“Sir?” Dom asks, waiting for my order.
“Alex, this is Dominik. He will take you home.”
“Of course. Ms. Young, follow me, please.”
He hands her the purse she obviously forgot at the poker table and I roll my eyes at his over-the-top gentlemanliness. He’s the best right-hand man I could ask for, but this is a provocation. I watch Alex leave my office with a saunter in her hips, not bothering to look back. I shake my head as my hand wraps around the lace in my pocket.
Who the hell is this girl? And why can’t I stop thinking about her?
CHAPTER 11
Alex
I’m running out of addresses, so I give the driver the same one I did the first night. He’s the guy who was next to Leon while he was choking the asshole who tried to force me back to the poker table. The man is an absolute giant, making even the spacious interior of this G-Wagon feel suffocating. He’s also bald, with sharp facial features, which doesn’t help lower his intimidation factor. But Leon trusts him, and so far, I have no reason not to trusthim.
Fuck, how could I be so stupid? Forgetting my purse at the poker table when it’s the only thing I have to protect myself? Having sex without a condom? Leon’s obviously a gentleman, what with the way he handled tonight’s situation, but he’s still a man and they aren’t to be trusted.
The driver sneaks a suspicious peek at me a few times as I toy with my purse, trying to calm my nerves. He pulls up at the address I gave him, and I rush to open the door.
“You forgot something.” His voice is low, almost dangerous, doing nothing to calm my racing heart.
Turning my head back toward him, I face a stack of bills in his held-out hand. “What?” Is this some kind of sick joke? Does Leon think I’m a prostitute?
“Your winnings.”
“Oh.” The money was the last thing on my mind. I swallow the lump in my throat and reach out my hand, mindful to take the bills without touching him. “Thank you,” I whisper, closing the door behind me.
I inhale deeply to collect myself, but he’s still there, not pulling away. My skin prickles with goosebumps as I make my way to the first entrance, grateful that it’s a building with a doorman. I walk inside with a wide smile, fluttering my eyelashes the best I can.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” an older man says from behind his desk.
“I’m here to see my boyfriend. I got a little tipsy at the bar, and he told me to come sleep it off.” I attempt my best rendition of a hiccup and follow that up with a giggle.
“And your boyfriend is?” By the way his thick eyebrows furrow, I’d say he doesn’t believe me, but that’s ok. I just need to stall this for a little longer.
“Dean. Dean Winchester.” Fuck. I need to upgrade my fake boyfriend list, as well as my fake address list.
The doorman’s eyes narrow at me, but still, he checks his list, obviously unfamiliar with my favorite show. Thank God for small miracles. “There’s no Dean Winchester here.”
My face turns into a pout. “How can that be? He told me 282.”
The man’s features relax. “Oh, that must be the problem. 282 is across the road; this is 285.”
“Oh. My. God. How silly am I? He’ll definitely give me shit for this.” I roll my eyes playfully. “Anyway, thanks for your help. Have a good night.”
“You too.” I shoot him a wave and make my way outside.
The G-Wagon is gone. A relieved breath whooshes out of me. This is so fucking dangerous. I debate calling a rideshare, but I’m just seven blocks away from the apartment. Besides, the gun in my purse should mean I’m safe.
Even though it’s the middle of the night, the walk relaxes me. My legs work up a steady rhythm, walking fast enough to keep me warm. The chill air is simply a caress on my bare shoulders. I make it home in record time, my heartbeat finally settling as I lock the door to the apartment. Still, a thick fog of grief covers me at the sight of it.
God, I wish Sophie were here. I miss forcing her to eat or go outside, and check up on her like a mom. I miss her pretending she’s annoyed by it, but actually loving it. I miss having her to care about so I can focus less on my own issues. Slipping my shoes off, I sit on the couch and wrap my arms around my knees. Wherever she is, I just hope she’s okay.
I blink away the tears but just barely, wondering what my old friends are doing. It’s been years since I left my previous life, but I still wish I could go back and have brunch with them again. Or have a game night that ends in a sleepover where someone inevitably pees their pajamas from laughing. But reaching out to the people you once knew is not something you do when you’re on the run. Even being here is risky enough.
I grab a clean towel on the way to the bathroom and pull the dress over my head, not bothering to unzip it. The sticky mess between my legs reminds me of the fact that Leon and I had unprotected sex. The hot water pouring down my body eases the chill that arises with the thought. I haven’t had unprotected sex sincehim.
The IUD will take care of any pregnancy risks, and I believe Leon’s clean, but I never planned to have unprotected sex again. It’s vulnerable, and intimate, and both of those things aren’t something I’m supposed to be feeling. As water and soap wash away the remnants of my mistake, a pang of regret forms in my belly. I enjoyed feeling him on my skin.
