I took a deep breath, the musty air clawing at my lungs, and forced myself to stand. I couldn’t spend all day moping about my old life, or I was sure Felix would send me to work at his club.
For now, cleaning the upstairs would have to wait. I would just start downstairs and just figure it out. I glanced around, searching for any hint of order amidst the mess. Cleaning supplies had to be here somewhere. They were probably tucked away in a bathroom cabinet or stacked in a laundry room.
I started with the bathroom, wincing as I stepped over a pile of moldy towels. The sink was crusted with grime, and the mirror had streaks so thick I could barely see my own reflection. Nothing looked remotely like cleaning supplies. Frustrated, I moved on to the laundry room, shoving aside piles of clothes and boxes. Finally, tucked behind a stack of detergent bottles and faded towels, I spotted a small cabinet. Inside, a rainbow of sprays, sponges, and rags promised some semblance of order. Unfortunately, every bottle was expired by years. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.
I paused at the edge of the couch, taking a deep breath to brace myself, then started with the living room. I wiped at every surface with a damp rag, smearing dust and grime into vaguelycleaner streaks. Books and papers were sorted into piles that made sense only to me, and random knickknacks were shoved into boxes with a resigned shrug. Every so often, I paused to cough from the dust or glare at a stubborn stain that refused to budge—but I kept going. Hours slipped past as the room slowly transformed from chaos into… slightly less chaos.
The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the floor, when the door burst open. Felix strolled in, like he hadn’t just left me in a near abandoned building for eighteen hours.
“That’s all?” he said, looking at the work I had gotten done.
Something inside me snapped. I hadn’t eaten in over a day, and the raw edge of hunger made every word he spat feel like fire on my skin. “All?” I barked, waving the rag toward the piles of dust and grime. “All? I’ve been scrubbing this place for hours! Do you even see what’s in front of you?” My voice shook, half with anger, half with exhaustion.
Felix leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, one brow arched. He didn’t answer immediately—just let his gaze drift over me, slow and deliberate, as if weighing something I couldn’t name. “Huh,” he finally murmured, tilting his head. “Not what I expected, but there’s a quality here I didn’t anticipate.” His smirk lingered, just enough to make my pulse spike, and I felt heat crawl up my neck.
I forced a shaky breath and gripped the rag like a lifeline. “If you don’t bring me food, I swear I’ll—”
“Or what?” he interrupted, stepping closer, voice low and smooth. “How do you plan to get away from me?” His gaze lingered on me, the words teasing but edged with something darker, something that made my pulse spike. I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes down to the floor, clutching the rag like it could anchor me, anything to escape the pull of his stare.
I swallowed hard and yanked my gaze away, shoving the rag into my hands like it could shield me from him. “Well, I guessI’ll just eat the expired canned soup. It’s only ten years past shelf life,” I muttered, bending over the coffee table and shoving books and papers into vaguely organized piles.
Felix stayed where he was, leaning against the doorway, watching. Not a word, just that quiet, unnerving attention that made my skin prickle. I focused on the floor, the couch cushions, the little piles of stuff I could pretend mattered more than him. But even as I scrubbed and sorted, I could feel his gaze tracing my movements, slow and deliberate, and the tight coil of heat in my chest refused to ease.
And then he left. I let out a shaky exhale of relief, the tension in my shoulders finally easing. It was quickly replaced by a loud gurgle from my stomach, reminding me that dinner was still a distant dream. I glanced at the kitchen with a sigh. Well, I guessed I was having the expired soup tonight.
I cleaned a bit longer, wondering when the hunger would finally win over the thought of eating ten-year-old chicken noodle soup. Each swipe of the rag felt heavier than the last, my arms aching, my stomach growling louder with every passing minute. I tried to ignore it, focusing on the piles of dust and clutter, but the gnawing in my gut was relentless. At some point, I knew I’d have to surrender—and face that canned horror waiting in the pantry.
The door opened again, and the most delicious scent hit me like a punch. It was warm, savory, and completely irresistible. I froze, caught between disbelief and relief, as the aroma wrapped around me like a promise of something real to eat.
Felix was back, holding a bag of something that smelled even better than I dared hope. His eyes flicked up at me for just a moment. “I can’t have you dying before you finish cleaning the place.”
My stomach growled so loudly I was sure he could hear it from across the room.
“Uh… thanks,” I managed, my voice tighter than I intended. Every instinct screamed to snatch the food and retreat, but the subtle heat radiating off him made even standing nearby feel charged. I clutched the rag like a lifeline and edged toward the table, forcing myself to focus on dinner instead of the tension coiling between us.
I finally set the bag on the table, hands shaking just slightly as I peeled back the wrapper of the burger. The steam curled up in a way that made my stomach growl again, and I let myself take a small, cautious bite. The warmth and flavor hit like a lifeline, and for a moment, I closed my eyes, savoring it.
Felix stayed quiet, leaning casually against the doorway, watching me. I could feel the weight of his gaze, deliberate and patient, and I forced myself to keep my eyes on the burger instead of him.
He waited until I had gotten halfway through the burger before saying, “I’m going to need the primary bedroom and bathroom to be spotless in two days.”
“Esch scuuze me?” I said mid-bite, nearly choking on my burger.
Two days was impossible. I had barely made any headway on one of the living rooms in a day, and the thought of trying to clean the rest of the house made my stomach twist in exhaustion.
“I don’t like repeating myself,” Felix said, his voice low, cutting through the quiet. I froze, the bite halfway to my mouth, and swallowed with a cough.
“There’s not enough daylight for that,” I said, wiping my hands on a napkin and glancing at the fading sun through the window. My voice sounded steadier than I felt, though inside I was frantically calculating how much I could get done before darkness swallowed the rooms.
“Fortunately for you, the electricity is getting turned on tomorrow. It looks like you can work some overtime,” Felix said, his tone casual, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it that made my stomach tighten.
“Why do you need it done in two days?” I asked.
Felix leaned a little closer, letting his gaze linger. “Because I’m moving in,” he said, his voice low and teasing, just on the edge of dangerous. “And I’d hate to sleep in a mess.” There was a heat behind his words that made my pulse skip, and I had to force myself to focus on something other than him, or the shiver crawling down my spine.
Felix stayed in the doorway, silent, letting me take in the words he’d dropped earlier.He’s moving in.The thought looped in my head, refusing to let go. My chest tightened, a mix of panic and disbelief twisting inside me.
I was about to share a space with one of the most dangerous men in New York City. And I had no idea how I was going to survive it.
