If he were a very different type of man, Jay might have called it martyrdom, but Nicholas’s particular brand of destruction had always radiated outward, not inward.
Staring out the window, past her rocks and into the alleyway, Jay thought,I don’t know if I’m strong enough not to be consumed by him this time.
Her pocket buzzed, right on cue.Where’s my picture?he demanded.
Jay shook out her hair a little and snapped a blurry selfie.Creep.
I’m your creep, he responded easily.You look hot. Is that what you were wearing in the taxi?
A lick of shame went through her as she adjusted her old Adidas tank top, belatedly realizing that her bra straps were showing.Not that it makes any difference, but no. I had a sweatshirt on.
You still should have sent me his license.
No, Nicholas. What are you doing?She glanced at the clock.You’re up late.
Just signing some documents in bed. Is that your apartment? It looks small.
It’s one small CORNER of my apartment, yes.
Nicholas sent a picture of his master bedroom. She fought back an eyeroll when she saw that he’d purposefully included the sitting area and en suite bathroom. It looked like he’d been drinking alone. There was an open wine bottle on the low table and beside it, a dirty glass.
You live in a mansion. We are not the same. Now wash that glass and pick your pants up off the floor. You’re a grown man.
Funny, I thought I was a selfish boy.
Ugh. Jay set down her phone and went to the bathroom to wash the airport germs off her hands. Then she unzipped her suitcase and changed into a pair of comfy shorts, but she didn’t bother packing. She wouldn’t be here very long. While she was deleting messages off the answering machine she thought she might actually get rid of, her phone buzzed again.
How many square feet is your emotional support shack?
God, could he be any more annoying?It’s not about the size. Location is the most important thing here. I live in a very good spot in the Mission. Everything in the city is small.
That explains so much about your ex.
I don’t know what you expect me to say to that.
Tell Daddy how much you’re going to miss him tonight when you’re sleeping all alone.
Jay set the phone down. This time, her hand trembled. She brushed her teeth savagely, noticing with some moroseness that the mildew problem in the bathroom had returned in her absence.
There was another message waiting for her when she returned. She opened it half-heartedly, and then sucked in a sharp breath.
He’d sent her a shirtless picture of himself lying in bed. His dark hair was mussed by the pillow, which he’d propped up against the headboard to work. He had his free hand under his jaw, in a calculated pose of study, which was doing interesting things to the flexed muscles of his hirsute chest. The picture cut off just above his abdomen and the dusting of hair trailing down from his navel, but it wasn’t hard to imagine what was—or wasn’t—beneath the border of her phone screen.
If you beg me, said the accompanying text,I’ll send you the uncensored version.
I guess that’s why his pants were on the floor, she thought.
She often wondered if Nicholas only wanted her because he didn’t know how to be with anyone else. He’d confessed to her once that he thought it was hot that they lived under the same roof, and though he’d walked that back quickly enough after gauging her reaction, it had held the ring of truth to it. Proximity made her easy; it made her hisghost.
To her knowledge, he’d never had a real girlfriend. And despite his intensity, he never let people get close. Except for her. Then he was too close, all the time. Like a haunting.
God, the way helookedat her—
She might have called it adoration, if it weren’t for theundercurrent of a violence that ran through those glances like a livewire, shocking any remnants of sweetness into cringing submission.
She looked down, guiltily, at her screen, and saw that he was typing.
Quid pro quo, little bird. You can leave the necklace on.
