“I love you too, sis. Doug doesn’t count as a man, by the way. Be careful!” The line clicks, and I toss my phone across the counter.
Usually, Grovewood is never a scary place to be after dark. I’m never afraid of much, knowing I have some well-armed and very protective men right next door, should I need help. But tonight, something just feels off.
Maybe it’s the new energy radiating from the upstairs apartment.
After signing all the paperwork today, I left his keys with Helo and got back to work. I saw him for only a moment when he moved his fancy car somewhere other than the front of my shop, but nothing since then. Come to think of it, where did he park his car? I haven’t heard a peep from upstairs all day. I figured he might ask for help or maybe need directions working the stacked washer and dryer. I can spot a man who’s never done his own laundry before when I see one. But nothing, not a single word. Usually, I leave my contact information available for every tenant, just in case of emergencies.
This is the first time I’ve felt that decision was a mistake. I’d rather he use Helo as an intermediary or, better yet, I’d rather he die in a horrible fire than contact me directly.
Unfortunately, that would mean I would also lose my business. And that means far more to me than his life. I’m just finishing reloading the juice cooler to be ready for the morning when the light above the front door flickers out.
“What in the horror movie bullshit is going on?” I say, my voice echoing across the empty room. I grab the nearest object, moving slowly toward the front door.
How a plastic travel coffee tumbler is going to protect me from Michael Myers, I have no idea. But it’s all I’ve got going for me.
“Great, all I need now is a thunderstorm outside and some masked serial killer chasing my ass down the street. That would really be the cherry on top of this perfect fucking day.”
“Would it?” A dark voice sounds from a dark corner behind me, and I screech.
My body jumps two feet into the air, arms and legs flailing in every direction, the coffee tumbler flying towards the corner where the voice came from. Something inside meknowswho it is, but I can’t tell my fight-or-flight instincts I’m not about to be killed.
Who knows? Maybe I am.
“Gesù Cristo, sei una pazza stronza!” The voice shouts charging towards me.
I attempt to turn and run and bump straight into a table, knocking the air from my lungs. Way to fucking go, Vanessa.
Strong arms wrap around me from behind, preventing me from escaping. I kick and flail, but I’m lifted off the ground with ease.
“Let me go! I swear to God I’ll fucking kill you! Let. Me. GO!” I shriek, but a hand clamps over my mouth.
“Will you knock it off? I’m not going to hurt you! It’s me, Ms. Diaz.” I finally recognize the sound of Sebastian’s voice, and fury builds inside my chest.
“I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth, but I need you to compose yourself with some modicum of decorum, please? I don’t think either of us needs the police called here in the middle of the night over a woman screaming her fucking head off for no reason, hm?” His mouth is close enough to my face, I can feel the heat of his breath fanning across my cheek.
Being held like this, one arm banded across my waist, one hand tightly across my mouth, shouldn’t turn me on. But…
As soon as he moves his hand away from my lips, I bite into the fleshy part of his palm. He howls in pain as I jerk my head to the side, and he pulls his hand away.
“Estás loco!” he growls, and I shove him backwards. He holds his hand up to the light, and blood trickles down his wrist. I can’t help but smirk, knowing I’d never go down without a fight.
“I’m crazy?! You broke into my store in the middle of the night! How am I the crazy one, asshole?” I say, shocked he would dare try to blame this on me.
“And could you try to stick to English, please? My Spanish is a little rusty and I don’t even speak whatever the hell you were yelling at me before.”
“Italian,” he replies through gritted teeth. “I came down here because the water is not working upstairs. I know you assume me to be some kind of barbarian, but I do like to brush my teeth and wash my hands.”
The fight leaves my body at the venom in his tone. I’ve never been a bad landlord. Not like the kind of slumlords my parents always had to deal with in Miami. Knowing he’s been dealing with this problem all day and didn’t say anything makes me feel like shit. But I haven’t exactly made myself very approachable. My muscles slacken, and he lets me go.
Stepping out of his hold, I almost miss the warmth of his body. Almost.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was out. My brother didn’t…never mind. I’ll contact the plumber tomorrow and have it taken care of. Until then, you’re welcome to use the bathroom here in the shop. The spare key is usually tucked behind the downspout outside the back door.” I reply, my mind finally connecting the dots.
“Wait, how did you even get in here? I always keep the doors locked when I’m closing up.” I cut my gaze to his, and he just smirks.
“I have a great many skills, Ms. Diaz.” He shrugs, leaning against the table.
I can’t help but choke out a laugh. The audacity of this man kills me.
