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My feet hurt so damnbad I wanted to cut them off and toss them into the dumpster. I trudged up the walk to my front door and let myself inside, the mail in my hands as I sorted through it and ultimately tossed the entire stack onto the kitchen counter. Fuck bills. I didn’t want to think about how depressing it was that I made so damn little I was struggling in the city.

“Meow!”

Reaching down, I scooped Penelope up into my arms. He rubbed against my face, whiskers and fur going all over. I swiped the mess off of my skin, spitting it out of my mouth and groaning.

“Yes, thank you, Penelope. Thank you.” I carried him into the living room, which was really just an extension of the kitchen, and froze. “What the fuck?”

When I left in the morning, my dirty apartment had been put on the list as something I needed to deal with when I returned. There were clothes strewn all over the floor, trash everywhere, and something that smelled suspicious somewhere in the kitchen, but I hadn’t been able to find it in the three minutes I had before snagging my coffee tumbler and bolting from the door. Now? It was pristine, like the day I’d moved in. But better.

The smell of bleach burned my nostrils as I walked through my apartment, and I crinkled my nose. Dropping Penelope off on the couch, I ducked my head into the bathroom and found the source of the offensive aroma. My bathroom was probably cleaner than it had ever been. I stormed into my bedroom next, anger and fear coursing down my spine in equal measure.

“What the fuck?”

There, on my pillow, laid neatly as if I was in a hotel room, was a note. I snatched it up and stared at the bold, straight lettering.Maybe next time.

My stomach lurched. I reached out, my hand grabbing for something to stabilize myself with. Instead, it flew into the dresser, knocking off a plethora of old memories to the floor below. I sucked in a deep breath as the truth dawned on me.

Enzo had been inside my home.

A crazy, murderous, blood-thirsty mobster had been in my goddamn home. The fear was quickly replaced as fire coursed through my veins. I snatched up my laptop and typed on it, logging into the program connected to the cameras I’d installed.

Clicking through a few times, I finally stopped when I saw him walking into my place. Penelope hopped up beside me, purring and brushing against me with his long, fluffy tail until I gathered him into my lap and glared at the screen. A familiar scent tugged at my brain, but I brushed it away as I watched him.

He’d been all through my apartment, cleaning, straightening, and moving stuff around like a damn psychopath! The camera feed cut in and out. It hadn’t even alerted me that he’d been inside! My grip on Penelope tightened, and I ground my teeth as I watched him pick up my cat and disappear into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he came out with Penelope wrapped in a towel, drying him off. I stabbed my finger onto the space bar and shoved that same finger against my eyelid.

I was going to murder Enzo Vitale. The bastard had been invisible for almost a week. In all that time, I’d glanced over my shoulder and worried that I would run into him. Every tall, dark-haired man that eclipsed my vision made me think it was him back to fuck with me, but it was never him. So, why the hell did he suddenly pop up now?

I looked Penelope over, my stomach still twisted into knots. He could have hurt him. Okay, Enzo hadn’t done anything to my cat, but he could have. And even if he didn’t, he had violated my space without a second thought. And for what? To clean?

Goddamn crazy person.

I kissed Penelope’s head and shoved a hand into my pocket, searching for my phone. As soon as I had it, I stabbed the contact name of my old friend and waited for her to pick up.

“Yo, Texas! How the hell are you?”

I grimaced. “No one calls me that but you,” I muttered.

“Yeah, I know. It still gets under your skin, doesn’t it?” She chuckled, and I heard the familiar sound of her fingers flying over the keys. “What’s up?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You still doing security?”

“You bet your sweet, plump ass,” she said. “Why?”

“I need someone to install a security system in my apartment. I’m renting, so I don’t need a bunch of wires and shit, and my landlord can’t know about it. Think you can do it?”

“Piece of cake,” she purred. “When do you need it by?”

“Tomorrow?”

Chelsea choked, and I imagined it was on one of those energy drinks she liked to chug. “Tomorrow? That’s short notice. You know it’ll cost you, right?”

“I thought we were friends?”

“My friends call me more often,” she said. “And do shit with me. This sounds more like a client needing a last-minute job. It’ll cost you,” she repeated.

“How much?”

“Fifteen hundred.”