This is Axel. Axel throws out endearments to all the girls. I can’t be an idiot and fall for him every time he calls me “baby.” It’s pathetic.
Cocking his head, he assesses my face. He reaches for my bat like I’m an annoying child.
“No.”
His lips curl into a sneer and for a split second, I think I might have seen admiration in his eyes. But he stands and it’s hard for my eyes to follow. Jesus, the man is tall. A moment of panic infiltrates my brain. He can’t leave. He’s supposed to save me.
“Wait.” My voice completely betrays all my earlier bravado. I sound hysterical.
“Stand up, Antoinette,” he demands. Again, his voice makes it sound like he’s dealing with a task that is beneath him.
His eyes look around my disaster of an apartment. It’s filthy. Dust and dirt everywhere, most of the furniture gone except my beanbag chair and a small table since Heather took everything, even the vacuum cleaner, with her.
I leap up, nearly falling as I try to stand straight on my lumpy beanbag chair. Reaching for his arm, I try to steady myself.
“Sorry.” I let go and look him in the eyes. He nods, eyes narrowing, his full lips breaking into a grin as if he thinks… I don’t even know what he must think about me.
“Look, this is not what it seems. One of my roommates, the one who found this apartment, had the lease in her name. She bailed on me and my other roommate. And stole over two months of rent so that she could move in with her deadbeat boyfriend.” I blurt it out so fast that I’m forced to gulp in a breath. His eyes laser in on me.
“And then you fired me, so Ryan…” I swallow, trying to rid the scratchiness in my throat. “That’s my landlord. He demanded that I have all the money by the first and I thought I would, but you fired m—”
“Give me the bat.” He takes it and this time I do let go.
“I’ll take care of it.” For some reason, I get goose bumps. I cross my arms and he moves toward the door.
“Mitch—I mean Axel.”
He turns, his eyes are so… hard, almost terrifying. “Do you want me to take care of this, Antoinette?”
I stumble off the beanbag chair. This man supposedly kills people. I didn’t think this through hours ago. I was so angry and I wanted help, but now that I’m faced with this question, do I?
He waits as my mind scrambles to catch up with what is happening.
“Yes,” I croak. “Yes. I want you to take care of it.”
His eyes rove over me, and I’m struck again by his sheer perfection. His physical beauty is disarming. The man is model perfect. I’m embarrassed that I’m getting aroused simply watching him, listening to him.
“Good girl. Now pack a bag. You’re coming with me. I’ll have some of my guys get the rest of your stuff tomorrow.” My eyes bolt up to his.
“What?” I move toward him then stop as I almost collide into his back when he turns.
“You said for me to take care of this and I will. Get your stuff, or don’t. I don’t care.”
“But this is my apartment. I’m not leaving. I mean, that’s why I had them call you so that you would make them lea—” I stop because that sounded bad, awful actually.
He arches a dark brow. His full lips, which should be on the cover of a magazine, curl into a smirk that I’m beginning to recognize.
I sink down into the beanbag chair and cover my face. If I leave, then I’m basically gone, forfeiting. And I have zero money. I can’t go to a hotel or get another place. And I’m not a whore. I need to pull myself together and communicate with him.
“Axel, I have no money for a new place. If I leave, I have nowhere to go.” My voice cracks as I keep my face hidden in my hands.
“Get your stuff.” It’s all he says and I hear the door open and close, followed by silence. I freeze, waiting to hear yelling, maybe even gunshots, but nothing.
My hands drop with a small thud on the fake leather of the beanbag chair. I did this. He asked me if I wanted him to take care of it and I said yes… Holy shit.
Running to my bedroom, I grab my dance bag and start stuffing clothes into it. Then I bang open the door to Bella’s room, which looks perfect since no one goes in here. A moment of anger comes over me. Bella was supposed to be my best friend, and yet where is she? Oh yeah, she’s living in seven-star hotels and dancing with P!nk. God, she hasn’t even called to check on me.