Enough money to own a house for myself.
I called an uber and walked up the stairs to the apartment, my heart heavy and tears on the tips of my lashes.
Damn it. Pull yourself together.
“Sophie?” I called out as I pushed the door open. She should be home at this time of night.
When Sophie didn’t respond, I locked the door, flicked on the lights and moved into the kitchen.
She could be asleep. We kept odd hours with our shifts at the hospital, but it would have been nice to have someone to talk to when I got home.
Maybe I should call Claire and ask how she was going, how they were doing.
No, that would be stupid. And probably unwelcome. I could only imagine what Grayson and the others had told her about me.
“Hello, Angel.”
I froze.
That voice was the centre of my nightmares.
There was a man in my dining room. He was not welcome within a hundred feet of me. He was not wanted, and least of all, was he permitted in my home.
I turned slowly, my eyes flicking towards the knife block in the kitchen.
I had to be careful not to make any sudden moves because Trevor, despite his massive size, was as fast as a whip.
“Trevor… what are you doing here?”
He’d changed in the months I hadn’t seen him.
His hair was long, bedraggled.
He looked like he hadn’t showered in weeks.
“I’ve come to see my girl. I don’t know why you keep avoiding me.”
I shivered, the cold dread of disgust curling in my belly.
I forced myself to stay calm, though my heart hammered my lungs like a blacksmith working an anvil.
“Avoiding you? Trevor, we broke up years ago. I’ve been getting on with my life.”
“Oh, really? And what life is that, Heaven?”
His tone made me shudder and brought back so many terrible memories. Of times he’d called me that. Times we’d had sex… times he’d hit me. They were all disgusting to me now.
Where was my phone? If I could get away from him, I could call the police. That wasn’t going to be easy inside our small apartment.
Damn it… How?
I went about unpacking my bag on the counter as casually as I could, considering my heart was pounding in my chest.
I pulled out my water bottle, my lunch box. I washed them both out in the kitchen sink, moving slowly and steadily.
I injected as much humour as possible into my tone. “You know what I’m like. Work, work, work.”
He laughed, and it was ugly and cruel. “Oh, I do know you, and you’re a little slut is what you are. Going for three men at once. Tut tut tut.” He tsked at me and I knew my time had come.