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The hell?
I hear her phone ringing inside the apartment.
“Payton!” I call out.
“Go away, Knox,” she replies.
“Were you fucking ignoring me?” I ask, shaking my head.
A lady across the hall opens her door and peers at me. I glare at her, and she goes back inside. I probably look intimidating in my black jeans, boots, blazer, and t-shirt. The only indication of my wealth is the Rolex on my wrist.
I assume.
“Payton! Were you ignoring me?” I growl into the door.
“Yes. Go away, Knox,” she cries.
I frown.
Did she see my car? I parked across the road, so she must have seen me. Damn it. I would be a terrible private investigator.
Still, I’m surprised she isn’t even willing to talk to me.
Should I be?
I lay my hand on the wooden doorframe. “Payton, let me in. We need to talk.”
“We definitely do not. Go home. Leave me alone and do not come back,” she calls through the door. I can hear the sadness in her voice and hate it.
“I’m not leaving,” I say firmly. “I am sorry I haven’t been in touch. I needed time to think things through.”
“Oh, well then... no. Fuck off,” she snaps.
God damn her.
“Payton.” I bang on the door as if that’s going to help. “Open the door.”
Silence.
“I’m not leaving,” I tell her, crossing my arms.
Silence.
Shit.
I pace the hall for five minutes, then ten, then knock a few more times, cursing and demanding she let me in.
“I am not going anywhere, Payton, so you open this fucking door.” I bang with my fist.
Jesus, she is stubborn.
After a few more minutes, I slide down the wall and wait.
She’ll open up.
