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“Building Maintenance." He holds up his free hand in a gesture of innocence. "I take it by the look of panic you’re,” he starts, reaching into an old, beat-up greasy tool bag and pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper. “Poppy Moore, homeowner of Penthouse 12B.” He reads from the sheet.
I exhale, a bit more at ease, knowing he isn’t here to rob the place. “Yes. Is something the matter?” I question.
My eyes narrow. He's got on long grey cargo pants that have seen better days and a navy collar shirt with the logo of our complex on it. His black baseball cap covers his forehead and most of his eyes.
“We tried to call you, but Maintenance has the right to enter when it is emergent.” He replies.
I glance at the wall as if I can see through it. Did I leave the oven on? What did I do?
I begin to close the distance. “What happened?” The panic starts pumping in my blood.
“You did nothing,” he reassures, reaching into his bag again. “Faulty sprinkler heads. You happened to be one of the few who had the recalled models. They have a faulty valve switch, causing it to flick on. Flooded the apartment on floor three.”
My concern grows as I inch closer. “Oh my God, that's awful. What should I do?” This is precisely what I wanted to avoid by getting a brand-new apartment. I'm not handy at all. I have a glue gun, possibly some super glue. Could that hold a leaky pipe until I call a professional?
“Nothing, I fixed it all. I had to shut off the water in your apartment to fix it, but it’s back on now, so run the facets for a few minutes before you drink it. It's all set.” He grabs a pen from his pocket. “Can I get an updated number for you? I hate barging in. I usually call a few times before I'm forced to enter. Your number wasn't on file, and we didn't want to risk the water turning on and flooding your place.”
“Sure,” I reply, giving him my number. “I just moved, so they probably haven't gotten my number on the files yet. Thanks for fixing it and saving me from the cleanup."
"It's my job. Better than a plumbing issue." He jokes.
I grimace.
"So, I don’t need to do anything? My apartment isn’t going to turn into a shower, right?”
He dips his chin. “No, ma'am, I’m all finished, so I'll be on my way. It's been a long day.”
I nod. “Well, thank you,” I say as he walks down the hall. I grab the door handle and check that he locked it before I unlock it.
I’m a little creeped out that he just let himself in, but that's not unusual when living in a building. I close the door and lock it, but then I stare at the lock. What's stopping him or anyone else from getting a copy of my key to enter?
“You’re going insane,” I state out loud. I’ve just been listening to horror stories Harper tells me.
That's what I tell myself as I check room to room, looking at the sprinkler heads and ensuring nothing is stolen. Then, I turn the knob and step into the shower, but end up running soaking wet with a towel wrapped around myself as I drag a chair in front of my door. This way, if someone opens it, it will knock it over, and at least I’ll hear.
What then, Poppy? You have no weapon except the wasp spray.
“Shit,” I mumble. Maybe I should do the wise thing and start learning how to defend myself and not just run away.
Chapter 37
Julian
"Are you listening to me?" my uncle snaps, his voice cutting through the tense air of my office.
No, I'm not, Uncle, but I do appreciate everything you are doing. Really, I do.
The dim lighting in my office casts long shadows, amplifying the moment's weight. As soon as I saw my uncle, I knew he blamed himself. Then he took it out on his team, which did deserve the chewing out. A package never should have gotten this close to me. It could have been deadly, and there Poppy was, opening it. All my mail is vetted before it reaches this level. At least, it has been in the past.
Poppy could have been hurt.
I focus on the faint scent of leather from the chairs, trying to calm my anger. My uncle's team failed, and I'm sure they will spend the rest of their careers in the basement, filing reports instead of writing them. The cold, sterile office seems to echo their unspoken fears.
Uncle Dan is pissed that I interrupted him so that I could say goodbye to Poppy. She was heading home and refused to let one of my guards take her. Of course, she doesn’t know they are guards. I didn’t want to scare her further.
Uncle Dan wanted to question her, but I wouldn’t allow it. I don’t want to stress Poppy out. I could already see the worry etching on her forehead, a stark contrast to the stoic masks in the room.
If I were a good man, I'd stay far away from her, especially after what my brother Theo is doing.
