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“Yeah, um. That’s mine.”
I lean down to stuff a few of them into my bag. “I was a little low on cash, and they’re quite tasty,” I say, trying to sound convincing.
“And full of sodium. Leave that garbage behind,” he frowns. “You can’t live on that.”
“But I–“
“Leave it, Miss Taylor.”
I look mournfully at the packets of perfectly good ramen before dumping them back into the carton. I try to sneak a few into my bag, but as Mr. Middleton gets up, he adds, “I saw that. Put them back.”
Ugh.
“Is there anything else you need?” he asks sincerely.
I shake my head, looking around.
“Come, then.”
I follow after him but when I’m about to lock the door, he says in a light tone, “Leave the key inside for your friend. You’re not coming back here.”
I think about Naomi for a moment, wondering how she’ll feel about me just picking up and leaving, but I also know that coming back here would be dangerous after what’s transpired tonight.
And while Hunter Middleton is far more deadly than Mickey ever could be, he’s provided me with a sense of safety that I’ve rarely felt before.
It’s not a hard decision.
“I can’t stay here,” I stammer, feeling overwhelmed as I take in my surroundings. This place is three times the size of my old apartment and gorgeous.
The apartment he brings me to, if one can call it that, has three bedrooms with king-sized beds covered in very expensive feeling bedding. The living room has a view of the whole city with windows that span the length of the floor to the ceiling. The kitchen is massive with gleaming marble tiles and equipped with appliances that belong on the back of some high-end catalog.
“Why not?”
Mr. Middleton trails in after me, looking somewhat amused by my reaction.
“Because I can’t afford this place, which you should well know, because you don’t pay me enough.”
For the first time ever, I see what I think is a genuinely offended look on his face.
“You seem to keep bringing up how much or how little I pay you. Ask around, Miss Taylor, but I pay all of my employees quite well. But if you think that I pay everybody less than the market rate, I’ll make sure to reevaluate the salary structure. I don’t remember you voicing a single complaint when you signed the contract.”
That’s because I didn’t read it.
It was difficult for me to insist on reading it from front to back, with him watching me like a hawk. Hell, I couldn’t concentrate.
“Besides,” he murmurs, his eyes meeting mine, “I won’t charge you. I own this building.”
My mind goes blank. “What?”
He points towards the ceiling. “I live on the penthouse floor.”
“Oh,” I mumble, taken aback. “So, I don’t have to pay rent?”
He smiles at me with that small smile of his, which makes it difficult to discern what’s going on in his head.
My first instinct is to reject the offer. No one gets anything for free, but this is Mr. Middleton, I say to myself. He’s different. For whatever reason, I think he genuinely gives a shit about my safety. Plus, it’s just temporary.
“Thank you,” I say awkwardly. “I mean, thanks for doing this for me.”
