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“I’ve managed with odd jobs at bars as a waitress, but as you can see by my current living conditions, the pay doesn’t allow me to be able to get much.” She pats the bag sitting on her lap. “Someone told me about Purgatory and mentioned that I could make a lot of money there if I was a virgin willing to sell my virginity to a high-level member. Seemed like an opportunity for a new start.”
“I see.”
Just listening to everything she’s been through only makes me feel more guilty for everything I have put her through since we laid eyes on her. I grip the steering wheel a little tighter. Words burn to leave my mouth, but nothing I want to say feels right. I’m not sure what to say, so I let the silence wrap around us for the duration of the ride.
The hotel is a welcomed sight when it finally appears. It’s strange how our dynamic has changed so quickly. One minute, I saw her as the enemy, yet she turned out to be a blast from our past. Though she’s not a stranger, the way that I can’t think of anything appropriate to say now makes it feel like she is.
She continues to sit in the car for a few moments, nibbling on her bottom lip as she stares out the window.
“Are you…expecting to teleport up to your room or something?” I ask after a while.
She blinks and then looks over at me before she shakes her head. “Guess I got lost in thought.” She unfastens her seatbelt. I’m surprised she didn’t try to jump out of the car before it stopped moving. Her blue eyes glance up at me. “Do you…mind walking me up to my room? Anything can happen between the door and actually getting to the hotel room.”
Her hand nervously clutches the handle of the bag as worry twinkles in her eyes, and I nod. We both get out and make our way inside. I almost chuckle as I watch the way she navigates through the hotel lobby. If her objective is to look as unsuspecting as possible, she’s doing a terrible job. Her eyes are wide, and she is looking all around as she clutches the bag so tight that it would make someone think she had something she shouldn’t. I put an arm around her shoulder, glad that she doesn’t pull away or cringe this time. In fact, she presses herself deeper against my side, and I embrace the warmth coming fromher. It’ll probably be a while before I have this kind of moment with her again.
We ride the elevator up to the floor her room is on, and things immediately feel off as soon as we step off. I keep my head on a swivel, trying to find something out of place. But it doesn’t take long to find the issue when we reach the door to her room.
“What the…” her sentence trails off as we both freeze.
The door is slightly ajar, which is strange on its own. There isn’t a cleaning cart anywhere in the hall, so I know for a fact that it’s not housekeeping. Not to mention, they wouldn’t come so late in the day to clean, and Cleo hasn’t checked out to prompt them to clean it.
“Hold on a second,” I say, holding a hand up to her.
“I don’t feel good about this,” she says. I don’t respond to her as I cautiously walk into the room, noticing that the deadbolt on the door is broken, so now the door won’t latch properly. Her things look as if they’ve been rummaged through, clothes and documents scattered over the sitting area and floor. Who the hell else knew she was here? I know Talon didn’t do this, as he has access to the room. Either way, I know she can’t stay here anymore.
I step back out into the hallway. “Let’s get all of your things from here,” I say. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay here.” I gesture to her bag. “Especially with that.”
“And go where?”
“We can talk about the details in the car, but right now, we need to get your things and get you somewhere else,” I say.
Her eyes widen at the urgency in my voice, and she follows me inside. I keep watch while she quickly stuffs her belongings back into her bag. After what she told me about her previous stalker, I can’t help but wonder if he’s found her. But why wouldhe come here? Why not her apartment? Even then, the hotel room isn’t even in her name, so how did he find her to begin with?
“I’m ready,” she says, breaking my train of thought.
We take the elevator to the ground floor and don’t stop moving until we’re back in my car. “So where are we going?” she asks when I pull away from the hotel.
“My place,” I answer. “At this point, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone. Whoever broke into your room won’t be stupid enough to break into my house.”
She nods slowly. “Yeah…yeah, okay. That’s a good idea.”
I drive us to our house, parking in the garage. She doesn’t seem so tense anymore, which is a promising sign that she may trust me a little bit more. She follows me into my house without a word, opting to continue standing by the door as I move toward the couch.
“You’re more than welcome to stand there all night if you want, but you can make yourself at home when you’re ready.” When she doesn’t move, I sigh deeply. “You’re fine here, Cleo.”
She hesitates, but then slowly closes the space between us and sits on the couch. Her hand still clutches the bag close to her, as if she’s expecting me to swoop in and steal it from under her nose. That awkward energy surrounds us once again as silence wraps around us. Things were so much easier when I wanted to torture her, but now everything is uncomfortable and odd.
I watch the way she observes the space around her, a million and one things passing over her pretty face. She swallows hard when she notices the pocketknife I’d left on the coffee table from earlier.
“I see your knife obsession carried on into adulthood,” she mentions. I can’t tell if it’s disdain or disappointment that’s hiding in her voice, but I’m not surprised considering howI’ve treated her the last few times I’ve been around her, before knowing who she is.
“Yeah,” I say. The awkward energy settles around us once more.
“I guess I’m not surprised. I figured that you’d either have a knife shrine somewhere in your house or become a serial killer.” She grins at me, which breaks the uncomfortable pit that tries to take root in my gut. “I hope it’s the former and not the latter.”
I chuckle in response. “Definitely the former.”
“Well? Where’s the shrine?” She scans the living room as if she’s expecting to see a shit ton of knives on a dedicated wall or something.
