Page 42 of Not Mine To Love

I guessed I wasn’t so convincing as the door slammed in my face.

But I wasn’t going to give up.

I began to pound on it. “Come on, let me in,” I muttered to myself.

He answered the door again. “Wow, you’re persistent.”

“Yeah, I am…” I tried to give him my saddest look. “Come on, just hear me out.”

He looked like he wanted to do anything but that, but his face softened. I won… at least this battle.

“You have two minutes.”

He walked away leaving his door open, and I followed him inside glad that he would give me a chance to explain. Not that I had anything to explain. I lied to him, followed him, and betrayed his trust all for a few thousand dollars. Well, ten thousand dollars, but that was beside the point.

The real matter was that I felt bad about it. More than anything, I didn’t want Julius to see me as a bad person. I hated when anyone thought bad things about me.

I tried not to think of what to say next and instead looked around at his home. It was scarcely decorated. The only thing in it was just the bare minimum. There was a sofa, a little desk, and a dining room table. Definitely minimalist.

It was worse than my ex-husband’s place. Not that, that counted; he had had an interior decorator do everything.

“Sit. Make yourself comfortable, unless you want to go through all my stuff and take notes. Feel free.”

I ignored him and sat primly on the couch. At least, I tried to look prim. I probably just looked highly uncomfortable, which was fine. I felt highly uncomfortable.

“What’s your problem?”

I looked at him, startled. “My problem?”

He settled on the couch across from me and tossed his feet up on the coffee table that was covered with old magazines.

“Yeah, what kind of person follows another person around and impedes on their privacy for a living? Like some sort of paparazzi or something...”

“I’m sorry. I really I am.”

“Really? How sorry are you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He still looked angry, but there was something else in his eyes. Something else that made me slightly uncomfortable.

I knew the reason I was feeling uncomfortable was because, for some reason, it sounded like he was propositioning me. That couldn’t be. He was supposed to be getting married. Soon. And he was mad at me. I could still see anger there, simmering just below the surface. He managed his emotions well, but I knew he hated my guts. I suddenly lost my nerve and started mumbling.

“I don’t… I should leave. I just wanted to explain…”

“Then explain.”

There was an awkward pause as I pretended to not notice how attractive he was. His eyes peered into mine, and I looked away, focusing on his clothes. He had changed since I saw him at the strip club. He was wearing jeans that did little to conceal the bulge between his legs.

I wanted to go over and sit in his lap, maybe trace his lips with my tongue.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. What the hell was I thinking? I needed to keep my tongue to myself and keep my eyes off his crotch.

I stood up without preamble. “I gotta go.”

“So just like that? No explanation. Nothing?”

He didn’t move from his spot on the chair. He just sat there looking intimidating and gorgeous.

I lowered myself onto the couch. “I don’t really have an excuse. Your future mother-in-law found out that I take pictures for a local private investigator, so she contacted me to—"

“Follow me around and find some dirt on me?” he finished.