Page 18 of The Voicemail

“It feels like disappearing when I don’t know what the hell is going on. I need to know what kind of trouble I’m in,” I tell him honestly.

“That’s not a question I can answer right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t have enough information.”

“I think you’re lying to me,” I say harshly.

His eyes go cold.

“You know more than you’re telling me,” I try again. “The police knew you. You have guards, secure residences, and people who answer to you at two in the morning. I’m not stupid.”

“I know that, but⁠—”

“Then stop treating me like I am.”

“I’m not,” he answers tightly.

“You are,” I seethe.

He leans one hand against the counter and watches me carefully.

“The man from last night is connected to people who are dangerous. Dangerous enough that the police wouldn’t be able to help you anyway.”

My stomach twists. I thought I was just dealing with a stalker. This feels like something worse.

“What does that mean, exactly?” I ask, panic starting to creep in.

“I’m still confirming that.”

“Alex,” I say through clenched teeth.

“That’s all I can give you at the moment,” he answers firmly.

“Because you don’t know?” I press.

“Because you’re already scared.”

I grip the edge of the counter and breathe until the kitchen steadies around me.

“I’m not staying here indefinitely,” I tell him.

“I’m not asking you to.”

He’s on the other side of the island, and there’s still so much space between us, but for a second it doesn’t feel like enough. His eyes drop to my mouth, just once, so fast I almost convince myself I imagined it.

My pulse jumps. Absolutely not. This is not the time. Except he’s looking at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

I step back from the counter. “I’m going home as soon as my door is fixed.”

“You can go home when I know it’s safe.”

The anger comes up so fast it almost feels good. It’s a perfect distraction from the pull I don’t want to name.

“You are unbelievable!” I yell.

“I’ve been called worse.” He shrugs, unbothered, my words clearly not touching him.