Ruthless Salvation

23

Taking in a slow sweep of the room, I looked at my surroundings with fresh eyes. Could Torin have possibly been inside my apartment while I was sleeping? Nothing looked amiss. I took a slow sweep of my apartment, and that was when something caught my attention. I wasn’t sure I’d have noticed if I hadn’t been across the room. It was the sort of thing that was easier to see at a distance than up close.

Torin’s name was spelled out on my fridge. It wasn’t super obvious. The magnet letters weren’t close together, but they were all right side up. I knew they hadn’t been that way because I’d intentionally moved them before Micky’s last visit. I’d had no desire to explain to her why I had our boss’s name on my fridge.

This was no coincidence. He’d been here—in my personal space— while I’d been asleep and unprotected.

Yeah, but did he do anything truly bad?

If I could have slapped my inner optimist, I would have. Was I supposed to wait until he did do something unhinged before I cut ties? And had I totally forgotten the fact that he was my boss?

Come on, Stormy. You’re smarter than that.

New York was a big city. What if I got a new job but moved so he couldn’t find me? That way, I could keep my friends and still protect myself.

The idea had merit. After all, there was no reason to assume he’d try to track me down. A girl couldn’t end up with two psychotic stalkers at once, right? What were the chances?

I wasn’t interested in finding out.

The question was, did I relocate within Manhattan, or was it truly necessary to leave the state. My logical and emotional sides were at war over the answer.

I RODE my mental hamster wheel until I was dizzy and resorted to bingewatching reruns of The Big Bang Theory. The simplicity of the show was cathartic. By the time I had to show up at work, I’d summoned a cloak of cool resolve to keep myself safe by whatever means. End of story.

I was pleasant yet professional to Torin. I didn’t want to set him off before I’d had a chance to make my move, but I also wanted to ensure I didn’t send mixed signals.

Judging by the glares coming from his direction, he sensed the change in me and wasn’t thrilled about it. Halfway through the night, he tugged me into the supply closet and closed the door. He’d been so stealth in his actions that I never had a chance to protest.

“What’s going on?” I stared at him with wide eyes, unsure if I should be worried.

Tor set his hands on his hips and studied me. “What’s with the attitude?”

Something inside me snapped.

How dare he shoot accusations my way when he knew darn well what he’d been doing in his spare time? What gave men the right to think they could do whatever the heck they wanted without consequence?

I hadn’t planned to confront him, but I wanted answers. I wanted him to explain himself. If I was going to call him out, best to do it in a place full of witnesses.

My eyes narrowed into angry slits. “You want to ask questions? How about this one—were you in my apartment building this morning?” “Yes.” No hesitation.

Was he not at all embarrassed to be caught in the act? Did he not see how inappropriate his behavior was?

Determined to get to the bottom of his intentions, I pushed further. “Did you break into my place?”

“No, I used the key,” he offered evenly.

“Where did you get a key?”

“I copied the one in your purse.”

My lips parted, then smacked together before any real words emerged. “My purse is always locked up when I’m here. How could you have possibly gotten my key to copy it?”

The look he shot me was mildly insulting.

My temper pricked with resentment. “Why would you do that? What did you think you’d achieve?”

Torin inched forward, his face growing unreadable. “Who was the guy who walked you home?”

Luke? Was Torin jealous?

I gritted my teeth. “A friend.”

“Male friends don’t show up to walk a woman home at four o’clock in the morning unless they expect something in return.”

“Even if he did, it’s none of your business.” I pressed my finger into his chest, all sense of self-preservation smothered by righteous indignation.

Predatorial. That was the best word to describe the way he leaned in and towered over me. “The second I came inside this…” His hand firmly but gently cupped my s*x. “It became my business.”

The feel of his possessive touch heated me in places it shouldn’t have. The blood in my veins coursed like raging rivers. Thoughts spun out of control.

What about before? You were stalking me before I ever let you touch me.

The words were on the tip of my tongue, trapped like flies on sticky paper. Why didn’t I tell him that I knew what he’d been doing? Why didn’t I push for more answers?

Maybe you’re scared he’ll stop.

That was absurd. Totally and utterly ridiculous. Of course, I wanted him to stop.

Then say it. Tell him you know the truth.

Silence.

The internal argument had only lasted a second, and what followed was the most telling length of silence I’d ever experienced.

I knew it. So did Torin.

He brought his hand up and cupped the back of my neck, bringing our foreheads together. And hells bells, I could smell myself on him. Through my panties and leggings, my arousal had clung to his hand. Our faces were too close. If I could smell it, then he could, too.

My eyes clenched shut with frustration.

“I’m going to ask again, Stormy. What’s with the attitude?” This time, his words were a coaxing caress I could feel winding its way around my hardened heart.

“I need to set some boundaries,” I whispered, eyes still shut.

Torin was quiet for so long, I gave in and peered up at him. The intensity in his turquoise irises stole my breath.

“Boundaries make me think you don’t like what’s happening between us.” He brought his lips close to my ear, grazing his teeth over my lobe. “Makes me think you didn’t enjoy what we did.” He kissed my neck in languorous, unhurried reverence, his fist closing in my hair and angling my head for better access.