Ruthless Salvation

9

“Yeah, and I should get to studying. Text me, though, if you need me to pop in and watch your stuff while you take a break.”

“I will, thanks!” I pulled the canvas bag from my laundry basket and situated the strap over my shoulder. “Good luck studying.” I grinned at Micky’s grimace, letting myself into the hallway. Instead of heading for the stairs, however, I knocked on Luke’s door.

He answered, a grin lighting his face. “That was quick. You need something?” Luke was such a great guy. I’d had plenty of crappy neighbors, so I knew how lucky I was to live across from him. He was also more than a little handsome.

“Just a quick question. Mind if I come in?”

“Of course not, come on in.” He stepped aside to give me and my bag room. “What’s up?”

“I have a favor to ask, and it’s a big one, so I understand if you’re not up for it.”

“Now you’ve piqued my curiosity.” He studied me with amusement.

“How would you feel about coming to the club when I get off work tomorrow and walking back home with me?” I shot him an apologetic grimace, knowing an outing at four o’clock in the morning for someone who worked regular daytime hours was a big ask.

Luke’s good humor evaporated, his features taking on a sharper edge. “You feeling unsafe at night?”

“No, not exactly. It’s kind of hard to explain. My boss worries about me, and I want to show him that he doesn’t need to. It’s a little deceptive, but I think he’ll stop worrying if he thinks I have a boyfriend.” Was that insensitive of me? I suddenly realized I hadn’t taken Luke’s feelings into account. Pretending to be my boyfriend was an entirely different ask than walking me home.

Luke wasn’t merely a good guy with a pretty face. He was also smart. His gaze narrowed to skeptical slits. “What do you mean he worries about you?”

“I know it sounds sketchy, but it’s not.” I infused my stare with earnest sincerity—a trait I’d perfected in high school when I’d needed to fudge the truth to my parents. “He’s talking about cutting my hours back so I don’t have to walk home quite so late, but I need those hours. Some of the best

money gets spent in those early morning hours.” Why didn’t I tell Luke the truth?

Because he’d worry, and because sharing my problems with him made things complicated. When a person opens themselves up like that, they leave themselves vulnerable. I preferred to handle things on my own. My way.

If the situation changed, I could always come clean later when I truly needed help, but I wasn’t to that point yet.

He didn’t look totally convinced but didn’t push the matter. “Yeah, I’m happy to help. You know I’m here for you anytime.”

I beamed up at him. “Thanks, sugar.” I gave him a grateful hug. “’Kay, this thing’s getting heavy. I’ll shoot you a text later.”

“Happy sorting.”

I rolled my eyes playfully. “Don’t remind me.” Operation: Anti-stalker engaged.

I didn’t know what Torin had going on in that head of his, but I would not under any circumstances repeat my past mistakes. I would rather send a clear message from the beginning than risk entangling myself with another dangerous man.

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Past

LIFE WAS A PENDULUM. SOMETIMES IT SWUNG LOW AND SLOW WITH LITTLE consequence, and at other times, its momentum gathered so much force that the jarring swings were unavoidable.

In two short weeks, I swung from some of the darkest, most desperate days of my life to a new stratosphere of existence where every day was filled with more joy than I could comprehend. Maybe the despair itself had made my new circumstances shine so brilliantly. Daylight could be blinding when emerging from the dark. Maybe God knew I’d been through hell and felt I deserved a break. Or maybe Damyon was simply so incredible that euphoric happiness was an unavoidable consequence of being with him.

Whatever the explanation, I had the most incredible two weeks of my life and never wanted them to end.

I checked out my red satin dress in the gilded full-length hotel mirror. I’d always felt somewhat lanky at five foot seven, most of that height consisting of pasty-white legs—my fair complexion never tanned well—but in the dress Damyon had bought me for our night out, I felt like a movie star.

The fancy hotel room only encouraged the fantasy. After spending a week with him, Damyon had insisted on getting me out of the dingy hotel I’d booked and putting me up in a suite at what had to be the nicest hotel in Moscow. I had tried to refuse, but the man was more stubborn than a mule and richer than God.

Yeah, you heard me right.

Damyon was rich. Not wealthy. Not well-off. The man was filthy stinking rich and generous beyond my imagination. Between the shower of gifts and his unwavering devotion to making me happy, I felt like I was living a fairy tale.

But like all good things, our time together had an expiration. My departure loomed like a storm cloud building on the horizon. One more day, and I would be returning to Georgia. We’d only known each other such a short time, but the thought of suffering another loss so soon after my parents’ deaths made the prospect of leaving him feel even more crippling than it would have otherwise. And I wasn’t the only one struggling. A hurried pressure to stop the clock buzzed in the air around us a little louder each day. Damyon’s stares lingered longer, and he’d begun to fidget when the days grew dark.

He’d taken me out on several incredible dinner dates, but tonight felt different. The weight of my impending departure added a bittersweet poignancy like the approaching climax to a spectacular movie. You didn’t want it to end but couldn’t wait to see what happened next, thrill and longing inextricably bound together.

If my parents’ unexpected passing had taught me anything, it was to appreciate every moment I was given. Find the silver linings and never lose focus of what was most important to me. Life was too dang short for anything less.