I Walked Away, Now He's Begging

Chapter 8 It's Him Again

Elena

The traffic in Los Angeles is absolutely insane. I'm sitting in the back of this Uber, watching cars crawl along the freeway, and I can't help but think that New York's gridlock has nothing on this. My phone buzzes with a call from Grace.

"Elena, I already miss you terribly," Grace's voice comes through clearly. "How's the flight? Are you there yet?"

"Just landed. Heading to the Beverly Hills apartment now." I glance out the window at the endless stream of brake lights ahead. "Though at this rate, I might get there sometime next week."

Grace laughs, but then her tone shifts dramatically. "Elena, something absolutely insane happened after you left. Adrian completely lost his mind. He stormed out of the boardroom in the middle of a meeting, called for his private helicopter, and just took off. I've never seen him like that—ever."

What could possibly make Adrian that angry? He's probably mad that I was getting in the way of him and Nina. But I'm already gone.

"I'm three thousand miles away. Whatever's bothering him, it can't be about me anymore."

"Maybe not. Anyway, focus on your new life. Forget about him."

"That's the plan," I say, ending the call.

Don't think about him anymore, Elena. This is your chance to start fresh.

An hour later, I'm finally standing in front of a sleek Beverly Hills apartment building, dragging my suitcase behind me. The palm trees lining the street are so perfectly manicured they look fake.

This place looks ridiculously expensive, which is weird because Alex specifically said he found me something affordable.

I take a deep breath at the building entrance. "Elena Sterling, you can do this. This is where you begin again."

The elevator ride to the fifteenth floor feels eternal. When I finally reach my door and slide the key in, I'm practically vibrating with anticipation. My own space. No Adrian, no Nina, no complications.

I push the door open and step inside, ready to embrace my new life.

Instead, I freeze.

There's a man sitting on my couch. Not just any man—the same devastatingly handsome stranger from the airport and the plane.

He's lounging there like he owns the place, completely at ease, with that same dangerous aura that made me nervous on the plane. His sharp features and those cold silver eyes make him look like someone you definitely shouldn't cross.

What the hell? Why is he here?

"Excuse me," I say, my confusion clear in my voice. "This is my apartment."

He doesn't even look up from whatever he's reading. His voice is as low and uninterested as I remember. "Alex didn't mention I'd be stopping by today? My assistant was supposed to handle the lease paperwork, but something came up."

Lease matters? Oh God.

"Wait... are you telling me you're the landlord?"

This time he does glance up, and those silver-gray eyes fix on me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. ""My assistant usually handles these things for me.""

That's not really an answer, but something in his tone tells me I'm not getting more details.

"You look like you have something on your mind," he says with that same emotionless tone, but there's something almost perceptive in how he's watching me.

The observation catches me off guard. I force myself to straighten up, trying to appear composed. "I'm fine. Just... tired from the flight."

I can feel heat creeping up my neck. The way he's looking at me, like he can see right through my carefully constructed composure, makes me want to escape to the kitchen.

"Let me get you some water," I say quickly. "You've been waiting here for a while."

Pull yourself together, Elena. This man is clearly dangerous, and you can sense it. Yes, he's incredibly good-looking, but there's something unsettling about him. You came here for peace and quiet, not to get involved with someone who gives off such intense vibes.

I rush to the open kitchen, hands shaking slightly as I fill two glasses. How is this my life? I escape to LA to get away from drama, and the first person I meet turns out to be my landlord? What are the odds?

I'm so lost in my thoughts, carefully balancing the two glasses of water, that I don't notice the moving boxes scattered around the floor until it's too late.

My foot catches on the corner of a cardboard box, and suddenly I'm flying forward, water glasses sailing through the air. Time slows down as I watch the water arc toward him in what feels like slow motion.

The glasses crash to the ground, shattering on impact, but that's not my biggest problem. My biggest problem is that I'm currently sprawled across the lap of the most intimidatingly attractive man I've ever met, my hands pressed flat against his chest.

His shirt is soaked through, clinging to what I now realize is an absolutely ridiculous set of abs. I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my palms, can smell that intoxicating combination of cedar and tobacco that clings to his skin.

Oh God. This is not happening.

His voice is completely flat when he speaks. "Second time today."

I want to die. I literally want to disappear into the floor. Twice in one day I've thrown myself at this man like some kind of disaster magnet.

I lift my head to apologize, and suddenly we're face to face, so close I can see the flecks of blue in his gray eyes. His lips are just inches from mine, and for a moment, the world stops spinning.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, but I don't move. I can't move. Something about the way he's looking at me—not angry, not annoyed, just... intense—has frozen me in place.

His hands are on my waist, steadying me, and I swear I can feel the heat of his skin through my thin blouse. My breath is coming too fast, and I'm pretty sure he can tell because his gaze drops to my lips for just a second before meeting my eyes again.

Get up, Elena. Get up right now before you do something stupid.

But before I can follow my own advice, the sound of a door slamming against the wall makes us both turn toward the entrance.

"What the hell is going on here?!"

Adrian stands in the doorway, his face twisted with fury.