“Their job is to spy on me?”
“Their job is to keep you alive.”
“By invading my privacy? By watching every move I make?” The elevator feels too small, too close. His scent surrounds me, and I hate how it makes my stupid, traitorous body respond.
“Yes,” he answers simply. “That’s exactly how.”
The elevator opens on my floor. I stride down the hallway, my key shaking in my hand. As I approach my door, I notice another man stationed at the end of the corridor. This one does an extremely half-assed job of pretending to check his phone.
Vince says nothing, just waits while I unlock my door. God, his silences are as infuriating as the times he chooses to speak. I can’t decide which I’d prefer.
I step inside my tiny apartment. With him here, I’m seeing it through his eyes—the secondhand furn
