Page 58

Pushing off the wall, I use my free hand to hold the door for Tara. I swear this woman is always running late.
“Thank you, Mr. Davis.” She looks at me expectantly. “You coming?”
I look over my shoulder to the coffee bar, then back to Tara, before taking a step back. “I’ll catch the next one. Thanks.”
By the time the elevator returns, Spencer approaches carrying a coffee. “Good morning, Mr. Davis.” He nods.
“Morning, Spencer.” I swing my hand, gesturing for him to go first, then stepping inside after him.
Spencer presses the button for the eighth floor, then leans with his back against the wall as the doors slide closed.
This is going better than I’d hoped.
Reaching over, I slam my hand against the Stop button before stepping into Spencer’s personal space.
His brows dip in confusion and I have to remind myself that we’re in a work setting and he’s an employee. And though he’s a stalker, this could still turn into an HR nightmare.
“You wanna tell me why you’ve been creeping outside Makayla’s apartment?” I ask, keeping my voice even and professional.
His face pales. “Uh… who… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No?” I quirk a brow. “So that’s not you on my camera footage staring up into Makayla’s bedroom window?”
“I’m sorry.” He lifts a hand in defense. “It only happened once.”
I tilt my head, calling bullshit.
He drags in a breath. “I like her—likedher. We dated in college and things were going pretty great until that mafia guy threatened to kill me if I didn’t break up with her.”
I snap my head back in surprise. “What guy?”
“That older guy. Tall, dark hair.”
A disbelieving laugh bursts from my chest. “Victor?”
“I guess.” He shrugs. “He didn’t tell me his name. He approached me at my graduation and told me to dump her or I wouldn’t live to see another day.”
That can’t be right. Makayla said she met Victor the day he came to her class. That would mean Victor had his eyes on Makayla long before they met.
My body shakes with laughter. I can’t help it because that’s basically what I did to Victor minus the death threat. “Why do you think he’s in the mob? Did he tell you that?”
“No, but come on. Who does that? Mafia guys. That’s who.” His eyes bug out. “I almost shit my pants.”
“Victor isn’t in the mafia,” I lie. Kind of. “He’s just an asshole who stole your girlfriend.”
Spencer takes a deep breath and relaxes against the wall. “That’s fucked.”
Poor kid.“It is,” I agree. “But you need to move on. Stop creeping around her apartment. You’re scaring her and pissing me off.”
“It won’t happen again,” he assures me and strangely enough, I believe him.
I press the button for the elevator to continue its ascent to the eighth floor, then lean against the opposite wall, eyeing him.
“You’re a good-looking kid, and there are plenty of beautiful women in this building alone, but Makayla is taken.”
“Message received.” The doors slide open, and Spencer scurries off. When the doors close behind him, I shake my head.
Victor Martin is a problem.