Page 88 of By A Thread

“Mal, soup kitchens are free,” Gola sighed.

“What’s the matter, Malina? Couldn’t find any small children to kick on your way to work this morning?” Zara asked, rearranging the rest of her notes.

Malina made a hissing noise and primly returned to her chair.

I picked up the bag I’d dumped on the floor and started for the elevators. I didn’t really think Dominic would come looking for me. He was more of a summoner. But I also wasn’t willing to take that chance.

“What’s going on with you?” Gola asked, her long legs eating up the distance between us as I yanked the glass door to the elevators open. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” I said. I felt the tell-tale red flush creep up my neck. I was a shit liar. “I’m great.”

She looked unconvinced. “By ‘great’ you clearly mean ‘about to lose your damn mind.’”

I frantically stabbed the down button on the elevator. Three times. “Ha! You look so pretty today,” I said.

The stairwell door opened on the far end of the hallway, and the man who didn’t exist stepped out. His eyes went straight to me.

I turned my back and stabbed the button again.

“Ally, I say this with love,” Gola said. “You need a massage and a facial.”

I could feel his gaze on me. It felt like wildfire licking its way over my skin. I had to get out. Now.

The merciful god of high-rise elevators shined his divine love upon me, and the doors opened on a dignified ding. I stepped inside, hurling my body into the already crowded car. I couldn’t afford to wait for another one.

“I’ll call you later,” I promised Gola frantically as I jabbed the close button.

Stubbornly, the doors refused to close.

Dominic was closing in, stalking toward me with murder in his eyes and—was that a fucking vest? That son of a bitch!

I let go of the button, ready to take a stance against him, against the vest. Just then, the damn doors began to slide toward each other.

His blue eyes were icy and troubled. He looked the same as he had last night, except he wasn’t, you know, violently masturbating and rasping out my name.

Was it weird that the sexiest moment of my life hadn’t actually involved having sex?

I went weak in the knees with a desire so carnal I worried I might die on the spot.

“Can I help you with something, Mr. Russo?” Gola squeaked as he charged forward.

I glared at him, channeling all of my angst and maybe a little bit of the heat emanating from my below-the-waist region through the sliver of space between the doors until they closed, severing our connection.

Everyone else in the elevator was staring at me, but I ignored them. A bead of sweat worked its way down my back as I let out a long breath. It felt like a victory. Like I’d just escaped a hungry lion. This dumbass gazelle would live to gazelle another day. The triumphant feeling stuck with me until I crossed the lobby and ducked out into the miserable cold, gray world.

* * *

My assignments werea mixed bag of pickups, drop-offs, and location snooping for various departments.

Halfway through my list, I broke down and ducked into a coffee shop. It was warm and cozy inside. It was also full of people who reminded me of the old me. Designers and writers, huddled over laptops, setting their own schedules, kicking back with foamy lattes they could afford.

I ordered a tall black coffee and looked longingly at the pastries in the case. Then remembered the thirty-two dollars in the bank. Payday was tomorrow. I just had to hang in until then. I’d cut it too close. I was almost out of groceries. The gas bill was due. And I was as far behind as I could get on Dad’s bills. I was holding my breath until that direct deposit landed at 12:01 a.m. Then, after writing those checks, I was going to buy myself a shot of whiskey. A bottom shelf shot.

The music in my earbuds cut off as my text alert sounded.

I knew before even looking at the screen who it was.

Charming: You can’t run forever. We will have this conversation sooner or later.