Page 32

32

PENNY

“Put some clothes on,” Collins snaps.

The spark of disapproval simmers in Collins’s features. It begins in his eyes and then works its way down to the tic of his jaw, followed by the rigidness of his stance. It’s like he’s playing a waiting game—trying to decide when to light the fuse and turn this into a full-blown lecture on my wardrobe.

Good girls wear modest clothes.

Good girls carry themselves with poise and respect.

Good girls always…avoid going into unmarked mansions that happen to be sex clubs…

Well, I’m tired of being a good girl. I’m tired of doing what everyone expects of me. And I’m tired of being told what to do by one overbearing, overprotective, overcritical bodyguard.

Yet, no matter how hard I try to hold my ground, a part of me still strives for approval from others and, right now, especially him.

“I don’t have any clothes, remember?” I say, my voice shaky.

My skin feels warm and sweat beads on my forehead. Maybe I’m dehydrated. Or perhaps the deflated feeling is just me coming down from the high I was having at the club.

Collins storms past me, down the hall, calling for me to follow him. Sheesh, he can be so moody. I make it into the guest room, the same place I stayed during the night of the storm, shocked to see him pull out a pair of pink pajamas from the closet. Does he just have women’s clothes lying around? I want to ask more, but his demeanor tells me he’s not in the right frame of mind for a discussion.

And my head is starting to hurt too much to analyze this further.

“Get dressed.”

I snatch the clothes from his extended hand, grumbling a few words as to his bossiness under my breath. I watch as he moves into the bathroom, flicks on the lights, and steps out holding a white tube.

Our eyes meet, and it’s like seeing each other again for the first time. The way his bottom lip twitches as he studies me just makes me retract under his scrutinization. It’s like he has something to say but is too disciplined to actually say it. I shift my weight from foot to foot.“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

I should expect Collins to ignore my question like he does, but it’s still annoying. My eyes search his, inviting him to say something— anything . Why does this man frustrate me so much, more than anyone who has ever frustrated me before?

He hits my panic button.

I have two older brothers who have no boundaries, and yet this one man standing before me is owning my attention. Owning my anger. And owning my ability to control when to hide within myself.

He is peeling back layers of vulnerability in me, making me want to punch his mute button until it shatters into a million pieces.

The silence is killing me.

“Here,” he says, passing me the tube.

I accept it, glancing down at his offering. I scrunch up my nose. “This isn’t toothpaste. This is face wash.”

“Wipe it off.”

“What?” I look between the tube and Collins.

“Your makeup.”

“What?”

“You don’t need it. At least not to the extent you thought was appropriate.”

It starts in my shoulders—the trembling—and then moves up to my lip that quivers. Tears fill up my eyes, and I suck in a breath to try to keep them at bay. He is crushing through so many boundaries that I’m starting to wonder if they ever existed in the first place.

Sensing my imminent meltdown, Collins wraps me into a hug, pulling me close to him and cradling the back of my head in his hands.

“Penny, what’s happening? Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying!” I shout, pulling back to no avail.

I feel stupid. Petty. Insignificant.

“Yes, you are.” He continues holding me, while I tremble in his arms.

“You think I’m”—each word is followed by a sniffle—“over-the-top?”

Collins pulls back to look at me. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Pen. It’s quite the opposite. You’re naturally pretty. I just wish you’d quit messing with what you’ve been blessed with.”

“You’re calling me a clown.”

“What? No. I didn’t say or mean that.”

“You implied it!”

He mutters a curse word under his breath, cocooning me more thoroughly in his warmth.

The press of his lips against my forehead is almost more intimate than the way we made out on the street outside the coffee shop.

It feels good to be wrapped up in Collins, but I feel stupid for having his disapproval affect me this much in the first place. What is wrong with me? I hate feeling like a ticking time bomb of emotions.

His hands move to my face, gently feeling the skin of my cheeks. His thumbs coast down, swirling against the dampness that I don’t want to acknowledge is there.

Guiding my chin to force my eyes to look at him, he sighs. “You are beautiful, Penny. I’m only saying that you don’t have to try so hard.”

Tears continue to run down my cheeks as I look away. “I do if I want anyone to actually see me.”

“I see you.”

“But you don’t like what you see—clearly.”

“Listen,” he says softly. “I suck at words. I’m”—he takes a step back and runs his hands over the back of his neck—“ah, just going to give you some privacy.”

As soon as I hear the sound of the door shutting, I fall to my knees onto the floor. How did everything go wrong tonight? The night started out so differently and ended in such a blazing disaster.

After who knows how long, I pick myself up off the floor and stumble into the bathroom. One glance into the mirror lets me see what the world sees of me. No wonder Collins handed me face wash.

I do look like a clown.

I squirt some into my hands, lathering them up underneath the warm water from the faucet. Massaging circles over my blush-stained cheeks, I move upward to the mascara that has run under my eyes. I scrub at my eyebrows that have glitter stuck in them, and then swipe over my lids.

I rinse and dry my skin, patting my eyes that still hold some of the caked-on makeup. I didn’t realize how thick I applied it. After another round of soap, I am satisfied that I got most of it off and look less like a raccoon.

Finishing up my routine, I strip and slide into the softest pair of cashmere pajamas. I’m thankful they are long-sleeved, as Collins likes his place to be on the cooler side.

I move back into the room, looking at the nightstand for my phone. Dammit. I keep forgetting it’s in the locker at Limit-X. I feel a bit lost without knowing what time it is.

The apartment is so quiet. I don’t even hear Collins moving about his space. What is he up to? Is he asleep already? I need to stay clear of him right now. He’s not good for my nerves. When we are around each other, I feel like my heart stops and then starts again—but at a completely new rhythm. He makes me uneasy.

I quietly walk down the hall and into the kitchen, where I can see the time displayed on the oven. Luke won’t be back for a couple more hours, and that’s assuming he isn’t going to crash elsewhere.

Pulling open the fridge, I take a look. My eyes scan over all of the contents. You can tell a lot about a person by what they store inside, and I’m getting a healthy dose of information right now.

It is immaculate. Organized.

Every fruit, every vegetable, and every protein has its perfect spot. I’ve never seen a fridge so…

Clean?

No, that’s not the right word. So…

Deliberately OCD?

I’m afraid to touch anything and jack up the order that Collins has obviously tried to achieve, and yet the bottles of juice lined up so eloquently with all the labels facing the same way has me feeling parched.

And he has tangerine juice…

Who is this man?

I pluck a bottle from the second shelf. Looking at the lineup, it feels so unbalanced. I have to fix this. Stretching my hand back, I push the bottles in back toward the front, bumping into the neighboring columns of pineapple and cranberry juice. I never expected anyone to like juice more than I do, so this is a fun revelation.

It takes me entirely too long to be satisfied enough to stop fussing over the arrangement and step away from the fridge. Leaning my butt against the countertop, I crack open the bottle, busting through the protective seal. The first sip tastes so good that I ignore the acidic jolts hitting my taste buds.

I keep drinking until the bottle is completely empty. I seal the cap and then toss it into the recycling bin.

Seeing a permanent marker in a cup on the counter, I go back into the fridge for a little fun.

When my work is done, I meander into the living room, taking stock of the little details I missed the last time I was here. The soft blanket draped over the couch is folded perfectly and without wrinkles. It looks too pristine for me to be convinced Collins actually uses it. The coffee table is polished and smudge-free. The plush area rug is aligned and situated exactly in the middle of the room.

I’m too much of a hot mess to ever fit into his space.

Despite everything having a firm place in Collins’s home, he sure knows how to pick out comfy furniture. I plop down onto the couch to rest. It has been a long day. I unfold the blanket, kick out my feet to stretch its length, and tuck my toes into the soft folds. Getting off my feet lets me know how badly they hurt. I just need a bit more time until Luke is home and I can sleep in my own bed—where my body belongs. At least out here I’ll be able to watch the clock better.

I melt into the cushions of the couch, loving how warm my cocoon has become. My eyelids feel like paperweights, pushing down and blocking out the city lights coming in through the blinds. I pry them open and stare at the wall.

Stay awake, Penny .

I drift again and allow my mind to become void of the emotion that once coursed through me. I allow the tension in my shoulders to relax. I just breathe. And drift. And breathe some more.

The fear of falling jolts me from my slumber, forcing me to sit upright. It takes me several seconds to realize I’m in Collins’s apartment. I push myself up off the couch and walk into the kitchen. Squinting, I look at the clock.

Luke should be home. If I wait too long he’ll be asleep and might not even hear the doorbell. I’d better go now.

I grab my shoes and slip them onto my feet, tying them just enough not to risk tripping over them.

Maybe if I’m quiet enough, I can get back to my place without Collins noticing. His job was basically over for the night as soon as he brought me to this building. I can take it from here.

Making my way to the front door, I take one look back to make sure I didn’t forget anything. Ah, the blanket is all balled up. Oh well, I’m sure his compulsiveness will push him toward giving it a fresh wash and folding it into perfection once again, if that’s how he wants to spend seventy-five minutes of his time. It’s best that I don’t try a task that I know I’ll just mess up anyway.

With shaky fingers, I unlock the deadbolt and pull open the door. I hear the vibrating countdown of the alarm system, instructing me to type in the pin code. Shit. I need to be fast.

I rush out the door, slam it shut, and dash down the hallway toward the elevators. I sigh in relief when the door opens as soon as I press the button. I enter, hit my floor’s number, and say a silent thank you for not running into anyone in my bra-less and panty-less state of being.

If I learned anything this evening, it’s to be more prepared and to think about a worst-case scenario. Forgetting my house keys and my phone was a major flaw in my plan. I still can’t believe I did that.

The ding of the elevator startles me, making me fidget. When the doors open, I walk quickly to my unit.

Please be home, Luke . Please .

I ring the doorbell and follow it with a series of three knocks. Why isn’t he answering? C’mon!

My mind races at the possible options. I can either go back to Collins’s and sleep there, or I can sleep on the floor here in the hallway. I don’t even know which one sounds better.

I give another pitiful knock, and I smack the doorbell. Leaning my forehead against the cold metal of the door, I close my eyes in defeat. Then I hear it—the sound of the knob.

I jump back as Luke pulls open the door, looking freshly showered and exhausted.

“Penny,” he says smoothly. He gives me the once-over, most definitely noticing I’m not wearing undergarments. “Is this an unannounced booty call? I love surprises.”

I push him back, laughing. “I live here. Remember?”

“So, we are friends with benefits. Either way, I very much approve.”

“Being friends is still up for debate,” I tease.

Luke grabs his heart. “Ouch.”

I shake my head at him as he shuts the door and hits the lock. “I don’t have my keys or phone. It’s been”—I expel the air from my lungs—“one of those nights.”

Luke scratches the back of his head. “Yeah, I hear you. Has your man made any more moves on you?”

I allow his words to penetrate my brain. “Which man?” I don’t have a man.

“You know,” he says, circling his hand into the air. “The guy with the one facial expression.” Then he demonstrates with a look of indifference. “He has a perpetual scowl on his face, like this.”

Oh my. He’s good at this.

“Collins?” I bark out into a laugh, making Luke nod. “Oh heavens, no. He is basically the opposite version of what I’m looking for.” As soon as the words leave my lips, I know I just told a lie. At least that’s how it feels. Have I been fooling myself all this time? Could someone like Collins want a girl like me?

Sure, we kissed… And ground against each other… But that could have been chalked up to heightened hormones from both of us.

I’m nothing like Daphne.

But Collins didn’t seem all that into her either considering he couldn’t even remember her name. And Daphne is pretty memorable.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“And how is that?”

“Like he’s the Little Mermaid and you are dry land.”

I laugh. “I guess that’s better than me being a flower.”

“Oh, you can be that too.”

“But then I’ll always be treated like someone who is delicate, when all I really want is to be ravished.”

Luke blocks his ears. “TMI. Sheesh, we just met.”

Smacking his arm, I giggle. “Stop it. I’m basically moonshine in the Abolition Era.”

“Now that sounds fun…”

“Until my brothers find out. They would lose their minds.”

Luke makes a face. “Sounds like they have anger issues.”

“That’s putting it mildly. You have no idea.”

“So how did you wind up trying to beat down the door to our place?”

“I forgot my key.”

I hope he doesn’t ask any detailed questions, because I have been sworn to secrecy about keeping Limit-X hidden from others.

I’m already mentally planning my next excursion there—if Yuri lets me back in—so I need to be extra careful to stick to the rules.

“Well, lucky for you, I just got out of the shower and was about to go to bed.” He wiggles his eyebrows like a cartoon character from the nineties. “And I own a queen.”

My eyes take stock of his wardrobe choice—or lack thereof. Wearing just a pair of black boxers, the man looks good. How am I only realizing this now?

“But you won’t own this queen,” I say, all smiles.

“Oh, that’s good. Offer still stands.”

“Thanks for letting me in,” I say meekly, ignoring his lazy proposition.

Luke gives me a once-over. “Glad I could help.”

His answer is serious and a bit sobering for my mood. Maybe we can be good roommates. So far he seems harmless. At the very least, I plan to laugh a lot while I’m here.

KNOCK . KNOCK . KNOCK .

Oh shit.

Luke’s eyes meet mine. I don’t know what to say, other than to shrug. He walks over to the door and peers out the peephole. Turning back to me, he snickers. “You order a tall, broody drink of water from GiveMeNow? Because I don’t think there’s refunds.”

I shake my head. Stomping toward the door, I round my shoulders. “I’ll handle this.”

“Alrighty. But if you need backup, I’ll be in my queen bed cozying up to my favorite porn.”

“Ew. Gross.”

“Everyone does it.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Well, everyone should do it,” he counters, walking backward away from the door. “And if they did, they would lower their standards on how they expect men to act in real life.”

“You are impossible.”

“Whatevs. Good night.”

“Good night, Luke.”

I take a deep breath and count to three. I can do this.

“Penny!” Collins’s loud voice calls out in the hallway. He’s going to wake up my poor neighbors or get security called on him.

“Go away. I’m sleeping!”

I hear his laughter. Then, I see the lock move and the door opening.

“What the hell, Collins,” I yell, covering a hand over my chest. “How did you get in?”

“I have a key,” he says, holding it up for me to see.

My eyes catch the keychain attached, and then I feel my pulse pick up. “For starters, that’s my key. Second, have you ever heard of boundaries?”

“I’ve heard of them. I just don’t respect them.”

“That much is obvious!”

“Keep your voice down. You’ll wake the neighbors.”

“No, you’ll wake them!”

His eyes have a brightness to them that I haven’t seen before. Is he enjoying this showdown? Oh, he better not be. I snatch the keys from his finger, and then notice my handbag in his other hand. When I go to reach for it, he pulls his hand back, keeping me from my belongings.

“Why did you leave?”

“What?”

“You snuck out, set off my security alarm, and didn’t say a word.”

“Oh. I just really wanted to sleep in my own bed. I figured my roommate was home to let me in, which he was. See?” I motion up and down my body with a hand, making Collins follow with his eyes. “I’m safe and sound.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Don’t like what? My body? My independence? Not getting your way? There’s probably a plethora of things that piss you off at the moment, so please enlighten me.”

“You walking alone in the hallways at night.”

“I live here, Collins. Better get used to it.”

“I don’t like it, Penny.”

Propping my hands on my waist, I pop out a hip.

It takes me glancing down one time to quickly cross my arms over my chest.

You can see the outlines of my nipples through this fabric. Eek!

His eyes darken, and my sudden modesty is now fueling his compulsion to stare.

“Quit treating me like a client, one you don’t even act like you like. It’s so cold.”

Collins’s eye twitches. “You are a client,” he points out matter-of-factly.

How could I forget?

“Well, how do I get out of an agreement that I never signed up for in the first place? Huh?”

“Penny…”

“Aren’t you tossing me to the brute in the parking lot anyway? Carl?”

“Chris.”

“Fine, Chris. If so, why are you here?”

His eyes turn to anger. “I’m still furious that you took it upon yourself to go to a place like”—he lowers his voice—“Limit-X. What were you thinking?”

“The same thing you were,” I mutter, my eyes cast downward, shamefully. Although I had no clue what I was getting into, other than to attend a party and meet new people.

After several agonizing seconds, I sigh. “Please don’t tell my brothers.” I mean, what would they think? I imagine they would tighten security on me, probably thinking I’ve gone wild. My teeth gnaw at my lip, as anxiety builds in my stomach. I feel ill, lightheaded, and weak. “I was trying to?—”

“Check off fuck goals from your to-do list?”

My eyes dart up to his. “What did you say?” I feel the pulse in my neck ticking with fervor, as if my blood is suddenly too thick. I can’t possibly be hearing him correctly.

“You heard me.”

I look down at my hand and then up to him. “You snooped through my bag? How dare you! What is wrong with you?”

“I could ask the same thing about you, Pen.” He takes a step forward, closing the distance. From my hands, he snatches my handbag, unzips it with ease, and removes the copied list I have folded into a square. Unraveling it, he stares at me. “You want to be tied up? Blindfolded? Make out with a stranger?” He glances down at the sheet, scanning over my inked words.

I reach out and grab at the paper, only for Collins to pivot and avoid my attempt. “Give it to me.” My words come out labored, as I struggle to take in enough oxygen.

Collins spares me from further humiliation by stopping there, and not reciting the goals of having sex and visiting a sex toy store. When I made my goal list, I never expected anyone to find it—especially not my bodyguard.

It was for just me.

How am I ever going to look this man in the eyes again without subconsciously thinking back to this very moment in time where he has invaded my privacy and crossed a very clear line?

“Are you happy?” I ask point-blank.

He tosses the handbag he’s still holding onto the counter in the kitchen along with my portable goal list. “Happy with what, Pen?”

“Happy humiliating me? Does it make you feel good? More of a man?”

“Fuck no,” he snarls, taken aback by my anger. How did he expect me to react? “I’m simply pointing out how reckless you’re being. Why can’t you see that?”

“You overstepped, and now you’re trying to make this look like it’s my fault. Isn’t that the definition of gaslighting?”

Turning my back, I walk deeper into my apartment, ignoring his presence behind me.

“Penny, just listen, please.”

Keeping my stride, I call out, “No, Collins. For a man who uses minimal words, the ones you do string together suck. Get your head out of your ass and come up with a better plan for us to coexist, because right now I’m so heavily pissed off you better be glad I’m not running to my brothers for an intervention away from you. Bye now.”