Maybe it's the wine, but this feels like some kind of sign. After a few moments I tap my finger against the button, half hoping it is miraculously out of service. But I hear the electronic click as he engages the answer button, far above me in his flat.
“Jordan? Is everything all right?”
I don't even know what to say. I hang my head slightly and some part of me realizes that he can see me, even though I can't see him. What a strange, fitting coincidence. Everything old is new again.
“King,” I finally say when I find my voice, “let me up. I need you.”
I expect him to press the buzzer that disengages the deadbolt, but instead the door swings open and there he is, shirtless in just his pyjama bottoms, his arms out from his sides as though ready to fight. His eyes dart along the darkened street, looking for trouble.
“It's okay, I'm alone,” I tell him.
But he cups my elbow and pulls me inside, protectively shielding me with his body. Despite everything, I'm grateful for this. I realize I am thankful for his unwavering commitment to protecting me, even when he was being an absolute jackass about it.
He fixes me a brandy and I curl up in my favorite spot on the leather sofa, sipping it though I know I've really had enough to drink at this point. I tell him about Daniel, about a momentary blush of hope crushed to bits again by the past that just won't stay in the past.
He nods, listening to me go on and on and saying nothing. But when I finally finish, when I'm spent explaining and have no more words, he frowns sympathetically.
“Jordan, there is something else you should know,” he begins.
I tip my head back dramatically, letting it fall on the sofa. “Oh my God, what else can there be?” I ask the ceiling.
“The website is still active.”
I pick my head up and stare at him, not understanding. “Kelsey's website? That's impossible!”
He gnaws the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. I can see how sorry he is to deliver this news to me. I'm not sure if I should be grateful that he is still keeping tabs on me or if I should throw my drink in my in his face and storm back out. After all, isn’t it people just like him who made this nightmare possible?
But instead, I take several deep breaths. Somehow, this new turn of events doesn't floor me the way it would have six months ago, even two weeks ago.
“Okay,” I nod. “What are we going to do?”
His eyebrows go up, but he doesn't move toward me. He's being cautious, I can tell. He is afraid I'll run away.
“Okay, well, you have some options,” he says, dropping his voice to serious businessman levels. I bite my lips together to keep from smirking at the sense of fondness that wells up in me. I used to love this tone of voice, didn’t I?
“What kind of options?”
“I can have someone look into it for us… Find out who is running the site. See if you have a connection, or if there is any easy way to get it dismantled.”
“How do you do that?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I have people.”
“But it's the middle of the night, R,” I remind him.
He smiles, dropping his head onto his fist on the back of the sofa. His muscles are long and thick, their restful state belying the strength I know is there. I cannot let my gaze linger too long on his skin.
“It’s not the middle of the night in the States.”
“Yes,” I chuckle. “I guess I never get used to that, do I?”
It only takes him one phone call to get the details.
The site is still operational, with even more videos on it now. According to some third-party ranking site, it's more popular than ever. Which means I am more popular than ever. Which means…
“I can't even think about this anymore,” I whisper, defeated as we stare at the blue light of his laptop, scrolling through the data his investigator had sent over immediately. Traffic rankings, back links to the site, a whole network of people who been sharing images of me, even on Pinterest! Fucking Pinterest!
His arm loops around me, drawing me closer to him. I nuzzle against his neck, breathing deep the woodsy smell, letting its warmth seeped through my blood and maybe feeling just a little bit better.