Lucas loomed behind his wife, his hand pressed to the small of her back. A sweet touch, sure, but also a possessive brand. Grace understood that. When she went out with Tommy, he tended to place his hand in the same spot on her back.
“We were just on our way up,” Tessa said warmly. “Elevator or stairs?”
Normally, Grace liked to take the stairs. Climbing up and down the five flights was as much exercise as she could dare to get these days, and the idea of being trapped inside of an elevator reminded her too much of her three-day stay in Tommy’s penthouse. But normally she wasn’t carrying all of the groceries she would need for the next week.
It was either struggle all the way up or spend less than a minute in an enclosed space with her neighbors.
“Elevator, if you don’t mind sharing.”
“Of course not.”
Lucas left Tessa’s side long enough to enter the code and select the up button. The door opened and he held it with his hand so that the two women could step inside. He followed them in, selecting the sixth floor before joining his wife again.
The trio separated when the elevator dinged and the steel doors opened: Grace and her bags veered to the right, while Tessa and Lucas headed for the apartment closest to the elevator.
Before she pulled her keys out of her pocket, Grace gave the door handle a quick tug. It was still locked tight. Good. Shifting her groceries to one arm, she stuck her key in the deadbolt lock and sighed when it turned easily.
The weight of the bags made her arms go numb. She threw open her front door, shimmying the heavy bags down as she marched into her apartment. Her mind was already on the dinner she was going to make and how relieved her aching, tired arms would be when she plopped the bags on top of her kitchen counter.
She never got that far.
Her bags slipped from her suddenly lax grip, landing with a muffled thud on the carpet. An apple spilled out of one and rolled a few feet away. Grace barely noticed.
She only had eyes for the elaborate bouquet perched on her dining table, waiting for her.
The arrangement was massive, the crystal clear vase nearly as wide as a dinner plate. Hundreds of flowers exploded out of the rimmed lip, all the same type though there were many different colors. Shades of pinks, whites, purples, and reds, nestled with the delicate baby’s breath.
Before Tommy, she wouldn’t have recognized the flat bloom. Now she knew they were viscaria.
Will you dance with me?
The first flower he brought her, the day they met for coffee. He already knew she was a dancer and thought he was being clever, bringing her a flower with such a meaning. Grace was touched that he picked up the detail from her profile.
It wasn’t long before she learned that he approached their date like a merger between two business partners. He knew everything there was to know about her before she ever connected with him on that website.
Panic set in and she worked hard to push it aside. This wasn’t the first time she’d returned home to find that her private space had been violated while she was gone. Until she could process the reality of it again, she allowed the disconnection from her feelings to sweep over her.
Grace had been living in Strawberry Village for almost two months. She knew he would come after her eventually—he always did. And, apart from the time he held her against her will, he never harmed her. Not physically, at least. Emotionally? She was in tatters, just hanging on.
How did he get in? How did he pick the lock? Know the code? How—
Focus. She had to focus.
All right. All right.
Edging closer to the table, she saw that the flowers weren’t left by themselves.
Tommy didn’t bother with a box because he probably knew that she might toss it without ever peeking inside. Instead, he stretched the diamond tennis bracelet out on the table. The rocks on the bracelet were so big, they sparkled and shone beneath her ceiling light. Once upon a time, she might’ve thought it was costume jewelry. She knew better now.
There was no card attached to the arrangement. No need. Only one person would send those to a retired ballerina—and only he would find a way to leave them inside her locked apartment. And the diamonds…
She’d lost track of how many he showered her with when they were dating. Tommy was convinced he could buy her love with flashy diamonds, as if she were that shallow. His wealth always made her uncomfortable. She tried to get over her hang-up because he seemed like such a good guy at first.
The sparkling gems were as much a calling card as the flowers. It had to be him. And if Tommy had used this gift to announce he had found her again, that begged another question.
Swallowing roughly, glancing around the room, she asked herself, Where’s the second package?
There was always a second package.