Corrupt (Devil's Night 1)

Reluctantly, I followed Michael, stepping into the elevator in my bare feet and watching him push twenty-one.

“You know what floor I live on?” I asked.

But he didn’t answer.

The elevator began ascending, and I stood there next to him, trying to remain still. I didn’t want to breathe too hard or fidget too much. I’d always been hyper-aware of Michael, and I was afraid he could tell. Maybe if I thought he saw me as anything other than trivial, I wouldn’t worry what he thought so much.

But as I dropped my arms and stared ahead, the slight flow of air coming through the vent making my hair dance across the skin of my chest and the tops of my breasts, I licked my lips, feeling the pull of him right there, only inches away. My chest rose and fell, heat cascading down my neck, and I felt my nipples tighten as the fire over my skin moved across my stomach and pooled between my thighs.

My sleep shorts felt too tight all of a sudden, and my stomach felt hollow, aching like I hadn’t eaten in days.

Jesus.

I reached up, brushing my hair behind my ear and feeling like he was looking at me.

But I wouldn’t dare a glance. After seeing the cover model he’d brought home for the night, all I could do was straighten my back, square my shoulders, and deal.

Like I had for years.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened, Michael stepping out first, clearly not the gentleman Mr. Patterson was. He walked directly for my apartment, and I followed, speaking to his back.

“When Mr. Patterson showed me around today, he told me that apartment was empty.” I glanced behind me at the door of the supposedly vacant apartment. “But I heard noises just a little while ago.”

He turned around, eyeing the door behind me. “What kinds of noises?”

Headboards banging the walls, cries, screams, pants, people going at it…

I shrugged, deciding to be vague. “Just noises.”

He exhaled a sigh through his nose, sounding annoyed. Walking around me, he made for the other apartment and jiggled the door handle, knocking several times when it didn’t work.

The door opened, and I widened my eyes in surprise, but then the same security guard from downstairs emerged.

“Nothing here, sir. I checked the stairwell, and there’s no sign of a disturbance.”

“Thank you,” Michael offered. “Make sure the apartment is locked, and head back downstairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

I watched the guard lock the front door and then wait at the elevator as Michael walked back over to me, keys out and his hazel eyes looking even more impatient.

He brushed past me and unlocked my front door.

“How did you know I locked myself out?” I followed him into the apartment.

“I didn’t.” He slid the keys into his pants pocket. “But I figured it was a safe bet. You didn’t have keys on you, and the rear apartment entrances leading to the stairwell always auto-lock. Remember that.”

I rolled my eyes, watching him charge through my apartment. Three years ago—hell, five days ago—I would’ve loved to have him in my space. Talking to me, watching out for me…

But that’s not what he was doing now. I was still as invisible to him as the air he breathed. And far less important.

One night. It still lived in my memory, vivid and wild, and I wished he’d remember it. But it had turned to shit, anyway, just like the way he treated me.

Crossing my arms over my chest and steeling myself, I stared off, just waiting for him to leave.

He checked the rooms, the rear entrance, and came back out, pushing on the glass doors to make sure they were secure.

“It’s not unusual for the staff to take breaks in one of the empty apartments,” he explained in a flat tone. “In any event, it’s quiet now.”