Chained Hands (Chained Hearts Duet 1)

She waves me off as the car slows down. “Through everything that happened, I’m glad I got you out of it.” She leans in for a cuddle before she gets out, ignoring the comment about her boyfriend, which I know she said she left him, but did she just say that because she was drunk? I like Ellie, but I can only take her in small doses. We are completely different, total opposites, and I think we will stay that way.

I wave as she walks into her building before the driver pulls out to continue the journey to my place. When I arrive, I take the elevator to my apartment and see Keir waiting at my door.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

How is he getting in?

His head is down, and he is leaning against the wall as he types on his phone, his legs crossed at the ankles as he types.

“What are you doing here?” I refuse to go any closer. I’ll open the door when he’s gone so he can’t invite himself in.

“I came to make sure you got home safe.”

“I’m safe. Now leave.” I wave in the direction of the elevator, but he doesn’t move away from my door.

“Maybe we can have a drink and talk.”

“Nope. Not in the mood. Some asshole pulled me from bed for a shit party, then I found out said asshole is going to be a father, yet he is waiting on the doorstep of another woman, hoping for … what?” I raise a brow at him. “Sex? Not going to happen, dude,” I seethe at him.

“She isn’t pregnant with my baby,” he says through a clenched jaw.

“Now you’re lying. Do you forget I was there when she said it?” I snap back at him.

“You were. But she was talking about the future, not now.”

“A future baby?” I ask, confused.

A light flicks on in the hallway and a door opens. I bite my lip. Shit, are we loud?

“Look, can we talk another night? I’m tired and it’s late. I want to go to sleep.”

“No, you need to listen. She isn’t pregnant.”

“But she will be?” I ask, gathering all the information I can.

“We can go inside to talk,” he offers.

“I want you to leave. I get you aren’t used to people not wanting your presence, but I don’t want you around me right now. And if you were any other man, you would accept that and move the fuck on.”

“I’m not just any man,” he points out.

“No, you aren’t. You’re an asshole. But, still, I need sleep. I went to your party as you so politely requested. Then I left. I’m tired and want to sleep. So leave already,” I say on a heavy sigh.

“If you agree to see me tomorrow. I don’t have to sleep.”

“I have to—”

“Don’t tell me you have to work. I know you don’t work tomorrow. Or is it today now?” He glances at his watch.

“It was today when you woke me up.”

“Today then.” He nods.

“I didn’t agree,” I snap.

Keir walks backward to the elevator, then pauses. “So, you want me to stay?” he asks.

“No, I want you to leave.”

“I’ll see you later, lollipop. Sleep well.”

I stand there as he steps into the elevator, and as soon as the doors close, I go into my apartment and pass out in my dress.

Knocking again.

My door is going to be worn out with all the damn knocking.

Rubbing my eyes, I wonder if it’s déjà vu.

Checking the time, it’s midday. Gosh, I didn’t move from where I passed out on the bed. I rush to the bathroom to brush my teeth, then walk to the door, knowing full well who is there.

“Who is it?”

“Do you have to ask?”

“Yes.”

“Open the door, lollipop.”

I sigh and pull it open.

Keir holds up two brown cups with lids and a bag of takeout. My stomach growls at the smell.

“You’re feeding me now?” I ask, reaching for the bag.

When I pull it open there’s an almond croissant inside. Yum. I take the first bite and instantly moan, then say, “I’m keeping both,” referring to the second pastry in the bag. He hands me a hot drink, and I smell the chocolate instantly. Hot chocolate.

“You haven’t changed your clothes?” His brows pinch as he stares at me.

“I told you I was tired. I passed out as soon as I got in the door.” He enters and follows me to the kitchen. I sit on one of the stools as I eat, his eyes locked on me when I don’t say a word.

“Maybe you should quit at least one of your jobs,” he suggests.

“Easy for someone to say who is born with money,” I tell him around another bite of the croissant. When he doesn’t speak, I raise my eyes to see him still watching me. I’ve never had someone watch me like he does. It’s intense, and as if he’s staring at pieces of me that I didn’t give him permission to see.