My head throbs. He actually believes he can stop me from getting my money from Matthew. What could he have on him? Ignoring Emily who’s calling my name, I push the elevator button.
“Jesus.” I turn to the right. Screw it, I’ll take the stairs. I need to get out of here… maybe out of New York.
“Julianna?” she calls out. “You’re making a huge mistake. I know things that you don’t. Go back inside and play nice.” Her voice follows me down the stairs. What the hell is happening? Has my dad sent his secretary to threaten me?
“Fuck off, Emily,” I yell up to her, trying not to trip on my heels as I continue to rush down the stairs. At last, I push open the outside door that dumps me into the concrete tomb of the parking garage.
“Fuck.” My heart is beating out of my chest. Gulping air, I try to catch my breath and look up to where the camera is located.
Calm, I need to stay calm. I am not a victim. I grab my purse and walk with purpose, reaching inside it to touch the gun Ryder gave me. I never go anywhere without it. At first because it was from him, but now I like the way it makes me feel.
Strong, powerful, even fierce, like him. I still abhor guns and violence, but I’d be a hypocrite if I lied and said it doesn’t make me feel safe. I push it aside and pull out my cell phone, then nod at the poor security guard in his little room, waiting for him to open the gate.
Slowly inhaling and exhaling, I watch him answer the phone, then nod. Great, this is it. I’m either going to be let out, or they are—
“Have a good day.” He peeks his head out as the gate glides open.
“Thank you.” I swallow and smile back, stepping into the frenzy of Manhattan. It’s like an explosion of noises and smells. Add in the masses of people, and you either love it or can’t wait to get out.
I used to love it. Living in close proximity to so many strangers always gave me an odd sense of security, but today I stop and look at my phone, not caring that I hear loud cursing as people walk past me. I text him. Not that I do this a lot—I’m rarely rewarded with a response, but this morning is different.
ME: I need you.
I start to walk, my feet already killing me, but that pain seems like child’s play rather than the way my heart burns at the mere thought of him.
Instantly my phone vibrates, and I stop breathing for a second.
RYDER: What’s wrong?
ME: Everything. Nothing. I need you.
I press send and instantly want to delete it, but it says Read so… great.
I sigh, glancing up at the gray sky. This is quite a day, and it’s not yet 10 AM I look across the street and spy a Dunkin’ and a Starbucks. Maybe I’ll go crazy and stuff myself full of sugar and caffeine.
I rush across the street and into Dunkin’. It’s been years, if ever, that I’ve been in a doughnut shop. It smells good and everyone seems happy, at least for New Yorkers.
“I can help you,” one of three people behind the counter calls out.
“A dozen chocolate-glazed cake doughnuts, and a large black coffee.”
The three people in front of me leave as I approach the register to pay just as my phone vibrates. My heart races.
“Oh shit,” I whisper, dropping my wallet, trying to look at my phone.
“Really?” The girl at the register shakes her head and looks behind me at the line that’s forming.
Gritting my teeth, I swipe my card, forcing myself to wait until I have my box of doughnuts and coffee before I look.
“You’re kidding?” Because it’s not Ryder; it’s one my brothers.
JORDAN: Stop acting like a child. Go back to Dad’s office and apologize. You’re staying married for the time being. You need to trust Dad.
“I wish I was,” the girl behind the counter rolls her eyes and says dryly. “Next.”
I look up from my phone. Her aggravated, all-around crappy vibe is the last straw, and I almost tell her so, but what’s the point? Ignoring Jordan’s text, I push on Gia’s number and listen to it ring. I glance around at the place and it’s definitely hopping. I’m about to hang up and call again when I hear, “Yeah?”
“Wake up. I need you. I’m completely freaking out.” I start toward the door. “My dad wants me to stay married to Matthew, who says he’s been cured of homosexuality and wants to start over. And I think I’m being followed by my family because I told my dad no.” I take a breath as the guy holding the door open for me arches a brow.