Page 11 of The Price of Forever

I opened my mouth, eager to retort with something that might absolve myself.

But I had nothing.

“Everything about this building is a red flag. I conned your super. There are no security checks, no cameras, not even a neighbor looking out for you,” Seven went on. He never moved from his effortlessly cool position, leaning against my window frame, as he picked apart my entire living situation. “It’s my job to identify these weaknesses and improve upon them. But there’s no improving on shoddy, rotting structures. You need to find a new place to live.”

I swallowed again, tightening the towel around my chest. I’d been so proud of moving in here. Did he know how hard it was to afford a place on your own in this fucking city? “It’s the only thing in my price range.”

“What about roommates?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to live with anyone.”

“What if it would keep you safe? Keep you alive?”

“I’m not living with anyone ever again,” I repeated forcefully. “I’ll just…I don’t know. Find a way to make more money, I guess.” I ground my teeth, pressing a palm to my forehead.

“Why don’t you want to live with anyone?”

“Would you want to live with someone, day in and day out?” I challenged him. “A girl needs her space. I don’t want people up in my business. What more reason do I need than that?” I didn’t want to tell him the truth, because I told no one the truth about what I’d lived through in the foster system. That every night before I went to sleep as a kid, I used to think to myself, Someday I’ll have my own place and nobody will be there to hurt me. That was true, living on my own. I didn’t plan on that changing.

Seven straightened with a curt nod. “That’s fine.”

“Well I’m glad you approve of my rationale,” I muttered. “Am I going to have to prove every last bit of my life to you or what?”

“Just the parts that affect whether or not you’ll make it through the day unscathed.”

“Well here’s a little news flash—sometimes it’s the ones you live with that do the most damage.” I headed back to the bathroom, grabbing the hair product I forgot I’d needed. When I returned, I said, “How long are you going to be around, anyway?”

“Depends on how dangerous your life really is.”

I sighed. “Well, do I have permission to get dressed? Or do you need to assess the risks inherent in that before I move forward?”

That cocky smirk returned. “Get dressed. We can talk more about the details when you’re done.”

He sauntered past me, leaving me feeling more like a stranger in my own bedroom than I liked. I shut the door behind him—locking it for good measure—and let my towel crumple to the floor. What the actual fuck? I’d learned something today—don’t provoke the probable ex-CIA agent to prove his worth. But damn, it was hard not to poke and prod this man. I wanted to learn more as much as I wanted him to disappear and never return.

I took my time getting dressed—sports bra and mesh shorts, my standard attire for getting ready for a shift at the club—and when I opened the door to continue the conversation, I already had my hair prepped for a blowout.

Seven sat on one of my wooden barstools at the small island in my kitchen, looking hulking and comically out of place. I came around to the other side of the island to face him.

“Can I get you an Earl Grey?”

A genuine smile ghosted his lips. “Not now, thanks.” After a beat, he added, “I didn’t bring spare clothes if you decide to spill it again.”

I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms. “So how long is this assessment supposed to last?”

“If you grant me full access, I can have the rest of your risks drawn up and detailed within another couple of days.” He shifted, the stool creaking beneath him. If he was worried it would break under his weight, he didn’t show it.

“And then what happens?”

“Once the assessment is complete, that’s when we talk recommendations.” He rested his elbows on the island, lacing his fingers together past big, bulky knuckles. “Based on what I’ve seen already, there’s a lot you need to improve on. I’ll likely be recommending a daily close protection officer. Among other things.”

“Like a new apartment I can’t afford.”

“That’s right.”

I sighed, drumming my fingers along the countertop. “So what happens once you have your recommendations? It’s not like I’m legally required to follow them, right?”

“It’s all up to you, of course.”

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