Page 12 of The Price of Forever

My escape hatch was opening. I could see through to the other side. “So what if we just plan on you finishing this assessment? You can give me the recommendations. I’ll take them into consideration, make improvements where necessary…and…” I shrugged. “And then we go our separate ways. That’s it. You get paid by my brothers, I’ll be slightly wiser, and everyone’s happy.”

He tipped his head to one side and shrugged. “That could work.”

“Great.” I popped on a bright smile. “Now, does the stalker committee approve me getting ready for work? I have a lot I need to get done before I leave for my shift.”

“Approved.”

“Will you be accompanying me there as well?”

“Of course.” His duh tone grated on me. “Go get ready. I’ll be waiting out here and we can leave together.”

“Oh.” My smile dropped. “You’re staying?”

“You have an unsecured building and countless unknown predators within a half-mile radius.” He flashed a humorless smile. “I’m staying.”

I narrowed my eyes at him again but had no retort. Because he’s right…again. Fuck. It bothered me that my brothers had a point. But I might as well bilk them for some free security services while I could. And then in a couple days, Seven would be gone.

And everything would return to normal.

“I guess make yourself at home,” I called over my shoulder as I walked into my bedroom. “If you can even relax with so many predators swirling around.”

Seven said nothing, or if he did, I didn’t hear it before I shut the bedroom door. Working at the club required a certain level of preparation—both physical and mental. I was an introvert by nature, so I needed to transition myself for several hours before stepping into that interaction-driven den. My shifts at the coffee shop usually accomplished this, thanks to all the customers. But if I wasn’t working at the shop beforehand, then I needed to get myself ready the only way I knew how: loud-ass, thumping electronic music.

“Hope you like my music,” I muttered as I cranked the volume on my Bluetooth speaker. Once the rhythmic thumping filled the room, I rolled my shoulders back and reached for my phone. I had one important piece of business before I got to work on my hair.

Asking my super, Michelle, WTF.

JORDAN: Why did you let this random guy into my apartment today? He’s not my boyfriend and he scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that ever again!

MICHELLE: Shit, girl, I’m sorry. He looked like someone you’d date! I thought I’d seen him with you before. My bad.

I frowned at my phone before tossing it aside. An honest mistake—that could have ended very differently if Seven were anybody else. One that I could take the building owner to court over. And I hated the other important piece of what Michelle had said: he did look like somebody I’d date. Which was potentially the most unsettling aspect of all.

Just a couple more days. I turned my blow dryer on high and brushed through my dark blonde tresses. I could last a little longer with this unexpected stalker companion, then take his recommendations and run.

And then life would continue as normal. I wasn’t about to let some prime number manhunk and barely-there brothers disrupt my hard-won stability.

In just a couple more days, Seven and the Fairchilds would be out of my life forever.

CHAPTER FOUR

SEVEN

The electronica, bass-thumping remix of “Hey Mickey” threaded through me as I wound deeper into the black carpeted paradise known as Gemstones. I’d already read up on the establishment—one of the classier affairs in SoHo, with plenty of so-called champagne rooms, VIP lounges, and some of the most gorgeous dancers the city had to offer.

I followed the most gorgeous one of all deeper into the sultry labyrinth. Jordan looked over her shoulder at me, eyes twinkling. “Remember, you’re my friend.”

She smiled over at a bartender, who shouted out “Hey, Sapph!” as she strutted past. A half-dressed dancer slunk by, squeezing Jordan’s shoulder.

“Right. Your friend. Who’s Sapph?”

“Sapphire. That’s me. Stage name.”

Which explained why as soon as we’d stepped into the building, something came over her. Like she was playing a part in the show. She still wore simple leggings and the black leather jacket, but she moved with the importance of someone who knew she was about to get up on that center stage shortly and command the entire fucking room.

And I didn’t want to admit how excited I was to witness it.

I looked around the spacious warehouse illuminated by sensual purple and blue lights from above. It sure didn’t feel like four thirty on a Sunday in here. Scantily clad women wandered the club—some wearing body suits, others in skintight dresses, and some in mere thongs and bras. Every last woman was toned, busty, and beautiful.

---