Page 45 of A Twisted Arrangement

I crack my neck and pull out, heading to my place. It’s good I’ll have a few hours until I need to be back.

The work items I tick off during the short drive home make the time disappear. I’ve been neglecting everything for the sakeof being close to her, but my brothers will just have to deal with it. It’s only going to get worse.

I’d dismissed my staff early, so I’m not expecting my front door to be unlocked, and I pull my gun from its holster hidden beneath my clothes. Whoever is stupid enough to come into my house is going to regret it.

“Woah, easy there, killer. You nearly shot me.” Bash pushes my aim from his face and smiles like I didn’t almost take his head off.

I holster my weapon, heart still pounding in my ears, and debate the merit of still killing him. “What are you doing here?”

Xander appears from the living room. “We came to check in on you. You look like absolute shit.”

“Of course you’re both here,” I groan and rake my hand through my hair, knowing there’s nothing I can do about this.

“We heard you’re sleeping in the car.” Bash snickers as he takes a step back out of my reach.

Fucking Damon. Can’t mind his own business and had to bring these two into it.

“Screw off.”

“Hey, now. Don’t be like that. We’re just concerned for our big brother.” Xander puts on an innocent face, rocking back on the heels of his shoes.

“What do you actually want?”

Bash grins. “How could we miss a chance to see you like this?”

“Get out of my house.” I ignore them as I make my way up my curved staircase and to my room. All I want is to get the grime off me from sleeping in my car. I’m not old enough to feel so shitty.

The shower is hot against my skin as the heat settles into my muscles and eases the ache there. But there’s a gnawing feeling that just keeps growing in the pit of my stomach. Like I’m missing something that I can’t see. It feels so close, like if I justtry harder, I’ll be able to track it down and kill it. It feels like something’s coming after what’s mine, and no matter how many times I try to push that feeling down, it doesn’t stop resurfacing.

Scarlet’s ex showed up out of nowhere, and then there was an attempted break-in at her place. Her pure stubbornness has me on edge. I’m not an idiot—I know she’s strong and capable, but the idea of someone coming after her has my vision going red.

My phone beeps on the counter, and I groan, washing the remainder of the soap out of my hair. I still have another hour before I need to get back, which is just enough time to stop by Damon’s and chew him the fuck out.

Scarlet’s building is busy, the low hum of conversation filling the lobby. I stop by the entrance, the guard looking up at me, then quickly back at the screen.

“What can I do for you?” He doesn’t look up while he asks.

“I’m here to see Ms. Laurent.”

He clicks through the keys before shaking his head. “She didn’t put you on her list.”

I lean over the counter, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “It would be a mistake not to let me in.”

“I...I’m sorry...you’re not on the l...list,” he stutters out, clearly wondering if he gets paid enough for this.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Everette. You must excuse him. He’s new,” an impeccably dressed woman says from behind the desk. “Go right in.”

Her voice trickles to me as I make my way deeper into the space, heading toward the sound of plates clinging together. “Do you know who he is? Do you want to get us both fired?”

I should feel bad for my reputation, but why feel bad for things that are deserved?

Unsurprisingly, in a building like this, the cafeteria is a full restaurant. Deep green leather booths line the walls, while wood tables fill the center. It’s open, the high ceilings letting the light in from the lobby. It’s her laugh that catches my attention first, and the first hint of something curling in my stomach starts to form. Scarlet hasn’t laughed like that for me in a very long time. I locate her in one of the back booths, tucked in the corner. She’s sitting with a woman at her side and two men across from her. In any other setting, it would look like they’re on a date.

She doesn’t notice me as I approach, instead smiling at the guy in front of her. He’s moving food from his plate to hers, as if sharing like this is normal for them. It’s almost intimate.

It’s only when I’m within inches of them that Scarlet looks up, her face blanching before turning a brilliant red that’s befitting of her name.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses, and everyone at her table turns to look at me.

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