Page 40 of My Ruthless Neighbor

“You’re being paranoid.”

“I am not.”

She rolls her eyes. And now I am certain she is drunk. Because River is way too polite for her own good. She doesn’t roll her eyes or throw sass. “I’ve lived here for years. This place isn’t haunted.”

“Hmm. Maybe. Maybe not.” I am afraid of the dark and I have never in my life stayed in a gigantic apartment before. This place has four bedrooms. Four! Every night I sleep with a light on because of the ridiculous size of my room.

I never sleep with a foot out of my blanket in fear of the ghost under my bed grabbing it. I am not going to share this with her though. I am notthatdrunk.

This time, the knock is more urgent. Goldie barks and dashes in the direction of my bedroom. Maybe he is nervous.

I stride into my bedroom and grab a baseball bat as Goldie hides under the bed.

Kneeling by the bed, I bend my head to stare at him. “Stay here. Mommy will be back soon.” I hold my hand out and Goldie nuzzles his nose into it. With one last caress, I get up. And immediately regret it.

Fuck. Everything is spinning. Blinking a couple of times, I try to focus.

When I walk back to the living room, River is swaying. I hurry and grab her and direct her to the couch. Pushing her down gently, I tell her. “Sit tight. I’ll be back.”

With the bat in hand, I hit pause on the music and start toward the door.

When I am a foot away, the doorknob rattles. I jump, almost peeing my pants. My fingers shiver when I lift the baseball bat, ready to hit the ghost across the face.

When the door flies open, I yelp, dropping the bat on my fucking foot. The pain is sobering and I promptly bend and pick up the bat. My hands tremble from fear. My pulse is racing.

The sight of black leather shoes directly in front of me robs me of my senses. There’s a man in my apartment. Not a ghost. Or is it a ghost who likes to wear expensive shoes? Could be because I am staying in a luxurious residential building. Why did I assume the ghost of this building would be broke?

I shake my head. Why the fuck am I thinking about the ghost’s financial status when my life is in danger?

I look up and my mouth goes slack. With effort, I manage to push to my feet.

Standing in front of me, dressed in a three-piece black Armani suit is a tall man with a muscular physique.

He is wearing a lot of black. Even the shirt underneath the suit and the tie is black. His entire persona is dark and… mysterious. And just like his suit, his thick hair is black. This man is not a ghost. He is the devil himself.

When I meet his black eyes that are darker than night, I stumble back. There’s something about the ferocity of his gaze that seems awfully familiar. I shake my head a little to clear the fog in my brain.

His strong jaw, straight nose, and olive skin come together to build a picture of perfection. I have seen this face before. I think. But where?

He prowls further inside the living room with such confidence that it stuns me.

“Where’s my wife?” His deep voice resonates across the living room.

“Excuse me?”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “My wife. Where is she?”

A rustle behind me followed by a loud gasp makes him look over my shoulder. I watch as his entire body stills. His eyes darken. Sidestepping me, he strides forward.

Confused, I turn around and find him standing face-to-face with River.

Reaching up, he cups her cheek. “I’ve been looking for you, angel.” His voice is soft but it hardens when he speaks his next words, “How dare you run from me?”

River’s face is deathly white and her whole body trembles as she stares at him. Her husband.

“Da—”

He presses a finger against her lips. “Shh… We’ll talk about this later. Let’s get you home first.”

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