The doors opened, and I gripped her wrist and yanked her out of the elevator with me. “I don’t care what you think. You’re staying with me tonight, tomorrow, and all the nights after that. You’ll be in my bed, by my side, sleeping with me. No more getting yourself into trouble.”
“I don’t get myself into trouble, sleeping alone.”
I pushed her into my penthouse and locked the door behind us. She sprinted back to the door, but I grabbed her by the waist and carried her flailing body deeper into the apartment.
“You’re not leaving,” I said.
She continued to fight against me, but I held her tighter until she stopped.
Part of me thought she just liked to get on my nerves, liked to fight me.
“Are you going to be good if I let you down?”
She grumbled under her breath, and I hesitantly put her down. She glared at me for a few moments, then disappeared somewhere in the apartment. My lips curled into a smirk.
“You’re mine, Roxie,” I said to myself. “You’re never leaving me now.”
36
roxie
Someone knocked—more like banged—on the door, snapping me out of my deep sleep. I turned and pulled the blankets over my head, hoping the noise would suddenly disappear or that Cristian would get it. My eyes widened slightly at the thought. It sounded like Cristian and I were a thing.
And not like a hookup thing. Like a thing, thing.
I didn’t even want to officially label us because I didn’t even like him that much. Just a bit, but not that much to have a long-lasting relationship with him. I gave us a couple of weeks, tops. That. Was. It.
Someone banged on the door again, and I groaned. “Cristian.”
No response.
I glanced at the empty bed next to me. That man wouldn’t leave me alone last night, had forced me into bed with him all night long. Part of me had despised him for it; the other part of me had loved it.
Lips turning into a frown, I shimmied out of bed, pulled on one of his shirts from his dresser, and searched the house for him. I decided to ignore the front door until I found him. But every room in his penthouse was bare and empty.
“Baby!” a woman shouted from outside the door. “Open up!”
Baby?
Teeth clenched together, I stormed to the door and yanked it open. Dressed in a tight white top, a pink miniskirt, and a necklace that read Princess, Alessa stood there with a smirk on her face, as if she had known I’d be here.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“What are you doing here?” I asked her back, narrowing my eyes.
My fingers curled around the doorframe, and I had the urge to slam the door in her face. But I wanted to know why she was at Cristian’s door and calling him baby. She couldn’t fucking use that name with him. He was mine.
Mine.
“Cristian asked me to come over.”
“No, he didn’t.”
She let out a lifeless laugh and shook her head. “You’re clueless. If you knew anything about him, you wouldn’t even think about sleeping in the same bed as him. He’s fucked up, and you can’t handle him. You can barely hold a gun straight without cowering in fear. You weren’t made for a family like his.”
With rage rushing through me, I balled my hands into fists to keep my cool. My gun was in the other room. Though I was sure that Cristian had others around the penthouse, I didn’t know where the hell he would hide them. I didn’t want to turn my back toward her either. God only knew what she would do to me if I did.
“And you were made for this?” I asked, crossing my tattooed arms.