Page 2 of Unbelonging
"Believe what you want." His eyes were the color of coal, the same as his hair. His heart was probably a couple shades darker. There was a time I'd thought differently. God, I'd been such an idiot.
His calm demeanor grated on me. "How long are you going to stand there?" I asked.
"As long as you're here," he said.
My tone was brittle. "And how long will that be, exactly?"
He glanced at his wrist. "Another half hour should do it."
"Do what?"
"Again," he said, "better if you don't know."
My stomach dropped. What was he saying? I forced down the panic. Stay calm, Chloe. Eyes up, jaw set. Never let them see your fear. It worked with your stepmom. It can work with this guy. I kept my tone neutral. "So you're saying you'll let me go in a half hour?"
At this, he glanced away. "Probably."
Shit.
Chapter 2
Full disclosure – this wasn't the first time Lawton saw me in my undergarments. But it was definitely going to be the last.
Okay, make that probably.
I can't help it. The guy is obviously insane. To do everything he's done, he'd have to be. But when I was around him, I guess I went a little crazy myself. Excluding my stepmom, who gives crazy a whole new meaning, it had been way too long since I'd had any crazy in my life.
To understand, I guess I should go back to the beginning.
I'd seen Lawton for the first time a few weeks earlier when I was walking the Parkers' Yorkie during my get-acquainted visit.
The Parkers own a massive house just down the street from Lawton's estate. They have a little Yorkshire terrier named Chucky and a whole bunch of house plants that need custom attention. Seriously.
The Parkers also like to travel, which is why I'm staying in a neighborhood that's literally thousands of times beyond my reach or comfort zone. But no one wants a pauper in their mansion, so I've learned to fake it a lot better than you'd think.
I'm the house sitter, dog-walker, plant-waterer, and truth be told, broke college graduate. When I answered the Parkers' ad, I approached it the only way I thought they'd hire me. I acted like I didn't need the money.
It helped that I had a ton of references, a spotless college transcript, and a fairly respectable wardrobe thanks to countless afternoons in thrift shops and consignment stores. Just about the only clothes I own firsthand are my undergarments, because even a poor girl from Hamtramck isn't going to wear panties that covered the hoo-ha of the richer, luckier girl before her.
Plus, I like lacy things. What's a girl to do?
The first time I saw Lawton Rastor, it was in the Parkers' neighborhood. Instantly, I knew he didn't belong there. He wasn't a surgeon, CEO, or remotely civilized.
I was on the sidewalk, just around the corner from the Parkers' two-story Tudor when I spotted him, leaning against the gate of the biggest mansion in the neighborhood. Ever wary, I slowed my pace. Chucky didn't. He was straining at his leash, trying to catch a bug or a squirrel or something. Chucky's kind of a spaz, so it's hard to be sure.
Tattooed and shirtless, the guy wore faded jeans and not much else. He was lounging, barefoot, against the thick iron fencing that surrounded the massive estate, a brick and stone monstrosity that covered at least three acres of prime Rochester Hills real estate.
If I weren't so stubborn, I'd have crossed the street to avoid him. But Iwasstubborn. And I'd learned the hard way that showing fear is the quickest way to bring on more of whatever it is that's scaring you.
So Chucky bounded forward, and I followed, like I wasn't all-too-aware of him. Like I'd miss some strange, shirtless guy hanging out where he shouldn't, and in weather that was already showing more than a hint of the upcoming winter's chill.
I passed the guy within an arm's reach. As I did, he stood, motionless, letting me stride past without moving so much as a muscle. I wanted to look. Who wouldn't? Instead, I kept my eyes straight ahead, acting like he utterly invisible. I swear I heard him chuckle, but the sound was so low, I couldn't be sure. I made a note to tell Mrs. Parker about him the moment I returned.
If there was one thing I learned from house-sitting for the wealthy, it was that they didn't like seeing someone there who didn't belong. I know it's practical, and probably smart too because it wasn't their own neighbors who would assault them in broad daylight.
No, if their neighbors were prone to crime, it was the other kind, the kind that involved Ponzi schemes and multi-level marketing scams. Their crimes might be just as devastating, but a whole lot more civilized.
When I'd gone a block past the guy, I resisted the urge to look back. But that soft chuckle, if I'd heard it at all, echoed through my brain in a way I found unsettling. It might've been fear. It might've been something else. Either way, I hadn't felt that unsettled in a long, long time.
