Page 51 of Avoiding Temptation
“Fuck,” Joe barks, but I’m frozen in fear at the sight of my door ajar.
He was here.
This isn’t some kind of shitty luck that they chose my empty flat to break into. This has been planned. Planned to ensure I’m terrified in the hope that I’ll bend to his wishes to retract everything I’d accused him of.
Not happening.
My body rattles with fear, but I refuse to allow him to continue to ruin my life. I muster up some strength from somewhere and take a step forward.
“Quinn, wait.”
I ignore Joe’s call and push my door open.
Everything looks exactly as I left it.
My only item worth any money, my laptop, is still sitting on the coffee table where I put it after work on Friday night.
“What the hell?” Joe asks, stepping into the flat and casting his eyes around the room.
“Maybe they got scared off after they broke in,” I offer as an explanation. He nods, accepting it as a possibility, but I know better.
This wasn’t kids, and no one was scared off.
This is a warning.
My stomach turns, bile burning up my throat as I think about him being here. In the one safe place I’ve got.
“Come home with me tonight.”
“What?” I ask, not registering the words he’s saying as I stand frozen in the middle of my living room.
“Come home with me. We’ll sort out a locksmith from there.”
“No, I—”
“No arguing. I’m not leaving you here.” His eyes scan over my face, and I hate to think of the terrified girl he probably sees. “Grab what you need for work tomorrow.”
I stare at him for a second or two. I desperately want to argue, but when his eyebrow twitches in a ‘don’t start with me’ gesture, I swallow down the words and turn towards the bathroom.
Stepping into the room, I go to gather up a few bits that I didn’t take with me this weekend, but I’m frozen in my tracks.
I try not to react, but I can’t stop a scream from passing my lips at the sight.
“Quinn?”
“Sorry, spider,” I shout back, pushing the door closed so he can’t look into the room.
I stare at the mirror hanging over the basin and fight to keep the contents of my stomach where they should be.
I’m watching you…is scrawled across the glass in red lipstick. The arsehole’s even finished it off with a little kiss.
My fists clench until my nails begin to cut into my skin.
The longer I stare at the words, the more my anger starts to bubble up within me. How dare he? How fucking dare he force his way into my new life in an attempt to scare me?
Racing forward, I grab a packet of face wipes that are sitting on the counter, pull a few out and start scrubbing.
I need him gone. Out of my life and out of my head. I’ve already spent enough years being controlled by him. I refuse to allow him to continue to do so.
