Bad Influence, page 10
He’d held that important place once, and something told him he hadn’t slipped entirely.
“So what if I am?” She shrugged. “It’s none of your business.”
In any other argument he’d be hunting for that spot, the chink in the armor. He was used to exploiting those vulnerabilities to get what he wanted. That skill had served him incredibly well in his career. It was also the thing that had earned him the label of selfish in his personal relationships.
And he wasn’t about to repeat that mistake.
“You’re right, it’s not my business.” He nodded. “Let me walk you upstairs and make sure your apartment is secure. I won’t set foot inside your place,” he promised. “I’ll wait at the door while you check inside, and when you give me the all clear, I’ll go.”
Her expression softened slightly. “Stubborn as ever, I see.”
“Please.” It wasn’t a word he used often.
She looked at him for a long moment, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth as if weighing her options. “Okay, fine.”
They headed to the elevators, awkward silence clogging the air around them. Even the other people waiting there—a young couple with a child of about five—gave them a wide berth. Was the tension that obvious? Likely. He felt it rolling off Annie in waves as they rode the carriage up to her floor.
“So…” She hitched her overnight bag higher up on her shoulder as they exited the elevator. “Are you living in Manhattan?”
“Yeah, on Sutton Place.”
“You mean to tell me that when you barged into my apartment last weekend, you had your own place to go to?” She frowned at him as she dug her key out of her bag.
He glanced at her with a wry smile. “Yeah.”
“You’re unbelievable.” She shook her head. “You told me you didn’t have anywhere to go.”
“I didn’t say that exactly.”
“You implied it.”
“Yes, I implied it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I hadn’t expected to run into you so soon, and I wanted to see how you were.”
“So instead of asking me, you decided it would be better to convince me to let you into my home?”
“You pushed me into the pond.”
“You fell into the pond.”
He snorted. “Yes, totally of my own accord. That little accident had nothing to do with you.”
She stared straight ahead as they walked.
“Would you have answered me if I’d asked?”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t give you the right to lie by omission so I’ll take pity on you.”
“You took pity on me? It seemed like you enjoyed me sitting there in only a towel.”
“I preferred the idea of you walking home in it.” A smirk passed over her lips, and she shoved her key into her lock.
“I’ll wait here,” he said, leaning against the wall.
“And what, I scream bloody murder if I find someone inside?” She turned to him, her dark eyes brimming with something intense. Something primal.
“If I don’t hear from you in a minute, I’ll barge in.”
“This is stupid.” She huffed. “Don’t wait outside like a dog. We’ll check it together, and then you can go.”
That was her way of saying thank you, even though she clearly hated to need his assistance. Whatever. She could be as prickly as she liked; it didn’t matter. The only way he’d have a hope in hell of sleeping tonight was if he knew she was alone in this apartment with a working lock between her and the outside world.
Chapter 8
“You’re done for now, you stupid bitch. Watch your back.”
—TheEveryMan
Why couldn’t she ever stand her ground with Joseph Preston? He’d managed to barge into her apartment the morning of the pond incident with the same driving persistence he’d used on her throughout their entire relationship.
Are we going to ignore that your stomach was in knots the entire subway ride just thinking about walking into this place by yourself?
Yes, she was absolutely going to ignore that. Avoid, the little voice in her head urged. Avoid, avoid, avoid!
But avoiding the issue of her creepy hacker wouldn’t work now. Joseph was right. Simply doing a reset on her computer wasn’t going to cut it. She didn’t even know how the hacker had gotten access in the first place.
“How long were you waiting?” she asked as they walked slowly through her apartment. She flipped every single light switch on as she went.
“Not long. Half an hour.”
Wow. He’d gotten cranky if she was more than five minutes late when they used to be together. Maybe he had changed.
They walked into her bedroom, and she reached for the light but miscalculated and accidentally clipped the edge of her chest of drawers. A string of curse words flew out of her mouth as she finally found the switch.
Joseph had gotten her all riled up. Her palms were slick with sweat, and her heart thudded an erratic beat against her rib cage. Dark hair fell into her eyes, and she blew it out of the way in an agitated huff.
“Everything okay?” he asked. His presence behind her was as comforting as it was unsettling. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate, it was like her body reacted by flipping every freaking “on” switch in her nervous system.
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”
His lip twitched, but he stopped short of smiling. “You always did swear like a sailor.”
“It’s my one vice.”
They stood awkwardly in her room as she looked around. It wasn’t the biggest space, just enough for a queen-size bed and one bedside table. A small chest of drawers was pushed against one wall. Memories flickered before her eyes—her fists curling into his chest, tugging him to the bed. The weight of him pressing her down, hot kisses on her neck.
She cleared her throat. “Mom asked me why I didn’t tell her you were back,” she said. That was one conversation guaranteed to kill any latent sexual desire dead in the water.
“Who spilled the beans?”
“She ran into Zia Mariella at Costco, who said she’d had lunch with Anna-Maria from down the street and she had spoken with Petra—Petra who’s married to Tony—whose grandson works for one of the banks, and he read an article saying that you were now the ‘chief something-or-other,’ as she put it.”
“Chief something-or-other. It’s what I’ve always aspired to be,” he quipped, his eyes scanning her face. “I bet she cursed my name until you lied and told her you hadn’t talked to me.”
She hated how astute he was, how his eyes seemed to break her down piece by piece until they found what they were looking for. A weak spot.
“Pretty much.”
“How’s the family?” he asked. His expression was difficult to read. “How’s…Connie’s health?”
“She’s doing well. Sofia is looking into colleges, and Allegra is loving living away from home.”
“And your dad?” This time there was a catch in his voice.
“Paving his way to a heart attack with cannoli and sfogliatelle.” She let out a dry laugh. “You’d think after everything that’s happened, his health would be number one.”
“You’re his number one. You and Connie and the girls.” Joseph sounded almost wistful.
“Not much good he can do us if he’s dead.”
The words came out sharper than she’d intended, her voice brimming with emotion. Damn it, couldn’t she keep her cool for five minutes around Joseph?
If she’d wanted to come off as unaffected and distant, she’d blown that to smithereens. She’d always promised herself that if she ever bumped into him, she’d make it known that her life was better without him. Ha! She could chalk that up to a big, fat fail.
“Don’t be so hard on him. He does nothing but support you and your sisters.”
“You always take his side.” For a moment, the anger melted away, and she remembered why she’d wanted to marry him.
He’d slotted into her family seemingly overnight, immediately becoming best buds with Sal and learning enough Italian to put a smile on Nonno’s face. He’d attended every family event by her side, learned all their traditions and cultural quirks.
He’d worked so hard to be accepted even though he didn’t need to. They would have loved him no matter what.
“Well, you used to take his side,” she corrected herself.
“Shit, Annie.” Joseph paused, swallowing. “I know I fucked things up between us. I know I’ve been an absolute bastard.”
She turned away, her throat constricting. “I’m glad you’ve finally caught up with the rest of us.”
His sandalwood and cologne scent invaded her nostrils, dredging up the past. She’d been trying to ignore it ever since they’d gotten into the elevator together. It was the expensive soap she’d bought him so he’d have something nice in the shower when he stayed over. Back then, she was still studying, working as a barista and stocking shelves at a supermarket to save so she wouldn’t have an enormous student debt hanging over her head. That soap had cost more than a whole day’s work.
But it smelled like he still used the same one now.
In her periphery, his jaw clenched. “I wish I could do it over.”
Tears filled her eyes like hot, angry needles. There was no way she would let him see her cry—not again. Not ever again.
He sighed. “I should have let you know I was coming home.”
“No.” She whirled around to face him, heat racing through her veins. “You shouldn’t have left in the first place. Then you wouldn’t have had to tell me you were coming home because you’d already be home.”
His mouth hung open, those perfectly shaped lips parted in surprise. Those lips had been her world once, his every kiss filling her with desire, hope, and purpose.
She balled her fists, pressing her nails into the heels of her hands. “You left me when I needed you more than I ever had. She…she could have died.”
The wave of emotion hit her out of nowhere, pain and anger filling her nose and throat and ears. Drowning her. Suffocating her.
“I’m sorry, I—”
The sound of her phone ringing cut him off. Saved by the bell. “Hello?”
Silence. Then breathing.
“Hello?” A tremor raced the length of her spine. Was it possible for such a soft sound, barely perceptible to her ears, to feel threatening? “Who’s there?”
“Leanne Maxwell.” The voice was disguised with a robotic tone.
She sucked in a breath and yanked the phone away from her ear, stabbing at the speaker button with her finger. Joseph’s eyes snapped to hers.
“I’m coming to get you,” the robotic voice continued. “Leanne Maxwell in apartment fifteen-twenty… See you soon.”
Joseph grabbed the phone from her hands, but the call had disconnected. “Fuck.”
Annie’s hands shook as she sank, mute, onto her bed. He had her apartment number!
“You’ve probably been doxed.” Joseph’s voice was hard-edged.
Doxed. Her mind spun. The term sounded familiar, but in her panicked state, she couldn’t grasp what it meant. “What?”
“It’s when someone publishes your personal information online.” His expression told her all she needed to know. If someone had done that, then an unwanted phone call was about to be the least of her worries.
“But you fixed my computer.” Her chest heaved as she sucked in air. “You wiped everything, right?”
“They must have already had what they needed.”
“Then why the photo?” Her pitch climbed higher, panic flooding her system like a toxin. “Why do that?”
“Maybe they were toying with you?” He shoved a hand through his hair. “We’re getting out of here. Now. You’re coming back to my place.”
Oh, hell no. Not a chance.
But what else could she do? Go back to her parents and have to fess up about what she’d done? About Bad Bachelors and the hacking and…everything? To Darcy’s place, where she lived with her fiancé who’d been a target of Annie’s site? To Remi’s place? Remi wasn’t speaking to her because of Bad Bachelors.
Where else could she turn?
“Don’t even try to argue with me.” The raw edge to his tone was like a knife’s blade running along her nerves. “If you think I’m letting you stay here on your own, you’re mistaken. Come on.”
She grabbed his arm, halting him. Muscles flexed through the fine wool of his sweater, but he didn’t brush her hand away. Unnerved, she let go.
“I don’t want go to your apartment.” The fear that tinted her words made her cringe. “I’ll stay at a hotel instead.”
“What if someone’s watching you now? What if they follow you?” He shook his head. “No. A hotel isn’t secure enough. We’re going to my place.”
Was he overreacting? What was the worst someone would do?
You’re really asking that? After the vicious, violent emails you’ve received?
But what people said online wasn’t the same as how they acted in person, right? They wouldn’t actually go through with it…would they?
Watch your back.
How many times had she read that in an email? Her app and website hadn’t only pissed off the men of Manhattan, or even the entire state. What she’d done had pissed off men everywhere. Women too. As much as she truly believed she was helping some people, it was hard to deny she’d hurt others.
But that was life, wasn’t it? Existing in the gray area between good and bad, hoping that you were inching closer to the former. Pleasing the entire world just wasn’t possible.
“Grab a bag,” Joseph said. “Throw in some clothes and your laptop. Then we’re getting the hell out of here.”
* * *
It didn’t take long to get to Joseph’s place. In fact, the cab ride was so short that Annie knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of her head how close he was. Maybe that was simply her brain fixating on something safer than her current situation. Although calling proximity to her ex safe was kind of laughable. A month ago, this would have been the worst thing in the world.
Now, he was the only guy she could trust.
As the elevator in his apartment building whisked them up to the penthouse floor—because of course he had a penthouse suite—the silence made her antsy. She leaned against the back of the elevator, an overnight bag hanging heavy on her shoulder, trying to remember what she’d thrown inside. Probably a mismatched outfit that she wouldn’t even be able to leave the house in. Had she remembered clean socks? Clean underwear? Who the hell knew?
They exited at the top floor. Plush carpet muffled their footsteps, and not a peep came from the only other apartment on this level. The hallway was like a tomb. For some reason, Annie didn’t want to know what was behind Joseph’s front door. Because this would be the final nail in the coffin of knowing that he was home for good. Of knowing that she couldn’t shove him back into a dark corner of her mind, smothering her memories with a mental blanket, hoping to snuff them out like a candle. He had a home. Here.
He was back.
Joseph shoved his key into the lock, and the door open soundlessly. He motioned for her to walk in ahead of him, and she held her breath, her bag bumping against her hip with each step. The apartment was sprawling, so large that if she’d seen a picture of it, she would have claimed that it couldn’t possibly be located in Manhattan. Looked like his new CIO gig was paying well.
White couches faced a window framing the river below. There was a sleek chrome-and-glass coffee table with nothing on it. The kitchen occupied a generous corner of space, and was also white and silver and glass. So sleek. Harshly modern. And totally lacking in personality.
The apartment was like a showroom for a high-end interior designer. This wasn’t a home that was lived in or loved, nor was it a place that reflected the occupant. It was a mask.
“You get to christen the spare room,” he said. “Haven’t had a use for it yet, other than stashing some boxes that I haven’t unpacked.”
“No guests?” she asked.
He shook his head.
Annie wanted to clarify whether that meant no guests who’d stayed in the spare room, or no guests who’d visited at all. But even thinking that question caused a riot of unpleasant images to flash in her mind—of sweaty bodies and greedy hands and desperate lips that weren’t hers. What right did she have to feel jealous? None. Absolutely none. Still, common sense wasn’t enough to stop the swishing in her stomach, that ugly, vicious, painful churning that was all too familiar.
“Why don’t you unpack, and I’ll organize something for dinner. If you want to freshen up, there’s a second bathroom next to your room.”
Her room. She decided not to comment on that.
“I’ll grab you some towels.” He looked at her long and hard, like he was trying to figure something out. She knew that look.
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “This is an untenable situation.”
An expression tugged at the edge of Joseph’s lips. A smile? A smirk? She couldn’t tell. “Untenable?”
“What I mean to say is… I can’t stay here. Not for long.”
He nodded. “I know. We’ll find a solution. But right now, the only thing I give a shit about is keeping you safe. You have no idea what these people are capable of.”
“And you do? This could all be a hoax.”
“Do you really want to take that risk? This kind of stuff doesn’t happen without a catalyst. Something has triggered these assholes.”
Annie wanted to know why he cared. He didn’t have any responsibility for her. Period. This was her issue, her problem. Her punishment. Not his.
