Текст книги "Corrupt "

Автор книги: Penelope Douglas

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Present

“THIS WAY, MISS FANE.” The man smiled and took a set of keys, leading me toward some elevators. “I’m Ford Patterson, one of the managers.”

He held out his hand, and I shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied.

I looked around the lobby of my new apartment building, Delcour, as we walked. It was a twenty-two-story skyscraper in Meridian City, built to house apartments and penthouses, and even though it wasn’t nearly as tall as some of the buildings surrounding it, it still stood out. Entirely black with gold fixtures on the outside, it was a work of art, and the interior was just as lavish. I couldn’t believe I was living here.

“You’re all the way up on the twenty-first floor,” he explained, stopping us at the elevator and pushing the button, “which has an amazing view. You’ll be pleased.”

I gripped the strap of my bag over my chest, barely able to wait. Nothing sounded so good as to wake up in the morning and gaze over the vast city, a horizon of buildings that touched the sky and millions of people working and living.

While some felt lost in large cities—the lights, noise, and action too much—I couldn’t contain the thrill of being part of something bigger. The energy excited me.

I checked my phone again, making sure I hadn’t missed a call from my mother. I was still worried about her. And kind of worried about me, too, even though I didn’t let it stop me from leaving Thunder Bay this morning.

After Mr. Ferguson had left my house last night, having found nothing inside or around the premises, I’d crawled into bed with my mom and stared at the note that had been left in the box with the dagger.

Beware the fury of a patient man.

I’d Googled it to find that it was a John Dryden quote, and I knew what it meant. Those

who are patient, plan. And beware the man with a plan.

But a plan for what? And who was that at my house last night in masks? Could it have been the Horsemen? Would they have sent me the dagger?

I woke up this morning, ignored a curt message from Trevor who was angry with me for leaving the party early, and questioned my mom and Irina, our housekeeper, both of whom knew nothing about the mysterious gift or who’d left it.

The note wasn’t signed, and no one knew how the box got there.

I’d caught the momentary flash of worry that crossed my mother’s face, so I’d hid the note and brushed off the dagger as something Trevor had probably left for me as a surprise. I didn’t want her to be scared for me.

But I definitely was.

Someone had been in my home, right under my mother’s nose.

In the rush to get on the road this morning, I’d slid the slender box, with the dagger, into the car and drove off not knowing why I’d brought it. I should’ve just left it at home.

The soft bell dinged, and I followed Mr. Patterson into the elevator, seeing him press twenty-one. But I narrowed my eyes, noticing that there were no floors higher than that.

“I thought there were twenty-two floors,” I inquired, standing next to him.

“There are.” He nodded assuredly. “But that floor houses only one residence, and he has his own private elevator across the lobby.”

I turned my head forward again, understanding. “I see.”

“Your floor only has two apartments,” he explained, “since the apartments are quite a bit larger. And the other apartment on your floor is currently vacant, so you’ll enjoy lots of privacy.”

The apartments were quite a bit larger on my floor? I didn’t remember anyone saying anything about that when I’d emailed the management to set up the lease.

“And here we are,” he chirped, stepping forward with a smile as the doors opened. He held out an arm, inviting me to go first.

Stepping out of the elevator, I looked left and then right, seeing a narrow, well-lit hallway with black, marble floors and walls the color of a sunset. He veered left, leading me to an apartment door, but I cast a quick look over my shoulder, seeing another massive, black door with the gold numbers 2104 on it.

That must be the empty one.

We reached the other apartment door—mine, apparently—and the manager immediately slid the key in and swung the door open, walking right inside.

I watched him saunter off into the apartment, while I remained standing in the doorway, frozen.

“Um…” Okay.

This didn’t make sense. This apartment was huge.

I slowly stepped inside, my arms hanging limply at my sides as I took in the high ceilings, spacious living room, and a full wall of windows, giving away the beautiful patio courtyard, complete with a fountain and actual grass outside. The same black marble floors carried in here from the hallway, but the apartment walls were cream-colored.

“As you can see,” Mr. Patterson began as he went to the window-wall and unlocked the glass. “You have a full gourmet kitchen with top of the line appliances, and you’ll love how the open floor plan preserves your view of the city.”

I glanced at the kitchen, the granite island shining in the sunlight spilling in through the windows. The chrome appliances were just as impressive as the ones in my own home, and the wrought iron kitchen chandelier—simple, sophisticated, and pretty—matched the one hanging above me in the living room.

He went on talking about three bedrooms, heated floors, and a rainfall shower, and I started shaking my head, overwhelmed. “Wait—”

But he cut me off. “There’s a community gym on the second floor as well as an indoor pool. Both are open twenty-four seven, and since you’re in one of the penthouses, you also enjoy a private courtyard.”

My eyebrows narrowed in confusion. I was in a penthouse? What?

“Wait,” I laughed, a little freaked out.

But he just kept going. “There are two doors to your apartment,” he told me, his tone turning serious. “The other one leads to a stairwell in case of a fire, but be sure it’s locked at all times.” He pointed to the end of the hall, and I jutted out my head to see the metal door down the dark hallway. “We are very tight on security here, but I wanted to make you aware of the alternate entrance.”

I brought my hand to my forehead, wiping away the light layer of sweat. What the hell was going on? The apartment was already completely furnished with expensive-looking sofas, tables, and electronics, and I watched him pick up a tablet and start to work the privacy glass on the wall of windows facing the city.

“Now let me show you—”

“Wait,” I blurted out, cutting him off. “I’m sorry. I think there’s been a mistake. I’m Erika Fane. I leased a one bedroom with one bath—not a penthouse. I have no idea whose apartment this is, but I’m paying rent for something much, much smaller.”

He looked confused, and then he picked up his file folder, probably checking his information.

Not that I didn’t love the penthouse, but I wasn’t forking over thousands of dollars every month for something I didn’t need.

He breathed out a laugh, studying the paperwork. “Ah, yes. I forgot.” He looked up at me. “That apartment was rented out unfortunately.”

My shoulders dropped, disappointment hitting me. “What?”

“It was a mix-up, and we’re very sorry. I was advised by the owners to honor the contract you had signed as an apology. There were two penthouses, both vacant, so we saw no reason why you shouldn’t have one of them. Your lease is still for a year, and your rent will remain the same during that time.” He held out the keys to me. “No one called you?”

I stared off, reaching out and taking them.

“No,” I answered. “And I’m still a little confused. Why would you give me twice the amount of apartment for the same price?”

He offered a smile, straightening his shoulders. It was how my mother looked growing up when she was done answering questions.

“As I said,” he placated, “we’re very sorry about the mix-up. Please accept our deepest apologies, and I hope this penthouse meets your expectations as you continue your studies this year.” He bowed his head. “Please let me know if you need anything, Miss Fane. I am at your service.”

And then he brushed past me, out of the apartment and closing the door behind him.

I stood there, feeling my stomach churn like the wind had been knocked out of me. I couldn’t believe it. How had this happened?

I turned in a slow circle, taking in the room, the reality, and, most of all, the silence. I was completely alone up here.

And although it was beautiful, I’d been excited about sleeping on an air mattress tonight before I went out to buy my own furniture tomorrow. I’d been excited about a small, cozy apartment and neighbors.

But school started in two days. I didn’t have time to find another place. “Dammit,” I growled under my breath.

Trailing slowly down the hallway, I wandered in and out of all the rooms, finding the spacious bathroom with a double vanity and a slate-tiled shower. Swinging open cabinets next to the sink, I noticed towels and wash clothes stocked and ready, as well as a loofah.

And then, trailing into the master bedroom, I noticed that is was already set up with a king-sized bed and furniture that matched the white bedding and drapes. The damn clock on the nightstand was already set, too.

Unbelievable. Everything was done for me. Just like at home.

The décor may be slightly different, and the scenery had certainly changed, but my life hadn’t. Everything was taken care of already. I’d even bet that if I opened the refrigerator, I’d find that stocked, as well.

Got to hand it to those Thunder Bay mothers making sure one of their princesses was tucked in all tight. There’s no way this was a welcome committee just leaving a basket of fruit.

I shook my head, feeling the walls close in.

The women in Thunder Bay were busy ladies. They were powerful, influential, and thorough, and as their children, we sat comfortably under that umbrella. I even more so, because my father was deceased, and my mother was…weak.

As a kid, I’d appreciated the safety of the shelter they provided, but I wanted to do things for myself now. Space, distance, and maybe a little trouble. That’s what I was looking for.

I let out a sigh and slipped the keys into the pocket of my white jean shorts. Grabbing the hem of my black sweater, I pulled it up and over my head, leaving me in my short-sleeved gray T-shirt.

Walking back through the apartment, I stepped across the open threshold from the living room and into the courtyard, my toes in my black flip-flops touching the grass. Gazing around the expansive area, I noticed that it was designed in the shape of a rectangle, with one long side open to offer a view of the city.

To my left, I saw more windows, probably belonging to the vacant apartment I shared the floor with. And then, turning right, my gaze drifted up, up, up, and I craned my neck to see the floor above me, whose residence curved around the side of the building, making the windows partly visible from here.

It also appeared to have more than one balcony and a perfect view into the courtyard. I wondered if a family live there, to need so much space, but then I remembered Mr. Patterson saying “he.”

I let my gaze linger on his windows, realizing I wasn’t alone up here, after all.

I BLINKED AWAKE, the blanket of sleep weighing heavy as I lay on my stomach hugging my pillow.

My ears perked, hearing a tapping sound coming from somewhere far away.

Tap, tap, tap…tap…tap

I leaned up on my arms, trying to bring my eyes into focus.

Was that knocking? But who would be knocking? I didn’t know anyone here—not yet anyway. I’d just arrived today, and I didn’t have any neighbors…

And—I glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand—it was after one in the morning.

Turning over, I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, slowly feeling the fogginess dissipate.

I thought for sure that I’d heard knocking. Like a steady thumping.

I looked around me, the moonlight streaming in from the window and falling across the white sheets as I listened for any sound in the silence of the still and dark apartment.

But then a loud thud hit, and I jumped, sucking in a breath. Throwing off the sheets, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

That wasn’t a knock.

Clutching the phone in my hand, I slowly tiptoed across my bedroom floor, listening for another sound and searching my brain, trying to remember if I’d locked all the doors. The front, the glass partition to the courtyard, and…

Had I locked the rear entrance? Yeah. Yeah, of course I had.

But then the thud hit again, and I halted. What the hell?

It was dull and heavy, like deadweight falling, and I had no idea if it was above me, below me, or next to me.

I crept down the hallway, into the living room and past the load of paint supplies I’d bought earlier today. I may not have gotten the tiny apartment I wanted or been able to buy my own pots and pans, but I could sure as hell make this place mine with a little color.

Jogging silently into the kitchen, I grabbed a knife out of the block and fisted the handle, the blade facing behind me as I approached the front door. I still wasn’t sure where the sound came from, but common sense told me to check the entrances.

I peered through the peephole, every hair on my arms standing on end. As much as I’d wanted to be on my own, I was a little freaked out about that now.

Arching up on my tiptoes, I peered through the hole, spotting the elevator a few feet down the hall and the soft flicker of the sconces.

But there was nothing and no one visible. The hallway appeared empty.

I jerked my head behind me as the booming thuds sounded again.

I fell back to my feet and crept through my apartment as I listened to the pounding that had now become a steady attack. My feet followed the sound, stepping absently closer to it, and I finally pressed my ear against the wall leading to my hallway, my heart racing as the vibrations touched my skin.

Resting my cheek against the surface, I swallowed the tight lump in my throat as the thumping against the wall grew faster and faster.

There was someone over there. In the empty apartment.

Holding up my phone, I dialed the office downstairs but got no answer. I knew there was a night manager named Simon Something-Or-Other, but I didn’t think many people were on duty at night. He must be away from his desk.

I continued listening, wondering if I could ignore it and just wait until morning to ask the manager about it, but the further down the hall I travelled, the louder it got until I was standing next to the rear entrance.

Opening up the door, I peeked my head into the hallway, holding the heavy steel exit open just enough to inspect.

Glancing to my right, I saw a door just like mine. And then I heard a woman’s high-pitched cry ring out around me, and I started breathing harder.

And then there was another cry. And another, and another, and…

Was she having sex? My mouth fell open as I tried not to laugh.

Oh, my God.

But I thought the place was supposed to be empty.

I stepped out, knife in hand—just in case—and walked quietly down to the other door, glancing up and seeing small security cameras along the wall, probably installed when the apartments were built.

Pressing my ear to the door, I listened, still hearing the thump, thump, thump of something hitting the wall, and the girl’s breathy cries over and over again.

I folded my lips between my teeth, covering my smile with my free hand.

But then the woman cried out. “No! Ah, oh, God! Please!”

And my face fell, hearing the fear in her voice. The short, shrill screams were now different. Panicked and scared, and her cries sounded struggled. My mouth suddenly went dry as I stood there listening.

“Ah!” she cried out again. “No, please stop!”

I backed away from the door, not finding it funny anymore.

But then something hit the door from the other side, making a loud thud, and I scurried backward. “Oh, shit,” I gritted out under my breath.

I shot my head up to the cameras, now wondering if they fed to Security downstairs or to whoever was inside the apartment. Did they know I was out here?

I spun around and dashed for my door, grabbing the handle and trying to twist it.

But it was locked. “Dammit!” I mouthed. Fucking thing must lock automatically.

Another thud hit the door, mere feet away from me—so close—and I darted my eyes over to it, my breathing turning fast and painful.

I pulled on the door handle again, twisting and yanking, but it didn’t budge.

Another thud hit the door, and I jerked upright, dropping the knife.

“Shit.”

I dived down to pick it up, but just then I heard the other door swing open, so I bolted down the stairwell, hiding behind the wall and forgetting about the knife.

Fuck!

Screw this. Whoever was coming out of the vacant apartment was definitely someone I didn’t want to meet. I dashed down flight after flight, a cry lodged in my throat as fear gripped my chest.

A pounding echoed above me, and I spared a quick glance upward, seeing a hand sliding down the railings as whoever it was jumped flights of stairs.

Oh, my God. I raced down, one flight after the other, a drop of sweat gliding down my neck. The pounding was getting closer and closer, my legs about to give out as my exhausted muscles worked as fast as they could. I gasped, seeing the door labeled LOBBY. I yanked it open and burst through, looking behind me once again to see if he—or she—was behind me.

But then I slammed into a wall, and I let out a small cry as hands gripped my upper arms.

I looked up and exhaled a breath, seeing Michael Crist towering over me, his eyes narrowed.

“Michael?” I breathed out, frozen in confusion.

“What the hell are you doing?” He arched a brow and set me back, away from him, and let go of my arm. “It’s after one a.m.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Why was he here?

He stood in front of an elevator, a different one than I had taken this morning, dressed in a black suit, looking like he’d just been at a club or something. A young brunette stood next to him, beautiful in a tight, navy-blue cocktail dress that fell mid-thigh.

I suddenly felt exposed, dressed in my silk sleep shorts and black tank top, my hair hanging about, probably in tangles.

“I…” I looked over my shoulder again, noticing that whoever had followed me down the stairs hadn’t come out the door yet.

I twisted my head back, looking up at Michael. “I heard something up on my floor,” I told him.

And then I shook my head, still confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he shot back, and I immediately recognized that ever-present intolerant tone that he always used with me.

“Live here?” I questioned. “I thought you lived in your family’s building.”

He slid a hand into his pocket and cocked his head, looking at me point-blank like I was stupid.

I closed my eyes, expelling a sigh. “Of course,” I breathed out, realization hitting. “Of course. You’re the one who lives on the twenty-second floor.”

I started connected all the pieces: the separate elevator he and the girl stood by, the lone gentleman living above me, Mrs. Crist sending me the link for Delcour as a suggestion and not telling me their family owned the building…

And the luxury apartment all to myself, ready to go and just waiting for me.

Mrs. Crist—and most likely her husband as well—made sure I ended up here. Keeping me close and under their thumb.

“And who’s this?”

I glanced over, seeing the young woman with chocolate hair and piercing eyes, polished like a movie star on premiere night.

Michael looked ahead, his lips twisting slightly. “My little brother’s girlfriend.”

“Aw…” she responded.

I averted my eyes, aggravated.

His little brother’s girlfriend. He couldn’t even say my name.

And I wasn’t Trevor’s girlfriend anymore. I wasn’t sure if he knew that, but it had been months. It had to have come up in conversation in his house.

“What did you hear?” he demanded, and I looked up to see him staring down at me.

I hesitated, not sure if I should I tell him about the noises or the woman’s cries. I didn’t feel safe up there now, and I wanted a manager, but Michael barely gave me the time of day. He probably wouldn’t hear anything I had to say.

“Nothing,” I finally said, letting out a sigh. “Forget it.”

He studied me for a moment and then reached out and swiped a white card in front of a sensor on the wall, his private elevator doors immediately opening. He turned to the girl. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’ll be up in a minute.”

She nodded, a slight smile playing on her lips as she walked into the elevator and pushed the button, the doors quickly closing before her.

Michael ignored me and walked over to the front desk, talking to the person on security. The man nodded and handed him what appeared to be keys, and then Michael sauntered back over to me, his height and athletic frame making my mouth go dry again.

God, he was beautiful.

After all these years, my entire life following him with my eyes, my body still warmed whenever he was close.

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to dull the thud of my thrilled heart. I shouldn’t want to be close to him. Not after how he’d pushed me away nearly my entire life and treated me all those years ago.

I brought my hand up to my neck, absently running a finger over the jagged line.

“Simon is going to do a walk-through of the stairwell and your floor,” he told me. “Come on. I’ll take you up.”

“I said forget it,” I insisted, not budging. “I don’t need help.”

But he walked to the other elevator anyway, and I spotted the security guard opening the door to the stairwell and disappearing.

Reluctantly, I followed Michael, stepping into the elevator in my bare feet and watching him push twenty-one.

“You know what floor I live on?” I asked.

But he didn’t answer.

The elevator began ascending, and I stood there next to him, trying to remain still. I didn’t want to breathe too hard or fidget too much. I’d always been hyper-aware of Michael, and I was afraid he could tell. Maybe if I thought he saw me as anything other than trivial, I wouldn’t worry what he thought so much.

But as I dropped my arms and stared ahead, the slight flow of air coming through the vent making my hair dance across the skin of my chest and the tops of my breasts, I licked my lips, feeling the pull of him right there, only inches away. My chest rose and fell, heat cascading down my neck, and I felt my nipples tighten as the fire over my skin moved across my stomach and pooled between my thighs.

My sleep shorts felt too tight all of a sudden, and my stomach felt hollow, aching like I hadn’t eaten in days.

Jesus.

I reached up, brushing my hair behind my ear and feeling like he was looking at me.

But I wouldn’t dare a glance. After seeing the cover model he’d brought home for the night, all I could do was straighten my back, square my shoulders, and deal.

Like I had for years.

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened, Michael stepping out first, clearly not the gentleman Mr. Patterson was. He walked directly for my apartment, and I followed, speaking to his back.

“When Mr. Patterson showed me around today, he told me that apartment was empty.” I glanced behind me at the door of the supposedly vacant apartment. “But I heard noises just a little while ago.”

He turned around, eyeing the door behind me. “What kinds of noises?”

Headboards banging the walls, cries, screams, pants, people going at it…

I shrugged, deciding to be vague. “Just noises.”

He exhaled a sigh through his nose, sounding annoyed. Walking around me, he made for the other apartment and jiggled the door handle, knocking several times when it didn’t work.

The door opened, and I widened my eyes in surprise, but then the same security guard from downstairs emerged.

“Nothing here, sir. I checked the stairwell, and there’s no sign of a disturbance.”

“Thank you,” Michael offered. “Make sure the apartment is locked, and head back downstairs.”

“Yes, sir.”

I watched the guard lock the front door and then wait at the elevator as Michael walked back over to me, keys out and his hazel eyes looking even more impatient.

He brushed past me and unlocked my front door.

“How did you know I locked myself out?” I followed him into the apartment.

“I didn’t.” He slid the keys into his pants pocket. “But I figured it was a safe bet. You didn’t have keys on you, and the rear apartment entrances leading to the stairwell always auto-lock. Remember that.”

I rolled my eyes, watching him charge through my apartment. Three years ago—hell, five days ago—I would’ve loved to have him in my space. Talking to me, watching out for me…

But that’s not what he was doing now. I was still as invisible to him as the air he breathed. And far less important.

One night. It still lived in my memory, vivid and wild, and I wished he’d remember it. But it had turned to shit, anyway, just like the way he treated me.

Crossing my arms over my chest and steeling myself, I stared off, just waiting for him to leave.

He checked the rooms, the rear entrance, and came back out, pushing on the glass doors to make sure they were secure.

“It’s not unusual for the staff to take breaks in one of the empty apartments,” he explained in a flat tone. “In any event, it’s quiet now.”

I nodded, forcing a defiant look. “Like I said, I don’t need help.”

I heard him breathe out a quiet laugh, and I looked up, seeing a condescending smile in his eyes.

“You don’t, huh?” he replied, sounding snide. “You got everything covered? You’re in control?”

I lifted my chin slightly, not answering him.

He strode back over, eyeing me with arrogant amusement. “It’s a nice apartment,” he commented, gazing around him. “You must’ve worked hard to earn the money to pay for it. As well as the bills to those credit cards in your wallet, and that nice, new car you just got.”

I ground my teeth together, a flood of emotions I wasn’t sure what to do with hitting me. I hated what he was saying. It wasn’t that simple, and it wasn’t fair.

He stepped up to me, narrowing his eyes. “You ran away from my brother, my family, your mother, and even your own friends,” he pointed out, “but what if one day you found that all of those securities you took for granted—your house, your money, and the people who love you—weren’t there anymore? Would you need help then? Would you finally realize how very brittle you are without those comforts you seem to think you don’t need?”

I stared up at him, hardening every muscle, so I wouldn’t give myself away.

Yeah, sure. I enjoyed the money. And maybe if I were really serious about being on my own, I’d have chucked it all. The credit cards, the car, and the tuition money.

So was I what he implied? A coward who talked a good talk but would never really know pain or the struggle of having to fight for anything?

“No, I think you’d be fine,” he said in a low, sultry voice as he took a lock of my hair, grinding it between his fingers. “Pretty girls always have something to trade in, right?”

I shot my eyes up, locking gazes with him as I knocked his hand away. What the fuck was the matter with him?

The corner of his mouth tilted in a smile, and he walked around me toward the door. “’Night, Little Monster.”

And I whipped around, just seeing him slip through the door and close it behind him.

Little Monster. Why had he called me that? I hadn’t heard that name in three years.

Not since that night.