Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Aurora sat up in bed, breathing hard. She’d been having strange, disturbing dreams. She looked around the room. Lana was asleep in the bed next to her. But Aurora couldn’t remember exactly why her best friend was spending the night.
Then, in a flood, the events of the past day came back to her. The “Angels and Demons” party at The Lighthouse Club. Hiding in Mrs. Wolfson’s office. She flinched as she recalled the gunshot. The splattering of blood.
Tears welled in her eyes, and her stomach burned with nausea.
And then that man on the rooftop in the afternoon. Rick Harrison. She had accused him of working for her brother, which made her sound like an idiot. She was paranoid. Plenty of real threats and problems were looming, and she certainly didn’t need to invent new ones.
Spoiled little rich girl.
Why did she even care what that guy thought of her? So what if he was her new neighbor? He was some jerk, probably working in tech or finance, and he no doubt hadn’t given her a second thought after he left.
Except for the fact that he had to carry her back to her apartment, she remembered now. She’d basically fainted in front of him, like some fragile debutante. God, how mortifying.
She had to get her mind off everything that had happened, especially her new neighbor next door.
Aurora strode into the bathroom, where the light was already on. She closed the door most of the way, so she wouldn’t wake Lana, and washed her face.
Her closet connected to the bathroom. She went inside.
This was one of the best features of this apartment. The huge walk-in closet space. She’d only filled half of it with her clothes and shoes, and sometimes she daydreamed about what she might buy to fill the rest of it. Someday, when she had money of her own to spend.
Rick Harrison probably had a closet full of overpriced stuff he didn’t even use. Multiple closets at various houses because he hadn’t brought much with him here. Aurora hadn’t seen any movers.
True, if you overlooked the arrogant personality, Rick was extremely attractive. Objectively speaking. But he wasn’t even her type. Guys with a military bearing usually reminded her of Max. She couldn’t imagine having a sexual thought about any man who resembled her brother. Gross.
But that guy. Rick. Who was even called Rick anymore? It was straight out of an eighties movie.
She pictured the strong, lean shape of his body. His dark tousled hair, cut short at the sides.
Nope. Not her type. She was determined to forget about him.
She dug into a drawer to find her favorite yoga clothes: a halter-top sports bra and a pair of high-waisted leggings with mesh cut-outs along the sides. She slipped them on and turned back and forth in front of her full-length mirror. Her hands ran along the smooth fabric.
It had been such an indulgence, buying clothes this expensive and this impractical for herself. She’d bought these items right after Brandon Wolfson’s first payment for her party-planning services.
That indirect connection to Wolfson’s death stole a little of her joy in owning the clothes, but she banished that thought. She wouldn’t let those thugs destroy this small source of happiness.
She loved the way the bra lifted her breasts, and how her stomach looked flat and toned where it was exposed. She hadn’t even worn these clothes out of the house yet, just enjoying them here on her own when she streamed yoga videos. Actually, she was afraid to mess up the nice fabric.
But this was exactly what she needed. A reminder that she was strong and didn’t need anybody else to make her feel safe or secure. She didn’t need any man’s approval to feel good about herself, did she?
Justin, her college boyfriend back in St. Louis, had done a number on her self-confidence.
Justin had been controlling and condescending, and she’d let him get away with it for too long.
He’d subtly poked fun at her “easy” business classes, amazed that party-planning was even a career.
Thank god she’d come to her senses. But when she broke up with him, she’d realized she had nothing of her own.
Aurora didn’t have much of her own in West Oaks, either. She’d been trying to change that.
She was grateful that Lana had stayed overnight, and Aurora would’ve done the same for her best friend. But it was essential for Aurora to know that she could make it through this no matter what, regardless of who else was surrounding her.
A bodyguard, she thought dismissively. She didn’t need any damned bodyguard.
But she did feel a surge of nervous, restless energy pumping through her veins. She needed to be productive. She needed something to do. A glance at her clock told her it was three in the morning, not exactly a reasonable time for starting new projects.
But suddenly she just couldn’t be still. She couldn’t imagine going back to bed and trying to sleep. And even if she did fall asleep, those dreams might come back.
Awful, blood-soaked dreams.
Aurora snuck out into the living room, scanning for something to keep her occupied.
It was pretty clean already. Most of the time, she wasn’t tidy.
Her ex always complained about her messes.
But this fancy apartment seemed to demand a higher standard.
The place was so beautiful that she couldn’t help feeling like a guest here, instead of at home.
Max had recruited a top interior designer to decorate these penthouses.
It wasn’t Aurora’s style, with all the floral patterns, the thick fabrics, and ornate light fixtures.
She would’ve preferred something cozier.
Bright colors, a few cushy pillows, and framed prints on the walls that didn’t look like they’d been sold at auction.
Spoiled little rich girl, Rick had called her. What a joke. If he only knew where she really came from. But still, his assumptions stung.
Her hands fluttered at her sides, desperate for something to keep them busy. Some way to keep her mind off her obnoxious neighbor and his even more obnoxiously handsome face.
She eyed the living room furniture. From the moment she’d walked into this place on her first day back in West Oaks, she hadn’t liked the layout of the furniture in the space.
It was cold and impersonal, like a hotel lobby instead of her apartment.
And it was her apartment, even just temporarily.
Who said she couldn’t make it more comfortable? Make it more her own?
She grabbed a chair and tugged it out of the way. Aurora knew exactly what she wanted to do with all this nervous energy.
Half an hour later, Lana stumbled out of the bedroom, her hair sticking out wildly. “What on earth is happening out here? What’s all that banging?”
“I’m redecorating.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“I felt inspired.” She had already moved the sofa into a new position and banished one of the striped chairs that she absolutely hated to a different room.
Right now, she was in the process of switching out an ugly landscape for a canvas from the dining room, one that she actually didn’t mind.
It was an abstract piece, clearly based on the ocean view from the roof.
Cool, calming shades of blue and green and beige.
“I just need to change the picture hanger in here. This one isn’t going to work with that other canvas.”
She charged over to the laundry room, where she’d stashed her toolbox. Lana’s footsteps trailed behind her.
“Okay,” her friend said, sighing. “How can I help?”
Aurora found the picture hanger she wanted, but now her hammer seemed to be missing.
“My hammer is gone. I swear if Justin stole it from this box before I left…”
She’d had to leave at least half of her tool collection in St. Louis because Justin had claimed they were his. But she was missing her favorite hammer, the one with a bright pink handle that Lana had gifted her back in high school.
Lana perched a hand on her hip. “The pink one? I can’t imagine that Justin wanted that. It must be here somewhere. I’ll look.”
Lana dug through the various levels of the toolbox. But Aurora couldn’t stand around watching, nor could she focus on a making an organized search. The thought of losing her special hammer, such a small yet precious thing, filled her with panic. And she didn’t even know why.
She just knew she had to keep moving.
Just find something else, she told herself. She was resourceful. She could handle things on her own, no matter what came her way.
I’ll fix this.
Aurora went into her bedroom, scanning for anything heavy that she could use as a hammer.
Then she had a brilliant idea. She went to her nightstand.
Ha, perfect.
Out in the living room, Aurora held a drywall anchor to the wall and started tapping it in.
“Oh my god,” Lana said behind her. “Is that…”
Aurora raised the object she’d fetched from her nightstand. “The Incredible Hulk. Remember him? He’s good for all kinds of things around the house.”
Lana started to giggle.
The Hulk was another gift from Lana. The woman knew how to pick a birthday present. It was nine inches long at least, covered in rubbery material, thick and stiff in Aurora’s hand. Not the typical hammer, true, but it would do the job.
“Brings new meaning to the term ‘getting pounded,’” Lana said.
Unfortunately, the Hulk slipped and hammered Aurora’s finger instead. She yelped.
Furious knocking interrupted them. Someone was trying to break down her front door. Lana ran over and checked the video screen.
“It’s your neighbor. Rick.”
Oops. “Well, might as well let him in.” She figured she should apologize for waking the guy on his first night here, even if they didn’t like each other.
Lana opened the door, and he barged in. Aurora’s breath caught. He was wearing nothing but a pair of thin sweatpants. A light dusting of dark hair covered his broad chest and washboard stomach, leading down to his waistband. Veins traced his biceps, his torso carved from lean, ropey muscle.
Aurora opened her mouth, a contrite apology already on her lips.
But then Rick started talking.
“What the hell is going on in here?” He looked around at the mess in the living room. “I thought someone was being attacked. Do you have any idea what time it is?” His eyes widened. “Is that a dildo?”
No way was she going to apologize to this arrogant douche. So what if he was hot? That was irrelevant. He thinks you’re a spoiled brat, she reminded herself.
“We’re just doing a little home improvement in here.” She waved her makeshift hammer at him. “And this isn’t a dildo. He’s my boyfriend, I’ll have you know. The Hulk.”
She’d been hoping to ruffle Rick’s feathers a little, break that irritatingly superior demeanor. But he disappointed her. His face shut down again, going back to his blank expression from earlier. Giving nothing else away.
“And yes,” she added, “I washed him. Just in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Apologies for waking you, Mr. Harrison,” Lana said smoothly. “It’s not usually so noisy around here. Aurora had a really stressful day. I’m sure you’ll cut us some slack?”
“No worries,” he said breezily, as if he hadn’t just barged in here all pissed. “Glad there’s no emergency.”
He had a tattoo on the inside of his forearm, a stylized K. She wondered what it meant but wasn’t about to ask.
He was judging her right now. She knew it.
He was probably used to getting his way, doing multi-million-dollar deals in the boardroom.
Or something else testosterone-heavy, where men swung around their metaphorical dicks.
He probably drove a fast, sickeningly expensive car and was over-compensating for an itty-bitty micro penis.
Except one glance at the resting bulge in his sweatpants, and she could tell he had no insecurities in that department. Maybe he’d be as big as the Hulk when he got hard.
Her panties were getting damp. She had to stop looking at him.
With that thought, she turned around and started hammering again.
“We’ll quiet down,” Lana said, “I promise.”
“I don’t promise!” Aurora took another thwack at the nail, hitting her fingers with green rubber once again in the process. “Ow.”
She looked back at Rick, whose face had wrinkled in disgust. “Please stop doing that. I’m going to get you a real hammer. Wait, okay?”
“Not waiting.” Thwack, thwack, thwack.
Lana groaned. “If I had one single ounce of self-consciousness, this would probably be pretty embarrassing.”