17. Chloe
Tuesday
After loading my groceries into the trunk of my Cherokee, I get the shock of my life. Because when I slam the trunk, I realize my SUV is nose-to-nose with Derek’s swanky Mercedes SUV. And he’s in the driver’s seat, eyes pointed at me.
I’m frozen in place for a beat when he crooks his finger.
I don’t think so.
By the time I’m opening my door, he’s coming this way, a tall drink of water in his leather jacket, dark jeans, and boots. I quickly get in and lock all the doors.
He raps on my window with his knuckle.
I shake my head and start it up.
He pulls sunglasses off his face and gives me what I think is a stern look as he knocks a little louder.
“Unlock the door and let me in, baby,” he orders, then he rounds the hood and goes to the passenger door and pulls on the door handle. It resists as I’ve already locked it.
I take this opportunity to put it into reverse and back out.
He’s staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face as I swing out of there.
I’m practically vibrating with anger as I take the short, four-minute trip home.
When I pull into my driveway, I see Adam has already gone, which isn’t surprising; he told me he’s going out to meet some friends at a sports bar for wings and to watch a game. He’s pretty stoked about his new wheels and newfound independence after selling his car six months ago to Lawrence, our old neighbor.
I’m still shaky as I unload the groceries.
“Chloe,” I hear and startled, I drop a bag, sending vegetables and fruit tumbling onto the driveway.
Derek squats and begins picking things up. His SUV is parked directly behind mine, still running.
“You can’t be here,” I whisper-hiss.
“You didn’t give me a choice,” he says, filling my reusable grocery bag with the food. “That wasn’t very nice, little bunny.”
He flashes a little grin and eyes me from head to toes. I’m in jeans and a light sweater. Nothing fancy. I don’t even have make-up on. But he’s looking at me like I’m dressed for a night out or something.
I don’t return the smile. “This isn’t funny.”
“I wanna talk,” he says.
“I don’t,” I return.
He scratches his jaw thoughtfully as I pull the other bags out of the trunk, move aside and hit the button to shut the hatch.
“I’ll rephrase then. I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”
“No way can you come into this house. Are you crazy?” I huff, then add, “I have nothing to say to you.”
“But, I have things to say to you.”
“I don’t need to hear what you have to say.”
“You do,” he counters. “Am I helping you bring these in so we can talk? Or would you rather meet me at my place?”
“Neither,” I snap.
He leans forward. “Refusing me is not wise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Chloe, I want to talk,” he says searching my face.
“Go fuck yourself,” I snap and storm toward the house with grocery bags dangling from each hand.
He halts me by catching my wrist. “Chloe,” he warns.
His grip isn’t painful, but it is tight.
Our eyes meet.
“My fiancé is in there,” I hiss.
“He’s not,” he corrects. “He’ll be out until at least midnight. That gives us five and a half hours.”
I’m now frozen in place.
“Take your groceries inside and drive to my apartment. See you in twenty minutes. It’s important.”
I frown. “Important?”
“Yes,” he says simply. “And don’t lie to me again, baby.”
“Don’t baby me, Derek. I told you I don’t want to see you again.”
“Come over. Don’t call anyone first.”
“Why can’t I call anyone?” I ask. “I think we both know you’ve done some pretty shady stuff to get me where you wanted me the other night, so that comment sends up a major red flag.”
His expression softens. “We need to clear the air. I promise, you want to hear what I have to say to you.”
“I don’t think so,” I say simply.
He stares at me for a moment, saying nothing, so I try to pull my arm out of his grip. He doesn’t let go. Instead, he pulls me in so he can get his mouth to my ear.
“I didn’t want to play it like this, but you’re not leaving me a lot of choices.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but all my senses are suddenly about to hit fight or flight mode.
“Meet me at my place in twenty minutes. If you don’t, I’ll have to come back.”
My jaw drops as he delivers the threat.
“I’ll come back when he gets home,” he adds, releasing me.
His eyes coast over my face, over my entire body. His top teeth skim his lower lip before he whispers, “Twenty minutes, Chloe. Don’t make me wait longer than that.”
He relieves me of all the groceries, carrying them to my front step before turning around, giving me a look loaded with… I don’t know… something that feels sexual… before he walks to his SUV and leaves.
The lady across the street is watching from her front window.
I don’t know most of the neighbors yet, but I’m sure most of them certainly know who we are having seen us come and go with Adam’s wheelchair.
I manage to pry my feet from where they’re glued on the driveway and press my entry code into the smart lock before I hurry inside with my bags. I lock the door before I lean back against it, body shaking, heart hammering against the wall of my chest like it’s about to take flight.
Am I overreacting? Does he just want to talk? No. What could he possibly want to talk about that would have him threatening to come back here when Adam gets home?
My phone dings so I pull it out of my bag. It’s a number I don’t recognize.
20 minutes, Chloe. I won’t harm you. Use your thumb to get into the building. The condo will be unlocked too so come right in. I’m waiting.
My thumb will get me in? What?
I quickly call Alannah.
She answers on the second ring. “Hey, girlie.”
“He showed up here,” I whisper.
“Derek Steele?” she asks. “No way!”
“He wants me to meet him at his place in twenty minutes or he’s threatened to come back here when Adam’s home later. He swears he won’t harm me but why would he threaten me?”
“Oh shit!”
“What have you found out?”
“Not a lot. That family is very guarded. Nefarious reputations, some of them. Three of his brothers, but one in particular. Thaddeus Steele. He got shot to death not long ago and that made the papers, but… then nothing about who did it or why. I’m coming up without much so I’m gonna ask Jeffy to help. He has some investigators that help him with some of his cases and he seems to know everyone in this city.”
“No. Don’t! Don’t involve Jeffrey.”
“Don’t worry about how I gather information, I’m careful. What are you doing about tonight?”
“He told me not to even tell anyone. I’m calling you to ask you what to do. I’m flipped out and I can hardly think.”
“What if you go over there, leave your phone on record in your pocket, and record everything that he says to you. Bring that bear spray we got for that camping trip last summer. You still have it?”
“Yeah.”
“Bring it and if he pulls anything, use it. Don’t turn your back on him. Stay in the hall if you can, if not, stay close to the door.”
“Do you think he’s dangerous?”
“What’s your gut tell you?”
“My gut tells me he’s probably going to try to convince me to have sex with him again.”
“Tell him when you get there that you’ve notified people of your whereabouts.”
“Good idea.”
“Bear spray,” she says. “Call me afterwards. Chloe, if it’s actually harmless and he just wants more…”
“That’s breaking the rule.”
“Girl, it was 44 thousand and sixty-nine out of ten. Maybe he just wants to keep fucking. Maybe he’s just… quirky about investigating women he wants to fuck. Rich guys have the means, so it’s not such a big deal to them. The toast and jam thing – maybe it’s not that bad if he just investigates women he fucks beforehand. Maybe he just wants to explain himself. Would it be the end of the world if you broke one teensy little rule in order to get one more kick at that kinky can?”
I roll my eyes.
“Be careful, but trust your gut. You’re smart. Savvy. Hear him out, maybe, but don’t be a doormat though. Follow my advice and stay safe. Let me know what happens.”
“He threatened to come back here when Adam is home, Lan. What are you even talking about right now?”
The phone goes quiet for a moment.
“You’re right. You’re right. I think I just wanted this to be a fairytale, not a Dateline special.”
“Who are you?” I ask.
“You’re right. Sorry. Do you want me to come with you?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Shit. I don’t know if I can get out of this meeting. It should be a quick one. Can you wait an hour?”
“You know what, I’ll do this. Figure out what he wants and make sure he knows I’m not some pushover. I’ll keep you posted.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Tell him if you don’t report to someone within fifteen minutes of arriving, they’ll call the cops. When you message or call me, if you say you’re totally fine I’ll know you’re not and to send help. Say the word totally in a text or a phone call and I’ll know things are not cool and you need me to call the police.”
“Okay. You’ll hear from me in half an hour, forty minutes tops.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
After shoving the ice cream I bought into the freezer along with the chicken breasts and ground beef I purchased into the fridge, I decide everything else can wait until I get home. I dig through the closet in my office where we’ve stowed our camping gear and find the bear spray.
But surely, he’s not a psycho, right? He’s a businessman from one of the most prominent families in the state. This has got to be a misunderstanding. I’ll remind him I want nothing to do with him, let him apologize if that’s all he wants to do, and then walk away.