Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It’s cold, and the wind from the coffee shop door blows up my skirt.
Fuck. I uncross, then recross my legs, trying to get the warm parts of my thighs to warm up the rest of my icy skin. The shop is cute, with maximalist decor, dark lighting, and a bunch of framed photos and collector’s items all over any spare wall space.
I’m here for an interview.
The stripper job didn’t work out. It couldn’t be because I got black-out drunk and then passed out in their facility. At least, that’s what they told me I did. I’m not convinced I wasn’t drugged because I don’t remember much, but I do remember Axel was there. And I think he brought me home.
I seem to collect men who hate me like it’s a sport. They’re drawn to me like I’m a wounded animal, and they’re fucking starving. I must have been a horrible person in a past life because I seem to have the absolute worst luck.
Just when I was thinking of begging for my job back at the grocery store, I came across an ad in the paper.
The opening is immediate, and the pay is good.
Almost too good to be true. I’m not sure it isn’t a setup because I was told to wait at a specific table in the shop, but I don’t have the money or energy to care all that much.
I’m fucking hungry, and I’m fucking tired.
I’m starting to question if it’s worth it to keep running.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll cut off my ex’s balls before I go back to him, but how long will his death buy me?
Two weeks before the cops come knocking?
My parents have the money, but they hate that I got with a man without marrying him.
Hate, as in, cut me out. Said I was living in sin.
I’ll die before I go begging at their doorstep.
With the past two days of no food in the fridge, that’s looking like a potential. I’m not gonna lie; I swung by the dumpster at the grocery store and picked out some produce that wasn’t half bad. The food waste that goes on there makes me livid. Of course, Axel would run a wasteful business.
The bell on the door tinkles, and I turn, taking in the entrance of the coffee shop.
A huge man steps through the doorway in a jewel-toned blue suit, with hair white as ice, and cheekbones cutting icy shadows on his smooth skin.
Axel fucking Newman strides into the coffee shop.
Only today, he doesn’t have glasses on, and he strides straight to my table.
He’s stalking me. He’s actually stalking me. The realization moves through me like syrup. It takes until he’s standing at the other end of the table for me to click all the pieces together.
I stand up, grabbing my purse. “You just can’t leave me alone, can you?”
Axel squints at me. Then, he steps around the table, getting closer to me and staring at me.
“Fuck off!” My heart is racing now. I try to back up, but I bump into the chairs behind me. Axel’s getting closer and closer, and I’m fucking trapped.
Before I can move, he darts his hand out to grasp my wrist, yanking me closer. His breath puffs over me with the smell of cinnamon. “You?”
I struggle to rip my hand from his grip. He’s fucking strong. “Get away from me! Fuck off!”
Axel doesn’t let go. His grip is firm, but it doesn’t hurt. His eyebrows are twisted in surprise.
The people around us are starting to look. But no one does anything. They just stand there, watching.
“Christ above,” Axel groans, looking at me closer. Then, he lets go of me.
I scramble back, waving at the baristas who are paying no attention. “I’m calling the cops.”
“Do what you want. I won’t work with you.”
I get a table between us, and then his words hit me. He won’t work with me? He won’t work with me? I whirl on him, a sneer on my face.
At that moment, the door opens, and someone else enters the shop. Only, it’s not someone else. It’s also Axel.
Everything stops, and I stare at the man who just walked into the shop. He’s a carbon copy of the one at the table. Only the one who just walked in has glasses and a deep red suit.
What the hell?
The glasses copy spots me, and his face lights up with a grin. “Raven!”
Okay, I’m still drugged from the other night. There’s no way I’m seeing doubles right now.
As the copy gets closer, he glances at the double to his right. Immediately, he frowns. He looks between the copy and me, looking me and my skirt up and down. Then, he turns to face the copy, his face dropping into a sneer. “Brother. What are you doing here?”
The copy without the glasses crosses his arms. “Axel.”
What in the actual hell is going on? I take a step back, grabbing onto the chair behind me. How can I wake up? Surely, there can’t be two of them.
But neither one disappears. There’s some sort of tense standoff between the two of them, both of them standing straight up, their necks stiff.
“Is the Ice King going on a date?” There’s a mocking tone to the newcomer’s voice. “Thought you swore off that.”
“It’s not a date.”
“No?” He motions at me. “Sure looks like it.”
“Not a date. But it would be none of your business if it were.”
Someone gets up from a table nearby and skirts around the Axel without glasses, then avoids the one with glasses. Slowly, I realize that this is real. I’m not drunk. Other people can see both of them.
They’re twins.
Fuck. I’ve been fighting with twins.
“So what is it, then?” Glasses Axel glances at me again. The edges of his eyes are tight, but they soften when he looks at me. “What are you doing here, little bird?”
“I’m doing what you said.” The other one ignores his question to me, throwing his hand in my direction. “Getting a PA.”
There’s a tense silence where they look like bulls standing off with each other.
God, they’re fighting over my job application? Which one is Axel? No. I need to get out of here.
I inch toward the bathrooms. Maybe if I stay in there long enough, I can sneak out. Sneak out and leave this town for good.
My foot gets caught on the edge of a chair, and I trip. I catch myself with a clatter, turning around to face them.
Both men are looking at me. “Where are you going?” the one without glasses asks.
Now, I really do need to go to the bathroom because I think I might hurl.
My first instinct is to cower, but I straighten and force myself to think.
There are other people here. Neither of them can truly hurt me.
“Going to the bathroom, not that it’s any of your business.
” When neither of them responds, I feel my anger rise. “Who the hell are you?”
“Axel,” Glasses says slowly, like I’m stupid. Then, he grins, motioning at the one without glasses. “Gage.”
I stare stupidly.
“Badass.” Glasses—the real Axel—wiggles his eyebrows. “Breaking a lawyer’s glasses.”
Oh shit. Oh shit? I look at the one Axel called Gage. He just glares at me.
He’s a lawyer? Of course, he is. That’s the position I’m interviewing for—a lawyer’s office. My heart starts racing.
I’m fucked. This is so bad. I can’t pay for those glasses.
Gage just glares at me. “Go to the bathroom, then meet me back here. We have to talk about the terms of your employment.” He pulls the chair out and then sits down.
My mouth drops open. He wants to… continue the interview? After all this? Oh fuck no. He probably just wants to fucking sue me, and this is how he’ll get my information.
But before I can say anything, Axel frowns, turning to his brother. “She can’t work for you.”
“And why the hell not?” Gage glares at him.
“Because she’s—she can’t.”
“I need help since you won’t give me those glasses.”
Axel’s face is getting red. “You know damn well I need them.”
“Then stop throwing a hissy fit.”
Axel looks like he’s going to say something, but then he stops. His hand clenches into a fist, and he laughs. “You know what? Fine. Fuck this one, too, for all I care.”
Then he turns on his heel and stalks out.
The red creeps up Gage’s neck, but he just sits in the chair, waiting.
I could walk out. I could leave right now. Maybe move towns. Surely, there will be better options somewhere else.
But then my stomach grumbles. I haven’t eaten at all today. I have one more half-rotten apple, and I don’t have anything in my account. The rent is due, and I’m fucking hungry.
Gage speaks, “You owe me. Let’s talk.”
Oh, this asshole. Just as dickish as his brother.
I stand up tall, straightening out my blazer. I won’t let another Newman take advantage of me. I’m here to get his money and get out.
I march up to the table, slamming my purse down. “I want an advance.”