Chapter Eleven
Sterling pulls into a space in the parking garage, killing the engine.
By the time he rounds the front of his truck, I’m already shoving my door open, hopping out just before he can reach for the handle.
His eyes darken with that familiar, infuriating amusement, like he enjoys watching me misbehave.
“Aren’t ghosts supposed to be faster?” I toss over my shoulder, heading toward the elevator.
A deep chuckle follows me, his boots echoing on the concrete as he falls in line behind me.
The door slides open just as Sterling reaches me.
In the same breath, his hands are on my waist, spinning me and caging me against the cool metal wall.
The impact steals a tiny gasp from my lungs.
“You beg for punishment like pain is the only love you know,” he whispers, his mouth so close his lips brush my ear, sending a violent shiver down my spine.
His grip tightens, not enough to hurt—just enough to remind me how easily he could.
“Maybe pain is the only thing that makes me feel alive.” The elevator doors slide open, a soft chime cutting through the charged air, announcing the top floor.
I slip out from under his arm, stepping around him before he can box me in again.
Instead of leaving, I pivot back to the panel, tapping the parking garage button, then the close button with deliberate, unhurried presses.
“Guess you’ll just have to find out.” I turn to face him as the doors begin to glide shut.
His gaze locks on mine, dark and dangerous, like he’s already planning exactly how he will.
At the last second, I step backward over the threshold.
“Later.” The doors finish closing on the flash of his expression—equal parts fury and fascination— cutting him off and leaving me alone in the quiet hallway.
A smile tugs at my lips as I head for my apartment.
“Tell me everything!” Lila shouts before I can even get fully in the door. She practically launches herself off the couch, blanket flying, eyes wide and feral with gossip-hungry excitement.
Shaking my head, I pad toward the bathroom.
“I’m going to wash the sweat off,” I call over my shoulder.
I shut the door, thumb on the speaker, and Kehlani’s Gangsta pours out, the opening line curls around me like the universe is making a joke at my expense.
How fitting. Stripping down, I crank the water as hot as it will go and step under the spray, letting it beat against my skin.
Barely sliding the shower door closed, the bathroom door burst open.
“Girl, have you ever heard of knocking?” I yelp, one hand flying to the fogged glass as Lila barrels into the steam.
“Yes, but that doesn’t apply to you. Thank you very much.” She plops down onto the toilet seat like it's a front-row chair at the theater, crossing one leg over the other and settling in. “Now fucking spill, woman!”
Curls of steam thicken around us, and I tip my head back into the warmth of the spray, a soft moan escaping. “We just went to the gun range, practiced…and he’s my stalker.” I mash the last part together in a single breath, praying she lets it slide right past her.
“I’m sorry. Did you just say that he is your stalker? Sterling…” She blinks at the shower, her eyebrows climbing high with every word. I can’t tell if she’s amused, horrified, or already mentally rearranging her bookshelves to add a ‘live-action stalker romance’ section with my name on it.
“Um, yeah.” I work the shampoo into my hair a little too aggressively, closing my eyes as the echoes of his mouth on my skin flare back to life.
What kind of dumbass asks someone to hold a gun to his head?
What kind of bigger dumbass agrees? “He also had me hold the gun to his head while he…” I swallow, heat rushing to my face even under the scalding water.
“While he went down on me. And he, um… claimed me.”
“Kiera, I say this with all the love in the world, but you are batshit fucking crazy.” She drags her hand down her face, then rolls her eyes so hard I can hear it.
“Only you would find that hot. And what’s funny is, I warned him you would shoot him.
” She lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Guess I was wrong about that.”
“I’m fucked up. I know this,” I let out a short, humorless laugh as I rinse the last of the shampoo from my hair and work conditioner through the ends. “But there's this…pull between us. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“I’m just glad that you’re okay,” Lila says, softly, all the sharp edges in her tone smoothed out. “No matter how this came about, and that you’re finally letting someone besides me in.” She offers me a small smile, like she’s half proud and half terrified on my behalf.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” I snort, rinsing the conditioner from my hair. “I haven’t let anyone in. It’s just good sex, maybe monogamous sex, but that’s all. I’m not girlfriend material, and you know it.”
“Maybe not to a normal guy, but according to you, Sterling isn’t normal.
” Lila’s voice is light, but the words land heavier than she probably realizes.
She makes sense, and that’s the problem.
I still have plans to carry out. I don’t get the luxury of backing out because the sex is good and the pull between us feels like gravity. My mom deserves her revenge.
Cracking open the glass door, Lila hands me my towel.
“Let’s just see if I make it through this,” I say, half joking as I wrap it around myself and step out.
“Plus, he’s the one my dad hired to find me.
Once that’s out, who knows what will happen.
” I pad to my room, drop the towel, and tug an oversized shirt over my head.
The cotton hits mid-thigh as I sink onto the edge of my bed, the weight of what’s coming settles deep into my core.
Lila drops onto the mattress beside me, hip bumping mine. “You’re going to be fine,” she says, like it's a fact and not a hope. “And he’s obsessed with you. I’m sure if you just talked to him, you guys could find a way out of that.”
“I can’t risk it. What if you’re wrong? Then, I’m dead before I even accomplish what I’ve set in motion.
” I sigh as I throw myself back onto the bed.
When did my life become so complicated? “Are you staying tonight?” I ask, turning my head toward her.
“I’m going to see Mr. Whitley tomorrow. Dad has another gala in a couple of nights that I need flowers for. ”
“Yeah, Mr. Whitley needs to see his favorite adopted granddaughter.” Lila grins as she kicks her legs up onto the bed, curling up under the covers like she owns the place.
I curl up next to her, scoffing, “You wish. We both know that title belongs to me.” For a second, with her nestling in and the room going quiet around us, I can almost believe my life is normal. Closing my eyes, I drift off to sleep.
“When can I go visit Mom’s grave?” Mom’s been gone for six years.
Dad told me it was from an infection; we both know that’s a lie.
He still doesn’t know that I know what really happened.
The files she was killed for still float around in whispers, but my name doesn’t come up with them anymore. I never found out what was in them.
“Not today,” he says. “I have meetings all day, and then I have to go see the Whitleys about the house.” Dad moved us here about two years after Mom died, and I hated it ever since.
The only thing that makes this place bearable is Lila.
We met in my first few months here, and we’ve been inseparable since.
“Can Lila at least come over?” I ask, the words coming out more like a plea than I’d like.
“I don’t know what you see in that wild girl. No manners.” He waves a hand as if Lila were an annoying fly instead of the person who's keeping me sane. “But I guess, if it will keep you off my case today.” Always making sure I’m out of his way, never actually being a parent.
“Thanks, Dad. Promise I’ll stay out of your way.” I bolt down the hall to my room and pull out the brand-new iPhone 6 Plus Dad got me for my birthday, its sleek, untouched screen almost mocking how easily he throws money at me instead of time.
Me: My dad said you could come over, wanna?
Lila: Lemme ask the rents. brB.
Lila: They said yes. CUS!
Me: YAY! CU!
Twenty minutes later, Lila comes barreling into my room like she owns the place. “Did you see Asher at school today? He was totes checking you out!” she squeals, giggling as she launches herself onto my bed and sends my pillows flying.
“He was nottttt!” I toss a pillow at her, face heating.
“Asher would never be interested in me. I’m a grade younger than him.
Plus, he’s always up Ashley’s ass.” I groan, sinking back into my mattress.
I just want someone to actually like me.
Ever since Mom died, it’s felt like I’ve been alone in my own head—well, besides Lila.
“Totally was, you’re just delusional. And Ashley’s a bitch.
She couldn’t pull him if she got implants.
Boobs and the butt kind.” We both burst out laughing.
Lila never fails to drag me out of my own head and back into the stupid, sparkly parts of being a teenager.
We spend the next couple of hours gossiping and painting our nails until her parents show up to drag her home. And just like that, I’m alone again.