Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
PIPER
Tonight’s event is being held at the Astoria, an invite-only association for the rich and famous, those whose net worth is longer than a person’s zip code.
I’ve only ever heard of it. Getting invited to anything at the Astoria is a dream for someone like me, and the place lives up to the hype attached to its name.
I just can’t bring myself to care tonight.
Like last week, Levi’s driver picked me up and escorted me inside. I’m wearing another beautiful dress, standing beneath another glittering chandelier, but my heart isn’t in any of it.
It’s been nearly a week since I saw Levi, and I already know something between us has changed.
I’m led into the grand hall and immediately spot him talking to a group of people I don’t recognize.
He’s in a charcoal suit tonight, white shirt open at the throat. He looks up almost the second my eyes land on him, like he was already waiting for me to arrive.
He smiles, and hope flickers inside me for one stupid second.
But even from here I can tell the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
When I get closer, the difference becomes impossible to ignore. The spark from last week is gone. Whatever burned between us at the club has cooled into something controlled.
And I can’t blame him.
“Hi,” I say first, almost testing the waters.
“Butterfly.”
He leans in, kisses my cheek, and slides an arm around my waist.
It’s the same arm, but it sits on me differently tonight. Lighter somehow.
I keep my smile glued in place and breathe him in anyway—sandalwood and something unique to him.
Levi turns me toward the people he’s been speaking to and introduces me. They’re a couple in their late sixties. The husband owns an oil company, while his wife runs several charities.
As they talk, I smile in the right places and answer when spoken to, but I feel oddly disconnected from myself. Like I’m performing instead of actually being here.
Levi fills every silence with effortless charm, dropping in small details that make us sound like a real couple instead of two people pretending to be one.
I play along and let him lead the conversation, but the difference between last week and tonight sits heavily between us.
We sound rehearsed.
Last week, none of this felt fake.
But tonight feels less like chemistry and more like performance. As though we’re both reading from the same script. I can hear it, and I worry that others can, too.
Soon, we join Arthur and Ellie Mae, and the night officially begins.
The event is another success, and though we feel different, so are we. There are more pictures, more staged kisses for the cameras, more reporters trying to pry into our relationship.
Thankfully, the hours pass and eventually, the night comes to an end.
Levi and I ride back to the apartment in silence.
Several times, I almost say something, but the words never come.
What scares me most is the thought that this is what we’ll be like for the rest of the arrangement. Worse, I can’t stop thinking this is my fault. Like I ruined something good before it even had the chance.
When we reach my apartment, I get out of the car before anyone can open the door for me.
I just want to get inside and forget tonight, but Levi is at my side before I can say good night and make my escape.
He cuts me a look. “Hey, you know the drill. I’m not letting you walk in that apartment by yourself at this hour.”
“I keep telling you, it’s okay.”
“Yeah. Let’s go.” He walks on ahead, ignoring me.
I follow him because there’s no point arguing.
“I’m gonna be away for a few days,” he says, when we get further ahead. “If you’re out late, I want you to call one of my drivers to pick you up. I’ve told them to walk you to your door.”
I glance at him. He keeps his gaze ahead, but there’s a softness to his expression.
“Levi, you really don’t have to do that.”
“So you keep telling me. And you know what happens, right?” He turns his head and grins faintly.
“You do it anyway.”
“Hmmm-hmmm.”
Our eyes lock for a heartbeat. He looks away first.
“Going anywhere nice?” I risk asking, hoping he’s not going to tell me he’ll be off with some woman. It’s a stupid thought. I have no claim to him. He’s free to see whomever he wishes.
“Just a mindset day-trip, then I’m off to Japan for six days on business. I’ll meet you at Arthur’s beach party when I get back.”
It all sounds interesting, pieces of his world. “Have fun.”
“I’ll try.” He still keeps his gaze ahead. “Any luck with the office?”
“Yeah. There’s a building I really like. It’ll be available in a few weeks, but the owners are interviewing. I may not get it.”
“Have more faith in yourself, Butterfly.” Now he looks at me. It’s brief, but I catch a spark of that light I like lurking in his gaze.
We reach the lobby door. It’s propped open with a brick again.
Great. The doors still aren’t working, so anyone can walk in off the street.
What am I even saying? They already do.
Inside, the strip light over the mailboxes is buzzing. That must be broken, too.
It flickers in that sickly yellow way old fluorescents do, throwing the row of dented metal boxes in and out of shadow.
The hum gets under my skin. I’m suddenly hyperaware of everything—the way my heels echo on the tile, the gritty crunch of something beneath my feet, and the cold trail of air that follows us.
We walk deeper into air perfumed with weed and stale beer. Levi takes it in without a word, but his jaw tightens.
There’s a group of guys by the stairwell passing something between them—drugs. I realized my suspicions were right the other day. One of them laughs at whatever the other one just said, but they go quiet as we approach.
I keep my eyes forward. Levi’s hand finds the small of my back.
We step into the elevator, and up we go.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding when we reach my floor and the elevator door opens. But the moment we step out, I sense that something’s off.
That weed and stale beer smell is here, too.
Most of the people who could be responsible for either live on the lower floors.
The smell gets stronger the closer we get to my door.
Levi notices something before I do and stops walking.
“Piper.”
“What is it?”
He doesn't answer. He's looking down the hall.
I follow his gaze.
My door is at the end of the corridor. From here I can see something dark sprayed across the wood. Spray paint—like the messy walls downstairs.
“Stay behind me,” Levi mutters and starts moving forward again.
I stay behind him.
We move closer, and my stomach drops when I see big, jagged letters painted on my door with a message.
It says:
Suck my cock, beautiful
And that’s not the worst thing.
The door. It’s open.
Not all the way, just enough that a thin line of dark shows between the door and the frame.
An anguished sound escapes me and my lungs squeeze.
I know I absolutely did not leave the door open.
The same asshole who left the message did that. And they’re either still inside my apartment, or want me to think they might be.
Levi steadies me. “Don’t move,” he warns. “Don’t make a sound.”
“But—”
“I’m going in. You stay here.”
He presses forward and I stay, trembling.
God, I knew this place was dangerous, that I was practically buying time, but I never imagined this. I’ve only been living here for a little over two weeks.
My laptop is in there. It’s the most valuable thing I own. I’ve been hiding it under the bed, but someone looking hard enough would find it.
Levi opens the door. It swings inward and he walks in.
Instantly, I worry he may get hurt.
People around these parts carry all sorts of weapons—guns, knives, anything that can kill.
There’s not a whole lot to my apartment, so there isn’t much to check out. Still, I hold my breath.
It comes out of me in a whoosh when Levi walks back outside.
“No one’s in there, but the fuckers made a mess,” he grates out.
He walks back inside, and I follow.
There’s a mess, alright—empty beer cans, cartons of half-finished Chinese food, and just… trash, like a garbage can was emptied out all over the fucking floor.
Then there are my things, tossed everywhere.
I’m so disgusted my stomach churns.
Levi and I do a deep search of the apartment again to see if anything was taken.
My laptop is still there, along with most of my things, but my insides flip when I realize several pairs of panties are missing from my underwear drawer.
The drawer is half-open. My things have been pawed through, lifted, touched. Bile climbs the back of my throat as I picture whatever they must have done and are doing with my underwear.
My heart trembling, I look up at Levi. His jaw is clenched so tightly it looks painful, and one fist is balled hard at his side.
His gaze snaps to mine. “You’re not staying here any longer. Pack a bag. You’re coming with me.”
“But—”
He strides past me, grabs one of the grocery bags, and starts throwing my things into it.
I watch him, too shaken to argue.
He’s right. I can’t stay here.
But can I stay with him?