Chapter Seven
Two steps forward, three steps back.
That was the absolute, exhausting reality of living with Mitchell Bear Roberts. Just when I thought the ice was finally melting between us, the floorboards would shift. Last night, I had spent an hour pouring my heart into making us a nice dinner, only for him to completely ignore the plates and walk right past them. In a fit of pure, blind frustration, I had scraped his portion into a bowl and hurled it directly at his closed bedroom door.
Predictably, he had proceeded to get even more furious with me. And now? Now I was right back to square one, receiving nothing but sharp scoffs and low, miserable grunts.
Yay me.
I drop heavily into the lecture hall seat beside Stacey, aggressively yanking my heavy textbooks out of my bag. “I officially cannot be with another guy now,” I declare, tossing my notebook onto the desk. “It’s impossible.”
Stacey didn’t even look up from her phone, her thumb scrolling mindlessly. “Still got it bad for Bear?”
“Yes,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “And to make things a million times worse, I saw him entirely shirtless the other night.”
“Nice?”
“Not just nice, Stacey,” I whine, lifting my head to look at her. “I was in literal heaven. The man looks like he was sculpted by Michelangelo.”
“Just fuck him already and get it over with,” Stacey mumbles carelessly.
I let out a dry, frustrated chuckle. “I wish. The second I even try to touch him, he completely freaks out, locks down, and walks away. Trust me, that is not happening anytime soon.”
“Well, maybe you just need to clear your head and go out this weekend,” Stacey suggests, finally locking her phone. “You and Liv should hit the clubs.”
I frown. “Why not you? Why aren’t you coming?”
Stacey’s cheeks flush a sudden, faint shade of pink, and she looks away. “I’m going out with Henry.”
My jaw drops. I practically screech right there in the quiet lecture hall. “The waiter?!”
“Yes,” she mutters, a small, helpless smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Oh my god, Stace! I am so incredibly happy for you!” I beam, nudging her shoulder.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, trying to play it cool. “But it’s only our second date, so I’m trying really hard not to get my hopes up.”
“Oh, please. One more date and—”
Before I could finish, my phone began violently vibrating on the desk. I scramble to grab it, expecting another call from Jason on his third new number, but relaxed when I saw the caller ID.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, answering the call and leaning back in my seat.
“Hey, Daniella,” his deep voice resonates through the speaker. “Did I catch you at a bad time, sweetie?”
“No, my professor isn’t even here yet. What’s up?”
“Oh, I was just wondering if you’d received the invitation to your aunt’s wedding yet,” Dad says. “Surprisingly enough, she actually sent me one.”
A genuine laugh escapes me. “It is a bit wild, considering she’s the sister of your ex-fling. But yeah, I got the invitation in the mail yesterday.”
“Are you planning on going?”
My smile fades slightly, replaced by a heavy weight. “Maybe. But Mom and Jason are definitely going to be there.”
Dad sighs heavily on the other end. “It’s entirely up to you, sweetie. Don’t force yourself into a room with them if you aren’t ready.”
“I know,” I murmur. Desperate to change the subject to something—anything—else, I blurt out, “Oh, by the way, I finally found out Bear’s real name.”
“Oh yeah? It’s not actually Bear?” Dad asks, sounding mildly amused.
“No, it’s Mitchell,” I answer, a slight smile returning to my face. “Mitchell Bear Roberts.”
The line went completely dead. The ambient noise of the lecture hall swirled around me, but on the other end of the phone, there was nothing but a chilling, suffocating silence.
“Dad?” I question, my brow furrowing. “Are you there?”
“Daniella,” Dad says, his voice dropping into a dangerously sharp, professional octave. “Mitchell Bear Roberts is an ex-convict. He served time in a state penitentiary for grand theft auto.”
A nervous, breathless laugh tore from my throat. “That’s not funny, Dad. Good joke, though.”
“I am not kidding, Daniella,” Dad deadpans, his absolute seriousness cutting through the line like a knife. “He was released on parole just last year.”
The air left my lungs in a sharp gasp. My grip tightens on the phone until my knuckles turned white. “How... how long was his sentence?” I whisper, keeping my voice as low as possible so Stacey wouldn’t hear.
“Five years,” Dad states flatly. “He only served three before getting out early on good behavior.”
“Oh my god,” I breathe, the room suddenly feeling violently tilted. The tatted-up guy who made me chicken risotto and watched cartoons on Saturday mornings was a convicted felon.
“Danny, do you want me to come down there?” Dad asks, his protective, cop instincts violently flaring. “I can be there by tonight.”
“No,” I manage to say, swallowing the lump of panic in my throat. “No, I’ll be alright. Honestly.”
“Keep your guard up and be careful, okay?”
“I will,” I murmur, staring blankly at my notebook. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, sweetie.”
I hang up the phone, my mind spinning at a thousand miles an hour. I look over to see Stacey smirking at me, having clearly caught the tail end of the conversation.
“So, his real name is Mitchell, huh?” she teases, wagging her eyebrows. “Hot, right?”
“Very,” I murmur, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears.
Stacey turns back to her phone. “But honestly, Bear is still way hotter.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, the word tasting like ash. “True.”
----
The second I unlock the door to apartment 4F, the lingering anxiety mutates into a wave of pure, hot fury. I march into the living room, slamming the front door behind me, and glared daggers at Bear. He was sitting on the couch, completely unbothered, watching television.
“You’re an ex-criminal?!” I scream, the words exploding out of me.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. His face remains entirely, infuriatingly calm as he slowly turns his head to look at me. “Yes.”
“Yes?!” I snap, storming over to the couch and violently crossing my arms over my chest. “That is the kind of massive, life-altering detail you’re supposed to mention to someone before they move into your apartment, Bear!”
He slowly stands up, his massive, imposing frame towering over me. I involuntarily gulp, my heart hammering against my ribs, but I refuse to back down. His expression remains a terrifyingly blank canvas.
“Would you have moved in if I told you?” he asks, his voice dropping into a dangerously cold, level tone.
“Of course I would have!” I growl, glaring up at him. “I’m not that shallow!”
He let out a sharp, bitter scoff, turning his gaze away. “Right.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demand, a sharp sting of hurt cutting through my anger. Did he really think so little of me? Did he genuinely believe I was that superficial?
Bear whips his head back toward me, his emerald eyes flashing with a sudden, dangerous intensity. “If I had told you on day one that I had just spent three years in a prison cell, you would have turned around and run straight out that door,” he hisses, stepping closer.
“Not if you had just told me the truth! Not if you told me, it was only for stealing cars!” I shoot back, matching his volume.
“And assaulting an officer,” he adds.
My breath catches in my throat. “You did?!”
“In prison,” he clarifies coldly.
Oh god. A traitorous, electric thrill shot straight down my spine. Against every logical cell in my brain, that sounded entirely, devastatingly hot.
“I—I found out from my dad,” I blurt out, trying to regain my footing in the argument. “He’s a captain at the NYPD.”
Bear’s jaw clenches so hard I hear the bone click. “So, you ran my name through the system, didn’t you?” he questions, his voice dropping an octave as he takes another predatory step toward me.
Instinctively, I began walking backward, my flats scuffing against the floorboards as he kept advancing. Before I could pivot, my shoulder blades hit the solid wood of the front door. I was completely trapped.
“No!” I answer, my voice trembling slightly. “I just mentioned your name to him, and he recognized you immediately.”
I physically flinch as his large, tattooed hand suddenly shot out, slamming violently against the wood of the door right next to my head. The force of the impact rattled the frame. He leans in close, his scent of woodsmoke and laundry detergent completely enveloping me.
“I guess I was just too big of a case to forget,” he whispers savagely, his emerald eyes boring straight into mine.
My breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. “S-stop trying to scare me,” I whisper, refusing to lower my gaze.
Bear stares at me for a beat, his chest heaving, before his expression hardened. “If I’m being so scary, then just leave,” he snaps, his voice tight.
A wild, stubborn fury flared to life inside me. I glare right back at him, leaning forward until our faces were inches apart. “I didn’t say I was scared!” I scream right into his face. “I said stop trying to scare me, because I am not LEAVING!”
For a fraction of a second, Bear froze. Then, a slow, dark smirk spread across his lips—a look of pure, unadulterated amusement.
Without another word, he pulls his hand off the door, turns on his heel, and marches straight down the hallway into his bedroom. The door slams shut with a deafening bang that shook the entire apartment.
I stand frozen against the front door, my heart violently thumping against my ribs, a dizzying mix of adrenaline and confusion swirling through my veins.
What the actual hell was that?