Chapter 8 #2
As the elevator stops with the doors spreading free, my eyes open and I prepare to get out.
Looking down at my feet, I step over the tiniest of gaps, which has attempted to kill me in the past. Excited that I have once again defeated the deathtrap, I look up with pride, knowing my sweet Taco is watching, but it’s too late.
My face collides with the hard wall of a human standing in front of me.
And I jolt back. Struggling to catch my balance, my feet trip over themselves and my eyes become dazed. Who doesn’t love another head injury?
With arms reaching wide, I find the wall on one side to help stabilize my discombobulated body. Blinking rapidly, I shake my head in an effort to clear the fog and regain my focus. Everything hurts, but it only takes a few moments before everything calms and I am able to lay eyes on the assailant.
Starting from the bottom, the shoes. They are black velvet loafers with gold embroidered logos and gold clasps.
Making my way farther up the fucker’s body, who never even tried to help me, might I add, they are wearing black dress pants, perfectly tailored to fit their lean legs, which are accompanied by a slick leather belt and gold buckle. Oh, he’s very matchy-matchy.
A crisp white shirt is perfectly tucked in at the waist. More gold accessories shine off his cuffs.
And his skinny black tie is likely silk.
It’s then my brain tells me that this is all too familiar.
Tilting my head sideways, my eyes rapidly go back to the shoes, then immediately up to his face, and my breath is taken away, and not from his stunning good looks.
Because the man has a jawline for days, dammit.
I can’t fucking believe this. How did he find me? Shit, he’s here to finish the job.
“Parker? Are you okay?” Tac asks, concerned.
My breath hitches. I don’t know. Genuinely. And I don’t want to risk their safety by responding. So instead, I get lost in the deep dark eyes and five-o’clock shadow looking down on me.
“Douche Canoe.”
Tac catches on instantly. “Shit.”
O chimes in next. “Parker. We need to move. The sparrows just called. They think she’s about to leave.”
“Shit,” I hiss in response. My eyes continue to shift back and forth. I don’t have time for this. How do I get out of here unharmed?
“Parker, you can deal with this later. We need you to go,” O reiterates like I didn’t fucking get it the first time.
Between pressed lips, I grumble back in an attempt to not look completely insane. “I know.”
Douche Canoe interrupts. “Walk much? Don’t fucking touch me again.”
I’m sorry, but is he mad at me? The doors were clearly opening, a person, aka me, I am that person, was getting off, and he couldn’t be bothered to move. But I am the asshole for bumping into him? In what world does that make sense?
Also!
Does he not remember me? This is insane right now.
I ignore the arrogant ass, and he takes it as his cue to continue. Joy. How lucky am I?
“There is a separate entrance for food deliveries. Did you get lost?” the pompous asshole asks.
Taken aback, I continue to look deep into his eyes without fear and furrow borrowed. “Excuse me?”
He seriously has no clue. His face remains hard, expressionless, and unamused. Words leave his beautifully hydrated lips. “You aren’t supposed to be down here. It’s residents only.”
This cannot be real. First, he hits me with his car, then gets mad that I dented it, and now this. Why am I not surprised?
Looking over his shoulder, I scan the parking lot and spot the now infamous Douche Canoe. As I take it in, I become disappointed. “Dammit,” I mumble under my breath. It’s a shame I didn’t do further damage to his precious Rolls.
Then, when trying to peer inside the tinted back window, a vague silhouette of a possible person wearing a hat reveals themselves in his passenger seat. He catches me snooping and steps to the side, blocking my view.
“Who’s your friend? Aren’t they coming to say hello?” I pester sarcastically with a smirk on my face. That’s when it occurs to me. I’ve seen that car a dozen times over the past few months. I received notice before it happened. The smirk is short-lived as it now has fallen off my face.
A new resident in the building.
No.
A new resident on my fucking floor.
Absolutely not. This is not happening. It can’t be.
“No!” I shout in realization, unable to stop myself. “No, no, no. You cannot live here!”
His eyes glare, unbothered, as I panic.
His tone shifts as he takes a step forward. “Nosy for a delivery girl, aren’t you?”
He is attempting to intimidate me.
I step up, meeting him and his chiseled lickable jaw in return.
Both of us are glaring. Pumping my chest out and broadening my shoulders, I show this asshat I may be small but I am not one to be pushed around and walked on. I can stay here all day, motherfucker. Neither of us move, although I do catch a glimpse of his fingers twitching.
“PARKER!” O shouts, nearly breaking my eardrum.
“You should tell your friend it gets hot down here. Could make a person pass out if they aren’t careful. It’s not worth the cold shoulder and silent treatment if they are mad at you.” Our eyes don’t budge from one another.
“Mr. Carlisle will stay down here for as long as I please,” he states matter-of-factly. God, who would ever want to be his friend if this is how he treats them?
Shrugging my shoulders, my words are casual and unbothered. “His funeral. Perhaps it’s something the board should be warned of?”
Again, silence returns.
We stay like this for what seems like minutes.
My fingers join his in twitching as I think about Bensen in the back of my mind.
I need to move, but pride is making it incredibly difficult to do so.
Anxiety courses through my body with my heartbeat increasing by the second.
If I don’t move, I will lose her. If I lose her, my team loses. And nobody wants to be a fucking loser.
Shit.
Fine.
It’s not worth it. He is not worth it. But boy do I want to punch him in the face. One would think a bruise could make him even more attractive, if possible. God no, Parker stop.
Reaching out, I place my palm flat on his chest. His body attempts to shrug me off, but I stay attached. Standing on my tiptoes, I lean forward, and whisper, “I’m Parker. Welcome to the building, neighbor.”
I am going to make his life hell. Fuck him. I will make him remember me. He will learn my name and scream it as I make him pay.
Noticing how uncomfortable it’s making him, I pat his chest once more before I step back and follow it up with a little wink in the hopes of further pissing him off.
He doesn’t respond or react. Douche Canoe stays still, thoroughly unmoved by my words.
I step around his tall frame and painfully skip over to my car while reassuring my team.
“Let’s go hunting.”