Chapter 18 #2
And this time, I didn’t know if Creed would be able to save me from it.
* * *
I RETURNED TO WORK on Monday determined to create normalcy—or at least the illusion of it. My heels echoed down the sleek marble floors of the building, the steady rhythm of each step a lifeline I clung to.
Professional. Composed. Untouched.
That’s what I told myself as I stepped into my office. That’s what I had to be.
Creed was back.
I felt him before I saw him—the shift in the air, the subtle charge of his presence. It was like my body had memorized his energy, my skin tuning itself to his frequency without my permission.
I’d made it clear. We were done. But that didn’t stop him from being in my face every day—meetings, hallway run-ins, shared glances across crowded conference rooms. He didn’t push.
He didn’t speak. But his presence pressed in on me, reminding me of every stolen breath, every sleepless night, every way he’d left me bleeding.
And the worst part?
I still wanted him.
My heart betrayed me every time he walked into a room. Every time his eyes darkened when he saw me talking to someone else. Every time his mouth twitched into that dangerous half-smile.
But I wasn’t giving in. Not this time.
I rubbed the back of my neck, tension coiling beneath my skin. But it wasn’t just Creed that had me off balance.
The weight of the money—the account—pressed on my chest like a steel beam.
Days had passed with no anonymous calls, no shadowy figures trailing me.
But the silence didn’t reassure me. It made it worse.
Someone was waiting.
I shook off the thought when Celine’s voice pulled me from my spiral.
“Peyton?”
I blinked and turned toward her. She was standing at my desk, holding a tablet, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the edge.
“Sorry,” I murmured, sitting straighter. “Did you say something?”
Celine perched on the edge of the desk, her brows lifting. “You okay?”
“Fine.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she let it slide. “The accountant called again. We need to get W-2s out before the end of the month.”
I drew a weary sigh. “Yes, I forgot about that.”
“I don’t mind handling it for you. The computer is still at the agency, right?” I nodded. “Then I can go over there first thing in the morning. All I need is the login information, and I can take care of it for you.”
“Yes, of course. What would I do without you?”
“I hope you never find out,” Celine said with a grin.
“I’ll text you the login information,” I told her.
She nodded and seemed pleased that she could help me. “I was also going over your schedule for the week.”
I reached for my coffee, needing the caffeine more than ever. “Anything important I’m not aware of?”
“You have the donor’s gala at the Mayson Art Gallery Friday night. Formal event.”
I stilled.
Shit.
The gala. The one I was supposed to attend with Creed.
My chest tightened painfully, my knuckles whitening around the mug.
“Are you still planning to attend?”
Creed’s face flashed in my mind—his hand resting at my lower back, his mouth brushing against my ear as he murmured something inappropriate. The way he’d pulled me into a dark corner after too much champagne and kissed me like he owned me.
Heat crawled beneath my skin. I hated that I was still affected by the feel of his hands, the taste of his mouth.
“Peyton?” Celine prompted.
I forced a smile. “Yes, I’m planning to attend.”
Her brow lifted. “Are you attending with Mr. Kirkland?”
Creed was probably expecting me to skip the event. Or worse—show up alone.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“No, I’ll invite my sister.”
Celine’s eyes widened curiously. “Olivia?”
“Yes. I think she’ll appreciate it as much as I will,” I said smoothly. “My sister loves any excuse to get dressed up.”
And I needed the distraction. I needed to keep moving, keep acting normal even if it felt like my world was balancing on the edge of a blade.
Celine hesitated. “Are you sure you’re not attending with Mr. Kirkland?”
Sitting at home, licking my wounds while Creed walked through the world untouched and unmoved? Hell no.
“I’m sure.”
“Okay,” Celine said slowly. “I’ll let his assistant know and confirm the RSVP.”
She gave me a wary look before walking away.
Celine probably thought I was making a mistake ending things with Creed. But I was sick and tired of being sick and tired waiting for him to decide if I mattered enough to keep.
The door closed softly behind her, and I leaned back in my chair, my gaze fixed on the skyline beyond the glass walls of my office. My pulse hammered beneath my skin.
Creed had no right to affect me like this anymore.
And yet...
My cell phone vibrated on the desk. I reached for it automatically, heart leaping into my throat.
Unknown number.
It stopped after two rings.
My fingers hovered over the screen. Then it lit up again.
Unknown number.
I didn’t pick up. I stared at the phone until it went dark.
My skin prickled with the awareness that someone, somewhere, was waiting. Watching.
Creed was a distraction.
But the real threat hadn’t shown its face yet.