It had been so bad I’d scuttled closer to Vincent, relaxing only when he’d slung an arm around me and pulled me closer into the heat and protection of his body.
“Please tell me you’ve at least started!”
“Calm down, Vern, I have two pieces ready and three months to finish the rest. Have I ever let you down?”
My ear echoes sharply with his heavy sighs and rantings, and it takes a supreme force of will and outright stubborn patience not to tell the man to freak off and go get a clue.
Seriously, had I ever really wished to be a success? It’s turned out to be more a pain in my ass than scrounging for every penny. ‘Be careful what you wish for’ has become the catchphrase of my life.
First I’d wanted success, something I’ve started to loathe more and more with each passing day, and then I’d wished for Vincent to love me. Well, he doesn’t love me, but he does feel something, and it turns out when Vincent Blake feels something—even possessiveness—it means he’s as stubborn as a mule.
When Vern finally lets me go, I do something I’ve been holding off for days and dial my lawyer, deciding once and for all to stop being a ninny and just get things done.
Then I quietly pack a few things, grab my latest canvases, and do what I need to.
“Where to, miss?”
I look back at the house for a minute, feeling a lump clog my constricted throat before turning back to the cabbie with a resolute set to my lips and giving him the address of the apartment Parker is renting to me.
It’s small for a place of its price, but in the middle of Manhattan, and close enough to all my old haunts that I can’t help but feel welcome when the doorman takes me up and places my things just inside the door.
“Mr Parker said you’re having some trouble with a stalker. No worries, ma’am, the other doormen have been informed and we have an excellent security system. This here’s the panic button, and there are three more, one in the kitchen, bedroom, and living room. The fire escapes also can’t be accessed without our alarms being tripped, and the elevator can’t be used without one of us seeing.”
“Thank you so much, that makes me feel a lot better,” I murmur, releasing the tension in my shoulders enough to take a deep breath.
“You’re most welcome, ma’am. This intercom patches directly to the main desk, so if you need anything or you’re feeling antsy, just call and one of us will come on up. Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s the key for your place next door.”
“What…what are you talking about?” I stutter, taking the single, ribbon-wrapped key with shaking hands.
“Mr Parker owns the unit next to this one. He said you’d need a place to work and he didn’t want you inhaling fumes or something.”
It takes me ten minutes to unpack before curiosity grips me in an unshakable hold and I dash next door, opening the door with a giggle and the stirrings of the first mirth I’ve felt in days.
The place is bare but for an empty easel, a few art supplies, and a note that urges me to paint his next investment. When I get back to the apartment, still shaking my head at the lengths to which Parker has gone to ensure my safety and happiness, it’s to find my phone blowing up with calls and messages.
Seems the big bad wolf has finally noticed that I’m gone, and you know what? That makes me smile more than anything else.
I’m not hiding anymore, but I’ll be goddamned if I’ll allow Vincent Blake to win this war. A war I’m fighting for my heart. Or what’s left of it.
“Hello.”
“Where the bloody hell are you?”
I pull the phone away from my blistered ear and meander to the refrigerator, looking for something to suit my mood. Parker, knowing me so well, has left a six pack of beer and a chocolate cake that’s worth its weight in gold.
“I’m at home in my new apartment.”
Short and sweet, Cecelia. Do not get into a war of words with the man; you know he always wins.
“Your home is here with me,” he barks, killing my smile. “Have you forgotten Brennan is still loose in the city?”
As if. I’d already bought a can of pepper spray, a tiny thing with one dose that’s small enough to carry around in my pocket and go undetected, or to hide under my pillow.
“Nope. Don’t worry, Vin.” I restrain a giggle because I know how much he hates me shortening his name. “The building has top notch security, and I’ve called a security agency to arrange a bodyguard to shadow me from a distance. Also, my lawyer will be in touch soon to hammer out the divorce.”
His breath hitches, the sound so muted I almost miss it. Someone’s obviously not on board with this, but at the moment I could give a damn. I’d warned him about this, and despite the way my chest hurts just thinking about never being with him again, I’m completely decided on this course of action.