Stoking the Fire (Salus Security #1) - Teodora Kostova Page 0,28
before I look away.
Tucking my earbuds in my ears, I select a favorite playlist on my phone and let the music silence my thoughts as we keep inching down Park Avenue.
Walking into my studio with Alec right behind me feels like a door opening back in time. I never thought I’d have him back here again, and yet, I couldn’t help fantasizing about it.
Alec scans the large room, peeks in the bathroom and behind the kitchen island, and checks the windows are still securely locked before I’m allowed to start collecting my things. He waits for me, patiently, stoically; like a professional.
A small part of me wants to ruffle his feathers. To shake him and make him lose control. To pull him close and kiss the ever-loving fuck out of him.
I don’t.
I promised I’d behave.
As quickly as I can, I gather some clothes, toiletries, my Kindle, a couple of chargers and my laptop, and throw them into a large duffel bag. Hands on my hips I look around trying to see if I’m forgetting anything, but my mind keeps drifting to other—very different—circumstances when Alec and I were here.
The whole place is soaked with memories of us together, and I didn’t change a thing since he left. I couldn’t. I never brought another guy here, either. Not even Adri.
Not that I have many suitors these days.
“You ready to go?” Alec’s voice cuts through the fog of memories and self-pity swirling in my head.
“Almost.” I make my legs move, grabbing a few more t-shirts from the wardrobe, buying a bit more time.
I wish, with everything that I have, that we are here under different circumstance again.
“Zach.” Alec speaks right behind me.
I didn’t hear him move. And now I’m acutely aware of standing in front of the wardrobe, staring at the door while clutching some t-shirts I don’t even need.
“Yeah.”
I don’t turn. He doesn’t move away.
“Are you okay?” The softness in his voice stabs me harder than a blade.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, turning around.
There’s a crease between his brows as he studies me. His face is inches away from mine, so close that I can smell his cologne.
A wave of nostalgia and longing slams into me, making my breathing hitch. Maybe I’m not as over Alec as I thought.
“We should go,” Alec says, his eyes darkening. He takes a step back, his hands balling into fists.
“Yeah.”
I walk around him, throw the t-shirts in the bag, and zip it. Before I can hoist it over my shoulder, Alec reaches for it and takes it out of my hand.
I don’t protest.
With one last look at the studio, I close the door and lock it, already missing the comfort the place brought me.
I haven’t slept in my old bedroom in nearly three years. Standing in the doorway, I survey the room, hands on my hips. The neutral colors have never bothered me before, but now the décor seems so impersonal, so beige, that I want to turn around and run home. Or to Evie’s room where I’ve spent most of the nights I stayed over.
“What are you doing?” Alec asks. He drops my bag off next to the bed and is staring at me with narrowed eyes.
A sarcastic retort is on the tip of my tongue, but I’m too exhausted to deliver it with enough enthusiasm.
“Nothing,” I say, walking into the room and closing the door. “So how does this work? Are you going to sleep on the floor next to me?” Seems like I’m not that exhausted.
I raise an eyebrow as my lips twitch. Alec’s expression doesn’t change.
“No.” He eyes me coolly. “Felix and I will be sharing the room across the hall.”
I hate the way my stomach twists. “Who the fuck is Felix?”
“Evie’s bodyguard.”
“Ah.” I nod, pursing my lips. “And are you volunteering to share the room or…”
Alec sighs in exasperation. “What are you getting at, Zach?”
“Are you fucking him?” I wince as I blurt out the words. What am I even doing? It isn’t any of my business who Alec is fucking. It’s like seeing Alec again made me relapse into the person I’ve been three years ago.
Alec steps closer, still watching me with cold, narrowed eyes. “What’s it to you?”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Nothing. I couldn’t care less who you fuck.”
Why are we even talking about fucking?
I can’t stop the blood rushing to my face, painting it in hot embarrassment.
I clear my throat. “Anyway.” I give him a pointed look. “I’m tired. I think I’ll head to bed.”