Why bother? Ever since Tommy Mathers came into her life, she quickly learned she didn’t have one to call her own anymore.
The phone number she’d had since she was a teen wasn’t the only thing she’d been forced to give up. After the security at her last two homes proved to be child’s play for Tommy, finding an apartment that was nondescript but difficult to sneak into was her only requirement when she was forced to move once again.
Three places in seven months was crazy. Then again, she discovered, so was Tommy.
And if he didn’t take the hint and finally give up? Grace would be certifiable before long, too.
Even though it meant walking close to half a mile every time she left her apartment, she always parked in the farthest lot behind the row of apartment complexes. Her car was registered under a former neighbor’s name—one of the only people she knew who understood that being stalked by Thomas Mathers wasn’t flattering, but terrifying—and it was a different make and model from the car she kept at her parents’ when she first met Tommy. After what he did when he found that one, Grace wasn’t taking chances on this car. It was the only escape she had if she had to pack up and flee into the night with little warning.
It wasn’t as if she could rely on anyone else for help. Not now. Not in the beginning, either, really.
Her parents thought she was being stubborn. Before she realized what a true threat he was, Tommy convinced her to take him home to meet her mom and dad. They fell for his devoted act hook, line, and sinker. The way he doted on her, the way he absolutely oozed charm, the way he vowed he would marry their daughter and she’d want for nothing for the rest of her life.
It was only their third date. Talking about wedding plans with her parents should’ve been a huge warning sign. Unfortunately, Grace continued to see him for another three months before she decided to get out.
That was more than seven months ago. He’d been chasing her ever since.
The dancers in her old company thought she was ridiculous. Any one of the females—and half of the male dancers—would give their left foot if it meant they caught the eye of Thomas Mathers, billionaire businessman.
None of them understood. The innocent, honest businessman facade was the biggest act of all.
A pang tore through her as she popped the trunk and started to gather up her groceries. With the success of her dance company, staying one of the principal dancers made it too easy for Tommy to find her. He bought a box at each show, leaving tokens for her in her dressing room, even waiting with Boone at the stage door every night, no matter if the company was touring on the road or stationed in the city.
Tommy always knew where she was, no matter what.
At first, Grace thought it was amazing how his devotion to her extended to supporting her in her career. Before Tommy, she barely went on any dates, even resorting to using an online dating site to meet guys because her training left her with so little free time. She never thought she’d find a man who understood her love of ballet.
Turned out, she didn’t. Tommy didn’t show up at all of her performances because he was a ballet aficionado. He showed up because he was the type of man who wanted to control every aspect of her life, including her work.
So she gave that up, too. She had no choice otherwise. Her fellow dancers were on Tommy’s side, and with her name getting top billing as a principal dancer, it was only too easy for him to track her down and try—again—to win her back to his side.
Tommy Mathers had charm, he had looks, and he had money. He was also intelligent in a way that scared her to her bones. He knew what to say and how to say it, acting remorseful in one moment and demanding in the next.
The first time she tried to break it off, he bought her a diamond necklace and begged her to give him one more try. She fell for it, and found herself locked in the bedroom of his penthouse apartment after she gave in and spent the night.
Tommy was gone—with her tucked safely in his home, he left to take care of business—and he had two goons guarding the door in case she tried to run. Which she absolutely attempted the minute she accepted that, despite his promises, he was never going to change.
It took three days, as well as giving the damn diamond to a housekeeper in exchange for helping her escape, before Grace realized that if she wanted Tommy to leave her alone, she was going to have to make him. Trapping her in his apartment was the last straw. She finally understood that his so-called love was nothing but an unhealthy obsession with her and this crackpot idea that she was destined to marry him.
Taking nothing but a suitcase of clothes—and stopping only long enough to clean out her savings account—Grace took off running. She was sure, once she was out of his reach, Tommy would let her go.
She was wrong.
So wrong.
He’ll never stop.
Her shoulders hunched under the weight of her certainty. She moved—twice. Tommy always found her, even after she registered for the address confidentiality program. He had Boone disable her old car, slicing three tires and removing the engine so that she couldn’t leave town the last time they met. She abandoned it, buying a used car with her dwindling savings, and started parking away from her new place, in case he was watching.
It didn’t matter that her new number was unlisted, or that it was blocked from appearing on other statements the rare times she called home. The speed with which Tommy always got it again made her give up on getting it changed. What was the point? He didn’t need her mother to pass it along, though Grace was certain she had on more than one occasion. His genius when it came to computers and the way he thought laws only applied to other people meant that it didn’t take him much effort to find it on his own.
The only way she could fight back was with the little things. So she deadbolted her apartment, she made sure she lived on the sixth floor, and she always parked in a well-lit area that was far enough from her home that she could only hope he couldn’t find her.
Again.
She was forever aware of her surroundings, too. Even as she carried all of her shopping bags at once so that she didn’t have to risk a second trip to the car, Grace’s eyes were darting around. She’d learned to trust her gut, no matter what. If she felt like she was being watched, it usually meant somebody was watching.
It was a Saturday evening, still early enough that the sun was out. The parking lot was more empty than not, a handful of cars scattered around the space. She weaved around them, searching for the sleek, shiny black finish of Tommy’s luxury Jaguar. As ostentatious as it was expensive, she’d never seen him drive around in any other car. If he was close by, she would spot him first.
Considering the speed of the car, the head’s up would never be enough of a warning, but she refused to think like that. Her caution and her care had kept her one step ahead of Tommy Mathers for seven months now.
At the last lot, Grace held her breath and turned the corner. She exhaled in relief when no one was waiting for her. Hefting her bags high, she stepped up on the curb and turned toward the front of the apartments.
Strawberry Village was made up of eighteen different apartment buildings. Each structure was eight floors high, with three apartments on each floor. She lived in the last building, on the sixth floor. In order to get inside, a tenant needed a passcode to enter the front door to each individual building, use the same passcode to operate the elevator (or take the stairs), and then use a key to open a specific apartment. That first step was what had her taking the two-room apartment. It would make it that much harder for Tommy to find his way in.
Her nerves were already stretched thin. It had been more than four days since he last messaged her and she was too used to his volatile mood swings to hope that he’d finally given up on her. Usually, when Tommy went silent, it was because he was focused on another one of his plans.
Glancing behind her, assuring herself that he wasn’t lurking just out of her sight, Grace fervently wished that, whatever was occupying Tommy, it had no
thing to do with her.
“Grace!”
Her head whipped around at the sound of her name. She was already poised to flee and only just stopped herself when she saw one of her neighbors waiting inside the small vestibule that led into their apartment complex. A welcoming smile on her lovely face, Tessa De Angelis held the door open for her.
De Angelis. Grace knew enough Italian to guess that meant “of angels”. Even though it was the woman’s married name, she thought it suited her. Tessa was petite and kind, with a set of innocent eyes that seemed more golden than hazel. She perpetually wore an inviting smile and always stopped for a chat whenever they met in the hall.
Stumbling under the weight of her groceries, her heart settling back into a normal rhythm after her scare, Grace hurried toward the open door.
Tessa was harmless. She was safe.
She greeted the other woman with a bob of her head. “Tessa, hi. Thanks for holding the door for me. Appreciate it.”
“Need some help with your bags?”
Ice skittered down her spine at the deep voice with the clipped tone. Jumpy as ever, it was all she could do not to react.
She didn’t see him standing there in the shadows of the vestibule. Silly. She should’ve known better by now. Lucas was never too far from his lovely bride.
It was an automatic reaction. Gripping the handles of her grocery bags tightly, she moved them closer in case he tried to take them. Her lips pressed together; she hoped it passed for a grin. “Thank you, Lucas, but I’m fine.”
Tessa De Angelis was harmless. She was safe. Lucas… was not.
Every time she ran into her sixth floor neighbor, her heart sped up, her pulse like a jackhammer. And it wasn’t just that the man was gorgeous. He was. With olive-toned skin and coal-black hair, he was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Lucas De Angelis didn’t flaunt it, though, didn’t use it, and he was so obviously devoted to his wife that—even with her own troubles—Grace would never dream of making a play for him. Because, apart from being fond of Tessa, Grace was just a little bit afraid of her husband.
She could see it in his eyes. Pale blue, as cold as ice, there was something there. A determination, and a darkness, like he would do whatever he had to, no matter the cost, in order to get whatever he wanted.
Grace shivered.
Tommy had that look, too.
Lucas loomed behind his wife, his hand pressed to the small of her back. A sweet touch, sure, but also a possessive brand. Grace understood that. When she went out with Tommy, he tended to place his hand in the same spot on her back.
“We were just on our way up,” Tessa said warmly. “Elevator or stairs?”
Normally, Grace liked to take the stairs. Climbing up and down the five flights was as much exercise as she could dare to get these days, and the idea of being trapped inside of an elevator reminded her too much of her three-day stay in Tommy’s penthouse.
But normally she wasn’t carrying all of the groceries she would need for the next week. It was either struggle all the way up or spend less than a minute in an enclosed space with her neighbors.
“Elevator, if you don’t mind sharing.”
“Of course not.”
Lucas left Tessa’s side long enough to enter the code and select the up button. The door opened and he held it with his hand so that the two women could step inside. He followed them in, selecting the sixth floor before joining his wife again.
The trio separated when the elevator dinged and the steel doors opened: Grace and her bags veered to the right, while Tessa and Lucas headed for the apartment closest to the elevator.
Before she pulled her keys out of her pocket, Grace gave the door handle a quick tug. It was still locked tight. Good. Shifting her groceries to one arm, she stuck her key in the deadbolt lock and sighed when it turned easily.
The weight of the bags made her arms go numb. She threw open her front door, shimmying the heavy bags down as she marched into her apartment. Her mind was already on the dinner she was going to make and how relieved her aching, tired arms would be when she plopped the bags on top of her kitchen counter.
She never got that far.
Her bags slipped from her suddenly lax grip, landing with a muffled thud on the carpet. An apple spilled out of one and rolled a few feet away. Grace barely noticed.
She only had eyes for the elaborate bouquet perched on her dining table, waiting for her.
The arrangement was massive, the crystal clear vase nearly as wide as a dinner plate. Hundreds of flowers exploded out of the rimmed lip, all the same type though there were many different colors. Shades of pinks, whites, purples, and reds, nestled with the delicate baby’s breath.
Before Tommy, she wouldn’t have recognized the flat bloom. Now she knew they were viscaria.
Will you dance with me?
The first flower he brought her, the day they met for coffee. He already knew she was a dancer and thought he was being clever, bringing her a flower with such a meaning. Grace was touched that he picked up the detail from her profile.
It wasn’t long before she learned that he approached their date like a merger between two business partners. He knew everything there was to know about her before she ever connected with him on that website.
Panic set in and she worked hard to push it aside. This wasn’t the first time she’d returned home to find that her private space had been violated while she was gone. Until she could process the reality of it again, she allowed the disconnection from her feelings to sweep over her.
Grace had been living in Strawberry Village for almost two months. She knew he would come after her eventually—he always did. And, apart from the time he held her against her will, he never harmed her. Not physically, at least. Emotionally? She was in tatters, just hanging on.
How did he get in? How did he pick the lock? Know the code? How—
Focus. She had to focus.
All right. All right.
Edging closer to the table, she saw that the flowers weren’t left by themselves.
Tommy didn’t bother with a box because he probably knew that she might toss it without ever peeking inside. Instead, he stretched the diamond tennis bracelet out on the table. The rocks on the bracelet were so big, they sparkled and shone beneath her ceiling light. Once upon a time, she might’ve thought it was costume jewelry. She knew better now.
There was no card attached to the arrangement. No need. Only one person would send those to a retired ballerina—and only he would find a way to leave them inside her locked apartment. And the diamonds…
She’d lost track of how many he showered her with when they were dating. Tommy was convinced he could buy her love with flashy diamonds, as if she were that shallow. His wealth always made her uncomfortable. She tried to get over her hang-up because he seemed like such a good guy at first.
The sparkling gems were as much a calling card as the flowers. It had to be him. And if Tommy had used this gift to announce he had found her again, that begged another question.
Swallowing roughly, glancing around the room, she asked herself, Where’s the second package?
There was always a second package.
Stepping over her forgotten groceries, Grace began her search of the apartment, her heart in her throat and her cell phone in her hand. She’d learned by now that using it to call for help was pointless—she’d given up hope that anyone would help her—but maybe she could throw it at Tommy and stun him long enough to race for the front door.
Not for the first time, Grace wondered why he insisted on trying to get her back. With his money and his power, she knew Tommy could have any woman he wanted. It never made sense why he locked on her the way he had. She was almost sure that the only reason he hadn’t given up on her yet was because he thought of her as the one who got away.
And, she learned long ago, no one got away from Tommy Mathers.
When the stress and the anxiety and the looking over her shoulder got bad enough, Grace almost
called him and begged him to stop. She almost gave in herself, knowing that he wouldn’t stop and the only alternative would be for her to go back to him. At her lowest points, it seemed to make sense to her.
If she went crawling back to him, he’d stop chasing her. And then, once he got what he wanted, maybe he’d finally realize she wasn’t fit to be his stupid wife and trade her in for some other woman.
It could happen.
Only then she would remember the lengths he had gone—the lengths he continued to go—in order to get her to agree to becoming his bride. It was a battle between the two of them now. Tommy wouldn’t be satisfied with one night, or even a couple of dates. No matter his reasons, he made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t settle for less than forever.
And that was one thing she couldn’t give him.
So she tried to run, and she tried to hide, even knowing that it was all in vain. It was, too. Because, here she was, clearing her kitchen before tiptoeing toward her bathroom, knowing that he found her again.
Just like he promised he would do the first time she got away.
And the second.
“I’ll never stop, Grace.”
It was a promise and a threat, and one she’d never managed to get out of her head.
A quick glance in the bathroom revealed it was empty. No package.
That left two more rooms to check: the unused guest room where she stretched and practiced ballet in the tiny space it allowed; and her bedroom.
With a shudder, she knew exactly where he would have left his gift. There was no way he wouldn’t have gone into her bedroom. She only prayed he wasn’t still in there.
Tommy wasn’t, but his final gift was waiting for her, just like the viscaria and the bracelet. He left the box sitting in the center of the bed she made that morning. It was a white box, the sort you get at a bakery when you buy a half dozen cupcakes. A red Christmas bow—more than two months early—was stuck to the top of the lid.
I'll Never Stop (Hamlet Book 4) Page 2
