by Rayne, Piper
I lean back in my seat, taking the bait.
“My younger brother told me to fight. That I was Enzo Mancini, and I had to fight for the love of my life if I wanted her back. That sitting on my ass being scared wasn’t the right move.” He stands and tucks the box into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
I lace my hands behind my head. “Words of wisdom, huh?”
He shakes his head, his hand on the doorknob. “Just telling you to keep your ass out of the Hamptons this weekend, that’s all. Oh, and thank you for kicking my ass when I needed it because otherwise, I would never be what I am today—one lucky bastard.” He walks out of my office then peeks back in. “And stop cockblocking your assistant.”
Justin returns to his desk with a stack of brochures for a new listing. There’s no smile or pep in his step.
Yeah, that was a douche move on my part, I’ll give my brother that one.
“Justin!” He walks in, and before he can say anything, I say, “Go ahead and bang Max. I don’t care. Your job isn’t on the line.”
“Okkkaaayy,” he says.
“Did you really cut her off?” I ask.
“Well, I can’t lose my job and Max is wishy-washy sometimes, so I had to make the secure choice and that was the job. But if I really cared and thought she did, I would’ve told you to fuck yourself.”
I chuckle, and the truest smile I’ve felt all week reaches my eyes. “Good man.”
I bury my head in my work for the next few hours, but Enzo’s words run on repeat in my head. I’m Carmelo Mancini, the man who takes chances others don’t and doesn’t admit defeat. I go after what I want until I get it. I’m not afraid to lose because I’m always right.
So at six o’clock, when I’m about to shut down for the night, I pack up with one intent only—to find Bella and convince her that the two of us belong together.
I step out into the hall and see the light in her office is still on.
I think it’s my lucky day.
Until a bloodcurdling scream comes from the other side of her office door. I turn the knob to find it locked.
Another scream echoes out, and my gut sinks. I need to get in there.
I kick the door.
Once.
Twice.
Sweat pours from my face and I strip off my suit jacket, throwing it on the floor.
I kick the door again.
And again.
And again.
“Bella!” I yell.
“Bella!”
“Bella!”
Kick.
Kick.
Kick.
Finally the wood splinters by the doorjamb and the door bursts open, but what I find almost brings me to my knees.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bella
At five thirty, Max finally calls it quits. She tried to stick it out with me, but I’m pulling a long night because I have to get this business in the black. Jess and Brent don’t work today, so I’m on my own. I might’ve gotten sidetracked by Greg Throttle’s little experiment between Carm and me, but now’s the time to find my client base and build my business.
After a half hour of listening to music from my computer to fill the silence, I get up to grab a soda or a coffee—anything with caffeine that will keep me going.
The office door creaks open and I turn, thinking Max must’ve forgotten something, but a man walks in. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a sweatshirt with some type of writing on it, his hair pulled back into a slick ponytail. A cross earring hangs from his right earlobe.
I know to take down details this time. After that night over a year ago when I could barely give a height, weight, or ethnicity, I know how crucial details are.
My gut clenches, and I step back since he hasn’t seen me yet.
He heads to Max’s desk, opening drawers and searching through the contents. I feel a small amount of relief. Robber.
Not a rapist.
This isn’t a planned attack… can I hide out until he’s done, let him take what he wants, then call the cops? Our office is so small though he’s going to see me. Can I make it to the door before he can do anything?
As I take another step back, my right hand hits the stacked coffee mugs Max washed before she left. They all clatter to the floor. The man’s head springs up, his eyes finding me, and the color drains from his face. I drop my pop can and it bounces off the counter then falls to the floor, spraying dark liquid all over everything, including my white blouse.
He rounds Max’s desk, and relief floods me when he goes for the door. He got caught and now he’s going to leave. Thank God.
But instead of leaving, he locks the door. His eyes dip to my now-see-through blouse then back to my eyes. “And here I thought all I’d find was some shit I could sell.”
I see now that he’s probably on something. His pupils are dilated, and his eyes move rapidly over me. Fear has a vise grip on my throat when he walks toward me. Locks my voice inside when I know I should scream.
I note the small limp with his right leg. I need to alert someone as to what’s going on. Scream for help. With any luck, someone is still working nearby. Maybe at one of the Mancini offices.
I throw a mug at him, but he dodges it and lunges toward me. He grabs my hand, and because he’s so much stronger, he pulls me to him. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out.
He looks down at my blouse and, in one swift motion, rips it open. I’m transported back to that night a year ago. Except that man dressed the part. He was clean-cut, in an expensive suit. I was there to show him the condo he was sure he would put an offer in on. But that’s not why he wanted me there.
I come back to the present when he throws me on Max’s desk. I kick at him, missing his balls. If only I still had my heels on, I could do so much more damage.
A stapler jabs into my back, but I ignore the burst of pain.
“Get off me!” I yell, finally finding my voice.
His sour breath hits my nostrils as his grubby hands try to pull up my skirt, and I gag. I wiggle and move, trying to stop him from getting a hold of me. Once he pins me down, I’m out of this game. I’ve been here before.
I cry out, desperate for help, and reach for anything on the desk to fight back with. When I stab his hand with a pen before he can wrap it around my wrist, it only makes him angrier. I scream, but he tries to cover my mouth. His rancid-smelling hand blocks my only hope for help.
I fight back and manage to wiggle myself to the side, so the stapler is no longer pressing into my back. Once I can grab it, I knock him in the head with it hard enough that he removes his hands from me and holds the spot, stunned.
I race into my office and lock the door behind me, barely able to catch my breath. Before I can get to my desk to call the cops, he takes a paperweight Max has on her desk and throws it into the glass panel beside the door. He reaches in to try to unlock the door and I grab the first thing I see—my letter opener. I stab his hand so he can’t get ahold of the lock.
Continuing to scream, I hear Carm on the other side of the outer office door, screaming my name. He’s kicking the door. The guy looks back at the door, then at me with fear.
Unless he wants to jump out the window, there’s nowhere for him to go.
“Get lost, asshole,” I say, stabbing at him again.
He finally retracts his hand and looks hurriedly around the office for another exit before moving toward the door. The door hits him in the face, knocking him down. He’s sprawled on the floor by Max’s desk, and there stands Carm, with a furious and desperate glint in his eyes.
His face is beet-red, his hands fisted at his sides. He takes in the scene, looks at me through the broken glass beside my door, and his face crumples for a second before he zeroes in on the guy on the floor. Straddling him, he hits the intruder over and over and over. Blood splatters all over Carm’s shirt, the floor, and the side of Max’s desk.
It takes me a second to unlock my door, my hands are shaking so much, but
once I do, I race to him. “Carm!” I reach for his arm. “Stop! Come on! Carm, stop!”
He doesn’t stop until the man lies lifeless underneath him. Then he climbs off him and looks at me. “Are you okay? Did he…”
I shake my head, unable to speak. Then I retreat into myself.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Carm
“You don’t know who this man is?” the police officer asks.
A female police officer is talking to Bella across the hall in my office so they can get her to open up away from the scene.
“No. I don’t think he works in the building.”
The man is on a stretcher, and the paramedics carry him away with an ice pack over his nose.
“We’ll be following him to the hospital and press charges then. And your relation to Miss Scott?” He poises his pen over his pad of paper.
“Boyfriend.” I push my bloody hands through my hair.
“Not that I’d blame you, but it’s a good thing you didn’t kill him.” He jots something else on his notepad and walks toward the door. “I’ll see you both down at the hospital.”
The detective leaves, and I walk away from the guy taking photographs of the scene. When I enter my own office, I see that Bella is still rocking.
The female detective sees me and ushers me back into the hall. “We need to get her to the hospital. Usually we’d drive her, but why don’t you? This is common in repeat instances. She’s lost somewhere between the first time and this time. She gave me enough to know he didn’t penetrate her, so that’s a good sign, but we want the DNA from her fingernails and to take pictures of any bruises and lacerations.”
“Okay,” I croak, since the words repeat instances are flashing like a neon sign in my head.
“We’re heading to Memorial. Please come soon. Time is of the essence.”
I nod and watch her and the other detective leave. Before grabbing Bella, I call down the hall to the officers. “Since her purse is still in her desk drawer, am I allowed to take it and her jacket?”
The officer nods. After I retrieve them, I head back into my office. Bella is still staring at nothing. No tears, no anger, no fear. It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, and it scares me.
“Bella, we have to go to the hospital,” I say in a soft voice.
“Okay.” She stands and heads over to me.
She allows me to escort her down the elevator and into the car I called. She’s quiet and reserved.
“Do you want me to call your mom or Evie?” I ask once we’re secured in the back seat.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Bella?” I reach for her, but she retracts her hand.
“Don’t touch me.”
I pull back, trying not to show that I’m upset she won’t let me comfort her. Her gaze lands on mine, and she must see the pain of wanting to do something there.
“The DNA. I don’t want to mess any of it up. Better if I just sit still until they do what they need to.” She’s so matter-of-fact.
“Bella, the detective…”
Tears fill her eyes. “Can we talk after?”
“Okay.”
“Will you take me home after?” she asks.
“Of course.” I want to say more, but I have no idea what. I’m so out of my element here.
She nods. “Thanks.”
We arrive at the hospital a short while later, and they take Bella into a room. My knee bounces as my mind runs over the vision of Bella with her shirt stained and ripped open. What could’ve happened if I had arrived any later than I did? I can’t even stomach the thought.
More than an hour later she comes out in a set of scrubs, her hair pulled into a ponytail.
“I’m done,” she says.
“Can I touch you now?” I ask, standing from my chair.
“No.” She walks out of the hospital.
I follow, not knowing what exactly to do to help her through this.
More silence fills our ride back to her apartment.
She walks into the lobby and turns around with her hand up in front of her. “You can go now. Thank you for coming with me.”
She has to be kidding me.
“Bella. No.” I shake my head. “I’m seeing you upstairs, and I don’t intend to leave tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch or in the hallway if you prefer, but I’m not leaving.”
She looks at me for so long, I fear she’s going to refuse me, but she nods and we both head to the elevator.
Her apartment has a homey factor mine doesn’t. Her array of colors brightens the small space, making it more welcoming than my own condo, albeit much smaller.
“I’m going to shower,” she says and walks down the hall.
Once I hear the water running, I quickly change into the clothes I grabbed across the street from the hospital while she was with the doctors and the police officer. I was covered in that guy’s blood, and I don’t want her looking at me to be a visceral reminder of what happened.
I debate calling Evie or Annie or Blanca or Ma. Someone who can give me advice on what to do so that I say the right things instead of the dumb shit that usually comes out of my mouth.
Bella obviously doesn’t want to be touched, and all I want to do is hug her and tell her how thankful I am she’s in one piece. Tell her what a badass she is for fending off that asshole and how I would’ve killed him if she hadn’t stopped me. Most importantly, I want to tell her that I’m never leaving her and whether or not she accepts my apology, I have no intention of taking no for an answer. That we’re meant to be together and we will be.
Now isn’t the time for that though. Right now my priority is making sure she’s okay. Or as okay as she can be at the moment.
Instead of calling anyone—because it’s Bella’s business—I look through the cabinets and the fridge so I can at least feed her.
I’m stirring the pasta for the mac and cheese when she walks down her short hallway with her hair in a high wet bun, a pair of sweats, and Columbia T-shirt. Usually I’d make a remark about her T-shirt, but now isn’t the time. She comes over to the stove and I turn toward her, resting the spoon on the counter.
Tears hang off the ends of her lashes. “Now you can touch me.”
She falls into my waiting arms, sobs wailing from her lungs. I grip her tightly, my hand running up and down her back. I whisper all the praise I’ve mentally been giving her all night. Telling her how brave she was and how sorry I am that I wasn’t there.
It physically pains me to see her like this, and I wish I could take some of the pain for her. Hell, I’d take all of it if it meant she’d be whole.
The water boils over onto her stovetop, and I turn off the burner and guide her to the couch. We sit there with her wrapped in my arms, the only sound her silent sobs and sniffles. I want to find the bastard and kill him for what she has to go through because of him.
She draws back after a little while and wipes her tears. “About a year ago, a client called me…”
My eyes close. I should’ve figured this out. This is why she left the business. Because if you’re a FSBO broker, you don’t have to show properties.
“He wanted to see this property, but he was only in town for a short while. It was eight at night and the property was vacant, but I said okay. He used a fake name and a throwaway phone.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” I squeeze her into my side. For months I’ve wanted this information, but now that she’s giving it to me, it doesn’t seem that important. Not if it’s going to mess with her head.
She looks at me, the smallest of smiles creasing her lips, and her hand runs down my chin. “I do. If we’re going to get past this, you have to know what I’ve been hiding.”
I grab her hand and place it in my lap. “If it’s too much…”
“He was dressed in a suit. Clean-cut haircut. Cell phone to his ear when I arrived, like a busy professional. As soon as I opened the door, a chill ran over my body. He didn’t do anything unusual, but the ene
rgy was off. He let me say my spiel. I walked him over to the windows, pointing out the sliver of the city he’d see at night. At first he came up behind me and pressed into me.” She pauses and swallows, the tears stopping. “I’d had clients who made a pass at me before, but this felt different. So I kept my distance, hoping to get us out of there before he tried again.”
“But that didn’t work?”
She shakes her head. “He was too big. Too strong. He had me cornered. Luckily another agent arrived for a showing. The other woman was so shocked and surprised, she came to my aid and he got away. The police were called, but his DNA didn’t show up anywhere. So he’s still out there. I couldn’t bring myself to show strangers properties anymore. That’s why I went FSBO.” She falls into my side again.
“You could’ve trusted me. I would have understood.”
“I know that now, but at the time, it made me feel weak and inadequate. I’ve been through therapy and self-defense classes to get myself together, and it worked for the most part.” She looks at me.
“I hate that this happened to you.” My jaw flexes as I picture the scene I walked in on.
She nods. “Thank you for being here.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
We sit like that. No more words are exchanged, and eventually she falls asleep. I carry her into her bedroom and slide her under the covers, then I lie on top of the covers in case she needs me.
Somewhere between watching her sleep peacefully and her nuzzling into me, I vow to always keep her safe.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bella
Two weeks and six therapy sessions later, a small amount of peace has returned to my life. A lot of it has to do with the fact that my offender has been charged.
