4: Lost Purse

BLAIR

“Yes mum,” I say into the phone, keeping my eyes trained on the mirror in front of me.

My fingers move deftly in my hair, twisting back and forth as I try to braid my hair. I curse softly when I miss a step and tangle the strands all together.

“Are you listening to me?” Mum’s soft voice comes over the speaker.

I drop my hands from my hair and sigh.

“Yes,”

I replied, even though I had no idea what she was saying for the past ten minutes.

“Now that I’m sure you’re paying attention. Your father said he would send the jet since you’re coming with Mikayla and Sasha.” She pauses like she usually does in between sentences. “And Blair, please, come straight home and don’t pull any of your ‘pranks’.”

The ‘prank’ was said with so much force it made me want to laugh.

I catch myself just in time and nod to the orders, before it clicks in my head and I reply with a soft yes. She wishes me a safe trip and hangs up. The three beeps that follow are music to my ears.

Speaking to my mum isn’t usually hard and I don’t view hot as a chore—most of the time.

Her socialite life gets on my nerves when I’m at home, but in school, I didn’t mind.

Dare I say it is almost fun sometimes.

Although she insists she isn’t a gossiper like the rest of her socialite friends. She does have information on most of the ins and out of the people back home. And she doesn’t miss an opportunity to let people know what she knows.

She calls me every week at the same time to check up. Though it wasn’t our usual call time, I knew it was so she could relay my father’s information.

Said man will tell me himself. I know them.

And as busy as my dad is running his software company, he was painfully present in all his kids’ lives.

My braids aren't working out, so I brush curly my hair and pull it into a low bun. I moved to my bed from the stool I’d been sitting on.

Just as I get on the bed, I hear a loud knock on my door. Sighing, I get up and open it.

It has been locked since yesterday after we got back from the diner.

Mikayla and Sasha have all tried their best to get me to come out. But none of their efforts worked as I chose to stay locked in here.

I made sure they were out before I ordered takeout. I snuck out to get it when the delivery guy showed up.

I know it is one of them at the door even before I get to it so I don't bother putting anything on.

I’m still in the clothes I slept in. An oversized tee and short shorts which have disappeared under the shirt.

When I pull the door open, the first thing I see is a dark figure.

I take a step back immediately, pushing the door back. But it is already too late.

The door is pushed back, not with much force that it would harm me but enough to keep the door open.

“We need to talk.”

The last person I expected to show up in my apartment says, holding the door open.

His voice is silky smooth, deep with a soft rasp.

It made my forehead crease in a frown, because I shouldn’t pay attention to that.

The only thing I’m supposed to do to this man is either punch him in the face or punch him everywhere else.

Maybe between the legs.

Careful, tiger. There’s something called a lawsuit and it’ll be best to avoid it.

I curse the voice of reason in my head and settle for glaring.

Giving him the best dirty look I can muster, I finally look up to meet the eyes of the same man I saw at the diner.

His audacity to show up here.

He breathes a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing when our eyes meet.

His eyes are the brightest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. I looked away immediately, feeling like I would get lost in the ocean pools.

I’m not going for a swim.

Especially not with him, ever!

“What do you want? What are you doing here? How do you even know I live here?”

My voice grows louder and more strained with each question.

I look over his shoulder, trying to find escape routes.

I can barely see anything. His large hulking body covered my entire doorway.

I never realized how small our apartment was until now.

He makes the door look mini with his height and build. The suit he is wearing—a Brioni—doesn't hide the bulkiness of his chest and arms. Filling the attire in the best way.

His hair, a dark wavy brown, is cut shorter on the sides than it is at the top. I would hate that style on anyone but he makes it work.

His eyes, a blue that rivals the ocean, is staring at me with amusement dancing.

That finally snaps me from my perusal of him and I remember I’m supposed to be trying to get away from him. Not checking him out.

He could be a weird stalker who preys and stalks on drunk girls at clubs for all I know.

I shouldn’t let my guard down. And I still don’t know how he got in here.

I’d dragged Mikayla’s hands and ran out of the diner when we confirmed he was the one I woke up next to that morning.

He followed us outside of course, but we were lucky to get a cab and we got in immediately. We headed to the park instead of back to our apartment to throw him off, in case he followed us.

Kayla didn't think it was smart, but I didn't care. I just wanted to get away from him.

When we finally returned home, I hid in my room and I’ve been here ever since.

So, how did he find me?

“It wasn't that difficult.” He says.

My brows shoot up in question, wondering what he means. He holds up my purse, which makes my eyes widen.

“You forgot it at the diner,” he hands it back to me.

I snatch it from his hand, still giving him a dirty glare.

“Hope you’re not expecting a thank you?” I mutter, going through the purse to make sure everything is as I left it.

Nothing is amiss, which only made me like him less.

“Not exactly.” He breathes out, his deep voice makes the hairs on my arm rise. “I was hoping we could talk.”

I cocked a brow, wondering why. There is no way he could have heard us at the diner.

So, if not because of that. Why is he here?