~Joan~
“Who?” I perked up, looking away from my computer to Brielle, who leaned by the door frame with a dreamy smile.
“A man. God, he looks so fucking good-tall, broad shoulders, expensive-looking,” she muttered, twirling a strand of her hair.
I raised a brow, confused. “And you’re saying that man is looking for me?”
She huffed, arms crossed. “Yeah. He is.”
The office was quiet now; Alessia and Garrett had already left for the day, leaving just Brielle and me.
“That’s surprising,” I mumbled, shutting my laptop and standing up.
“Grab your bag. You’re done for today. Go home,” she said, waving a dismissive hand.
I smirked. “Since when do you boss me around?”
Her blank stare was unimpressed. “Since you’re always the last one here. I might not be your boss, but I outrank you, so go home, Jo.”
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my bag off the desk. “Got it.”
As I reached the door, she spoke again. “If he’s single, can I have his number?” She batted her lashes dramatically.
I snorted. “We’ll see. You might have to bribe me.” A small smile tugged at my lips as I walked out.
The building was nearly empty, only a few staff members still lingering. I glanced at my watch-8:12 p. m.
Did Denzel come to pick me up? Unlikely. He didn’t even know where I worked. And we hadn’t set a time to meet.
As I stepped outside, I saw the hair before I saw the face. My feet slowed instinctively until I came to a stop.
He must have sensed me because he turned, dark eyes locking onto mine.
His expression softened, and he took a step forward.
I just stared, my brain scrambling for an explanation. I had walked out of his house two days ago. I had told him never to follow me, never to send anyone after me.
So how the hell did he know I was here?
“Jo…” he started, but I shook my head, stepping back.
“It’s Joan to you. What are you doing here?” I crossed my arms tightly over my chest.
He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. It had grown longer, messier than usual, and a faint stubble shadowed his jaw.
Even unkempt, he still looked good.
He nodded, almost to himself. “Yeah. Can we talk? Just for a minute?”
“We have nothing to talk about, Thompson.” I brushed past him, keeping distance between us.
“Joan, please. There’s something you should know.” He closed his eyes briefly, as if searching for the right words. “I know I fucked up, but just hear me out.”
I tilted my head, studying him.
“Fucked up, yeah. Talking, no.” My voice was flat. My throat burned from holding back emotions I didn’t want to feel.
“I won’t ask how you found out where I work. You always have your ways,” I muttered.
He sighed heavily.
“Don’t come here again,” I said before turning and walking away.
I knew he was following me. I could feel it. I quickened my pace.
“Let me give you a ride at least,” he called after me.
“I can take care of myself,” I snapped, hailing a cab.
The moment it stopped, I jumped in, slamming the door behind me. My hands gripped my bag tighter as I exhaled.
I needed to get away. From Aaron. From his presence. From the way he still made my heart stutter to a stop.
My phone buzzed with a text. My heart squeezed as I saw the name.
Mr. Big Dickkk: One chance, Jo. Just let me talk to you.
I stared at the message longer than I should have before deleting his number. Then I locked my phone and stared out the window.
That’s when I noticed it.
Aaron was following us.
I straightened. “Keep driving,” I told the cab driver. “And don’t slow down.”
I couldn’t go home. Not with him on my tail.
Gripping my phone, I scrolled through my contacts and pressed a name.
The line rang twice before he picked up.
“Hey, what do you say to grabbing coffee tonight?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“Uh… hey, good evening to you too,” Denzel replied, amused. “Sure, we could.”
I let out a breath. “Sorry, this is sudden.”
“It’s cool. I wasn’t doing much anyway.”
“Got a place in mind?”
He hesitated. “Yeah, actually. Want me to text you the details?”
“Yes, please.”
We hung up, and I leaned forward, tapping the cab driver’s shoulder.
“We’re being followed by the black sedan. Can you lose it?”
His eyes widened as he checked the rearview mirror, then nodded.
I gave him a tight smile. “Good.”
The cab shot forward, weaving through traffic, pushing just beyond what was legal.
Another text came in. I opened it immediately.
Brown Eyes: Ciao, Gloria. 550, Vanderbilt Ave.
Gloria’s wasn’t a bad choice.
If it helped me avoid Aaron, it was perfect.