Page 117 of No One But Me
That wanted proof I mattered beyond the contract we'd signed.
I pressed my palms against my eyes until stars burst behind my lids.
You don't want his attention. You want him gone. You want your life back.
But when I dropped my hands, the bookstore felt colder than before.
And my phone stayed silent.
The bell above the door jingled.
I looked up from the register, already forming a polite closing-time smile.
It died on my lips.
Two men stood in the doorway. Leather jackets worn soft with age. Jeans that had seen better days. Hard stares that swept the store like they were cataloging exits.
Not readers.
Not even close.
The taller one stepped inside first. Broad shoulders. Greasy smile that didn't reach his eyes. The kind of smile that made my skin crawl.
His friend followed—shorter, stockier, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
They didn't browse. Didn't glance at displays or ask about recommendations.
They looked at me.
I straightened slowly, heart kicking against my ribs.
"Can I help you?" My voice came out steadier than I felt.
The tall one crossed toward the counter with lazy confidence. Like he had all the time in the world.
"You Belle Reiss?"
Ice flooded my veins.
He knew my name.
I gripped the edge of the counter. "Who's asking?"
He laughed—low, ugly sound that made my teeth clench.
Behind me, I heard the soft scuff of boots on hardwood.
The shorter one had circled around. Pretending to examine shelves near the back room. Close enough that I couldn't bolt without him intercepting.
Trapped.
The tall one leaned against the counter. Too close. Invading space he hadn't earned.
"We just came for a chat." His smile widened. "Just business."
My stomach dropped.
Business.
