Page 13 of Beastly Mr. Buchanan
“Karey,” he warns.
My name from his perfect lips is too much.
“No!You don’t get to pretend to care or treat me like some circus act.Leave me alone,” I snap.
Despite his greater strength, he moves aside and lets me pass when I shove at him.
A glutton for punishment, I steal a glance behind me as I turn the corner.My insides twist and throb at the intensity in his grey eyes.A sense of doom joins the storm building over my head.
Declan Buchanan may have been an ass yesterday, but when he sets his sights on something, he doesn’t stop until he gets it.
He wants me.
He can’t have me.
My heart hurts.
I take a deep breath and duck into the little side room with the vending and ice machines, wait a few agonizing seconds until the elevator doors close, then head toward the stairs.
Each step downward highlights the hitch in my hip and the bruise on my knee, but I plod onward and ignore the stormy cloud brewing above my head as it attempts to swallow me whole.
My phone rings as I reach for the door to my floor.I curse the timing—and my labored breathing; I was going down the stairs, not up, damn it—and check caller ID as I open the door.
The monikerBoy toy #1sits at the top of the screen.I gnaw on my lip as I yank open the door and step through.
I don’t have a boy toy, but Matthew, my best friend since middle school, has a weird sense of humor.He stole my phone and changed his and his boyfriend’s name in my contacts a while ago, and he’s so ridiculously proud of himself I haven’t been able to bring myself to change it.Boy toy #1andBoy toy #2are inseparable.They’re one of the few couples I haven’t matched that seem ready to go the distance.
Boy toy #2, Fabio, proposed two months ago and moved in a week later.The newly engaged couple insisted I could take my time moving out, but I couldn’t stay.I’m happy for them and want nothing but the best for my best friend, but it hurt too much to have their happiness in my face every day when I’ll never have the same.
Fate is cruel.
I’ve been besties with Matthew for so long, he’ll know something is wrong the moment I answer the phone, but if I don’t, he might rush over to my new apartment in a panic.
I sigh, plaster on a fake smile even though it’s only a voice call, and hit answer before I chicken out.Without looking up, I tuck the phone between my ear and my shoulder and open my purse as I continue down the hall.
Everything I own besides the clothes on my back, my phone, and my purse—which I thankfully had the wherewithal to grab during my frantic escape—is still at my new apartment.If it weren’t for my laptop and prescriptions, I’d never go back, but I can’t do without those for very long.Chills race down my spine as I recall popping awake to my laptop’s lock screen as Brad loomed over me, but I shove the memory away and focus on the present.
I infuse a bit more sweetness than normal into my voice in hopes Matthew won’t notice my frazzled state.
“Hey, ho-o-o-o-ney, babe, the apple of my eye.Let me guess, boy toy number two is right beside you demanding a replay, isn’t he?”
Matthew says yes with a tragic yet loving sigh.
As I pour what little enthusiasm I have into my retelling of my friend’s second proposal, I find my room key but wait to scan it.If the men on the other side of the line hear the beep, they’ll know something is wrong.
My head grows heavier as I near the end of my story, so I rest my forehead on my hotel room door and close my eyes as I wait for their response.
Thank the stars above I keep three antidepressant pills hidden in the tiny inner zipper pocket of my purse, otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning, although maybe that would’ve been for the better.Now I only have two left, which means I have to go back to my new apartment either tomorrow or the next day.I just had the bottle refilled, so I can’t request more from my doctor for at least another month.
Fabio squeals.I pull my phone away from my ear, scan my key card, and twist the door handle before he thanks me with tons of noisy air kisses.His flamboyance is the extreme opposite of Matthew’s straight-presenting reserve, but somehow they make it work.They’re a perfect example of opposites attracting.
A little ray of sunshine breaks through the storm.I shoulder open the door and swallow a spiked lump of emotions as Matthew says thanks before his routine sign off.
“Alright.Love you, too.Bye,” I say and end the call.
I step into my brightly lit hotel room, toss my phone and purse on the corner of the bed, and shrug out of my coat.
The hairs on my nape rise as I realize the door hasn’t clicked shut.For a moment, I can’t move as horror washes over me.
