Page 4 of Tracked By the Fixer

I have to get a look at Lilly Sinclair. And maybe do something about this man that’s harassing her.

Chapter Three

Lilly

I don’t turn my phone on again after sending that text message. Even though I was feeling good about my decision yesterday, I don’t feel so good about it now. Whatever happens, I think that it’s best if it's resolved in person.

So, as I arrive at the Tomlinson’s residence, I make peace with the fact that this is probably my last day. It’s for the best, though. Wendy was right that I don’t need this job if I’m going to be harassed at work.

Although, maybe I’ll get lucky and I’ll be able to get another day’s work in before my tenure here ends.

Those dreams are dashed as soon as I get inside. Mr. Tomlinson is waiting for me, sitting on the bench by the door. He’s on his phone, so I'm sure he’s thinking about that message I sent him. I imagine he’s going to ask why I haven’t responded to the string of texts and maybe even voicemails he doubtless left me last night.

“Ah, Lilly!” he says, pushing himself to his feet with a grin that makes my stomach turn. Acting normal like this is obviously part of some kind of cat-and-mouse game he’s playing with me.

“Mr. Tomlinson,” I say, squeezing my hands into fists at my sides.

“I have some good news for you,” he says as he steps into my space, his voice dipping low in a way that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

“Is that right?” I ask, looking deeper into the house. It’s much more quiet than usual.

“Yes,” he confirms, stepping in closer. I inch backward on instinct. “You won’t have to watch the baby today.”

“Oh,” I say as I brace myself to be fired. I blindly reach for the door. “Then, I guess–”

“That means we can pick up where we left off before we were interrupted yesterday,” he says, voice dripping with what I can only describe as poison. “You’ll be paid, don’t worry.”

“I–” I turn the handle and open the door, quickly stepping onto the porch. The anger I felt yesterday when he pushed me out of the house, when I sent that message, comes back full force. “I don’t think we will.”

He follows me outside, grabbing for my arm. I’m faster than he is, pulling it away. I can see the shock on his face. It’s almost like he thought I wasn’t serious when I sent the text. Or… maybe he thinks I’m playing hard to get.

That thought makes my blood boil even hotter.

“Come on, Lilly,” he says, completely ignoring the way I’m stepping away from him. “I know you’ve felt the connection between us.”

“There is no connection between us!” I shout, stopping in my tracks to berate him. “You’re insane for thinking that! I’m your nanny!”

“Who are you putting on this act for?” he asks, starting to sound frustrated. “It’s just us. My wife’s not here, the baby’s not here. No one has to know, and I’ve already told you that you’ll be getting a day’s pay.”

I scoff, the muscles in my body going tight as I prepare to either run or fight – I’m not sure yet what I’ll do. “You have no boundaries, Mr. Tomlinson. Even when someone makes theirs clear to you, you just ignore them.”

He reels back as though I’ve punched him. This is a man who’s not used to hearing the word “no.” He surrounds himself with yes-men. I wonder if I’m the first person to put up a fight, to not give him what he wants.

“I’m paying your bills,” he spits as he balls his hands into fists at his sides. “That doesn’t even cover the fact that I’ve been giving you extra hours where you don’t even have to do any work! You seemed more than happy to take the money then.”

I set my jaw and lift my chin as I say, “Mr. Tomlinson, I’d prefer to be paid only for the work I’m contracted for. If that’s something you can’t accept, then I’d rather not be paid anything by you at all.”

Mr. Tomlinson moves so fast that I don’t realize what’s happening until I feel a sharp sting on my cheek. My hand flies up to cover the place where he struck me. I open and close my mouth, trying to find the words to rebuke him, but coming up short. My feet feel frozen to the ground, and my brain has a hard time processing that this is real, that Mr. Tomlinson slapped me.

He’s coming at me again, his expression murderous. I move quickly, raising my arms to protect my face from any further blows. My eyes fall closed, and I hold my breath, praying the adrenaline pumping through my veins is enough to keep me from feeling any blows too acutely.

Whatever physical abuse I was expecting to receive never comes. Instead, Mr. Tomlinson gasps with surprise, and I hear the sound of another person grunting with effort. When I open my eyes, Mr. Tomlinson is being restrained, his arm twisted behind his back.

My savior grits his teeth, holding onto my now ex-employer with practiced ease. His black hair shines in the daylight, and I can tell that if we were face to face, I’d have to tilt my head up to look at him properly. My breath catches in my lungs for a completely different reason.

This man, this enormous, tall man, is gorgeous. His face is rugged, yet handsome. Despite the terror that I felt just a few short moments ago, I find myself almost overwhelmed by attraction.

“You get off on taking advantage of women?” the man asks Mr. Tomlinson as he manhandles him toward his door. “Is that what it is, huh?”

---