Page 136 of The Invite
Instead, she left her imprint on me.
CHAPTER – 33
Nessa
Ace believes my excuse when I tell him I better stay at my place in case the detectives reach out to me.
When the truth is, I don’t want to put him in danger and get in the crosshairs of either Augustus or Anonymous.
As soon as I come home, I google the extra security measures I can take to protect myself against trespassers. The list suggests everything from electric fences to motion sensors. I am gobsmacked at how advanced this market has become with so many options that my head spins.
I immediately call the guy who recently changed my locks and ask him to help me choose the best one. Except in my hurry, I don’t notice that both cost a fortune. He hears the disappointment in my voice and says he’ll come to look at my place to come up with a budget-friendly solution.
Hans probably thinks I’m going overboard or that I’m one of those paranoid freaks who worries aliens will attack us. A survivalist with a secret bunker. But if he went through the shit that I’ve gone through since stepping foot in this godforsaken town, he’ll understand my predicament.
It’s eleven in the morning when the doorbell rings. I put aside the cereal box I’m about to pour into the bowl of milk and make my way to greet Hans.
He’s here early.
When I open my door, it’s not Hans standing on my porch.
“Shouldn’t you be resting in your coffin?” I glare at Augustus, looking dapper in a forest green shirt with a crew neck and dark cargo pants.
He replies dryly, “I’m not a vampire.”
“You’re a stalker, which is worse because I can’t drive a wooden stake in your heart and be rid of you once and for all.”
“Use a knife. You love those.”
“Nobody has time to clean up the mess.” His lips twitch, infuriating me even more.
His departure last night was so rude and incredibly insensitive for how it made me feel. Under his sinful touch, I forgot the disastrous day and the impending doom waiting for us. Then he had to go ahead and make it worse by treating me like a cheap toy.
In all the times we’ve been together, he didn’t leave wearing an expression that said he touched something bad. Or without tucking me in bed, which is stupid to think of as sweet, and it’s a minute gesture compared to the rest of the deviant acts he does.
Yet last night, I had to hold back tears.
So, his coming here today without an iota of remorse is a punch in the gut.
I refuse to show he’s affecting me, and retort, “I think you’re a few hours early. It’s still daytime, Mr. Grayson.”
“Let me in.”
“Sorry, my shift as a whore doesn’t start until midnight,” I say with a flutter of my eyelashes. “Didn’t my pimp tell you?”
Having enough of my attitude, he lifts me off the ground with an arm around my waist. Strolling into my house, he shuts the door behind him.
I don’t fight him and hang my hands limply at my sides.
He wants a fuck toy, he will get one.
“So, you do know how to knock and use the front door?” I’m too furious to bite my tongue, and taunt, “Did you lose your magical ability to walk through walls? Did your secret entrance get shut?”
Dumping me on the couch unceremoniously, he says, “I’m taking it you’re not a morning person.”
“Let’s just get it over with.” I stand up and start ripping my clothes off one by one. Augustus freezes and I arch a brow as I whip off my shirt and throw it away. “Where do you want me? On my knees? On my back?”
“I’m not here to fuck you, Nessa.”
