Page 115 of Hate to Love You
My hand grips the handle, tugging it open as the car’s central locking disengages. Before I can step out into the cool crisp air, Trevor calls out to me.
“Miss.”
“Hmm?” I murmur, looking over at him, my eyes draw to his face, his skin paling.
“Please don’t be long,” Trevor says, staring forward in the car. Following his line of sight, my eyes focus on Jacques, who works a few floors below mine.
And he’s on The List.
“Trevor?” I ask softly, but he doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even turn to look at me.
Leaning forward, I gently rest my hand on his shoulder, making him flinch and pull away.
He turns, the apology on the tip of his tongue, but I hold my hand up to stop him.
Nodding to his face, I ask, “How’d that happen?”
He shakes his head softly, “I… umm…fell down some stairs.”
Once again, I notice the way his nervous eyes fly back to Jacques, who’s chatting to a petite blonde while waiting for his order.
My heart stops as I glance back at Trevor, his eyes looking anywhere but at me as he picks at the stray lint on his jacket.
I remember my stairs.
Suddenly I’m pulled from the present to a memory I’ve successfully repressed…
My heart is pounding as I fly out the door, running from my monster. I hear him roar as he realizes before his footsteps pound down the hall behind me.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.
My hair whips across my face as I turn, slamming into the elevator door. Pounding my fist against the button, praying it comes before he does.
But it doesn’t.
The monster appears in the hall, charging toward me.
I can feel the sweat trickling down my back.
I have to get away.
As I push away from the metal door, I scream in terror, flying straight for the emergency stairs. But just as I fling open the door, his body slams into my back, forcing me through the door into the stairwell.
His shouting echoes against the concrete walls, deafening me, and making his words indecipherable. Another scream escapes my lips as my eyes dart behind him, hoping and praying that someone, anyone, will appear and save us.
Tearfully my head shakes as I stare up at him, holding my stomach as I whisper pathetically, bracing myself against the metal railing. “Please.”
His face is red, every single vein in his neck straining against his skin as he continues to spit venom at me. Sweat drips down his temple, and his eyes that look black in the fluorescent stairwell lights, bulge from his skull.
He brings his hands up to my shoulders, yanking me away from the wall.
For a second, I breathe a sigh of relief, thinking he’s going to relent, and take us back to the penthouse.
But then his fists clench, pulling me further away from the door, backing me towards the stairs.
Time freezes as a singular word leaves his mouth.
“Whore.”