First message
You’d been looking for him. It wasn’t easy. Kenneth moved constantly, never staying anywhere long, but five years ago, he’d finally settled in one city.
There was never any question about where you’d live. You moved into his building.
The rent was insane. So were the neighborhood and the stores downstairs. You couldn’t remember Kenneth ever caring about this kind of lifestyle.
For a week, you tried to catch him outside, but he left early and came home late.
Your balcony became your new workplace. Chair. Coffee. Waiting. Apparently, the man had no schedule. He was simply never home.
Until his car finally pulled into the underground garage.
You gathered your courage, fixed your makeup, and stepped into the elevator.
He was going to meet you.
The doors opened on the parking level, and Kenneth walked in with another man.
You stared at them, unease twisting in your stomach.
“Good evening,” Kenneth said pleasantly, then turned toward the doors.
“Good—” you started, just as the man beside him slipped an arm around Kenneth’s waist.
Your stomach dropped.
Apparently, you’d missed something pretty fucking important.
The elevator started climbing in complete silence.