Clearly, the man was unstable. Through the fear seizing my muscles, I said, “You’re hurting me.”
He blinked. Released my arm. Huffed. “You need me, baby. Look.” He retrieved my crutch but held the metal aide with two hands. “Clearly, you’re in need of help. It’s fate, us bumping into each other. Let me help you to your apartment. We can talk.”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
Rolling his eyes, he hissed, “Our future.”
“We don’t have a future,” I said, jerking the crutch from his hands.
The asshole laughed and stepped back, settling on his heels and crossing his arms. “We do now. I got rid of your boyfriend. He’s not coming around anymore. I made it clear you belong to me.”
“My boyfriend?” My veins went ice cold.
Leaning down, he hissed, “Don’t play stupid. You got my texts and the photos. That guy outside the bank. The one who had his hands all over you.”
Caleb. Oh, God. He hadn’t shown up for our meeting with the Rossi Corporation. He wouldn’t have missed that meeting by choice. “Got rid of?”
“I let him know I was back in your life. Gave him a taste of what would happen if he touched you again.”
“How did you find me?”
“I’ll always find you, Nats. Always. Because you’re mine.”
“Holden, this is…” I staggered back a step, then caught my balance. Oh, God. What should I do? Play on his emotions or scream for help? Surely, somebody would hear.
“I’m not feeling so well. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“You owe me one uninterrupted conversation, Nats. Let’s go upstairs.” Strong fingers cinched my arm. “Just hear me out, and you’ll see. Everything will be fine.”
The door behind me opened. “Hey, Natalie,” came a soft voice. “Oh, no. What happened?” My neighbor, who also waitressed at The Truck Stop Diner, stepped between me and Holden, her blue eyes wide with worry, her breaths labored, like she’d sprinted down ten flights of stairs.
“Hey, Tuuli.” I’d never been so happy to see another human being in my life. “Just a little fall. Twisted my ankle. I’m fine.”
“Who’s your friend?” she asked, her hand linking with mine and giving it a squeeze.
Strange.
We were friendly, but not holding hands friendly, and though she served me on more than one occasion at the diner, she was a woman of few words, and while I knew she lived in the penthouse of my building with her husband, we’d never bumped into each other outside of the restaurant.
“I’m her boyfriend,” Holden announced, inching closer, offering his hand. “Holden Oswald Travers The Third.”
Bile rose in my throat. But sweet Jesus, I was thankful for the petite body next to me, her size small but her presence mighty.
“Oh. Nice to meet you.” Tuuli gave Holden a firm shake, then gasped and stepped back. “HOTraversFitness.” She laughed, clutching her heart. “I follow you on Insta.”
Holden smiled, his spine straightening.
My stomach twisted. What the actual F-word was happening?
“That’s me,” he said, chest expanding.
“My husband is a huge fan. That series you did on core health and sexual endurance.” She ducked her head and laughed. “Life changing. You saved our relationship.”
“Not surprised.” Holden puffed like a peacock. “That’s a popular series.”
“He’s upstairs,” Tuuli continued. “He’d love to meet you.” She grabbed my hand once again. “Maybe you’ve heard of him, Cole Adams.” Squeeze. Squeeze. “He’s famous in the fight world. Not as famous as you, though.”
Cole was not upstairs. Only a few minutes had passed since he called. How Tuuli got involved, how she even knew Cole’s name, I hadn’t a clue, but what the heck did it matter?
The little actress had Holden. Hook. Line. Sinker.
Any chance for Holden to meet a celebrity, he was all in. Any opportunity to promote his brand, he was game.
“Yeah. Yeah. Sure.” Holden cupped my face, rubbed my bottom lip with his thumb. “Nats and I were just heading up anyway.”
Killed me, but I played along, allowing Holden to wrap his beefy arm around my shoulder and help me hobble inside and then to the penthouse private elevator.
I tried and failed to speak on the ride up, which didn’t matter because Tuuli and Holden rattled on about breathing techniques and stretching.
We were greeted inside the lavish home by a short and deadly gorgeous woman, a wiggling toddler in her arms. She looked vaguely familiar, but came at me like we were besties and hooked me in a tight, one arm hug, effectively freeing me from Holden’s embrace. “Good God, Natalie. What happened? You shouldn’t be on your feet.” She landed a kiss on my cheek and whispered, “Play along,” before shooing me to the other room, settling me on the couch, and shoving the child into my arms.
“Where’s your husband?” Holden asked, his gaze sliding to me, then toward the stairs, then back to the two women at his side.
“He’s in his office. I’ll call him down.” Tuuli moved around the kitchen island, grabbed her cell, and with thumbs moving across her phone screen, said, “Holden, this is Aida. Aida, Holden.”
“Nice to meet you, Aida.” His offered hand hung in the air for five heartbeats, his cheeks reddening. He finally cleared his throat and dropped his arm to his side, eyeing her warily.
I almost laughed. The two of them looked as though they’d planned their matching outfits, both donning black, zipped hoodies that stretched tight over fit bodies. While Aida wore leggings and Moto boots, Holden wore black jeans and Danners.
Aida, though small in stature, stood regal and commanding, sizing up Holden like they were opponents in the ring. “Damn, you’re huge.” She crossed her arms and started to circle. “What are you, one-eighty, one-eighty-five?”
Holden laughed, his chest swelling. “You’re good. One-eighty-seven this morning.”
“Hmm,” she said, crossing her arms and planting her feet in front of his. “You a fighter?”
The baby fussed and wiggled in my arms, clearly not happy to be constrained by a stranger. I shifted her from my right thigh to my left
