Vicious Little Darling (Love So Cruel #3)

2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

EMBER

T he hair on the back of my neck stands on end as I take a sip of my IPA, but I brush the uneasy feeling off. It’s more than likely that some fucking creep is putting his eyes on me, but this is a bar, and bars always have a few sketchy individuals lurking in them. It’s nothing new, and it doesn’t bother me. I have pepper spray tucked away safely in my back pocket.

“Can you believe that Josh actually took the night off?” Megan says, her obviously fake red hair spilling over her shoulder as she pokes my best friend in the arm.

Josh shrugs, his dark brown eyes gleaming under the light. “I only did it for Ember. She says I don’t get out enough.”

I chuckle. “All I did was tell you the truth. You needed to take a night off from the bar and get out.”

“Just to show up at another one,” he teases me, shaking his head. Rich, the owner of the bookstore I work at, bursts into laughter along with Megan. I giggle, but the feeling of being watched still lingers, and I can’t shake it.

“You okay?” Megan, my friend and coworker at the bookstore, turns to me, her black brows furrowed. “You seem off.”

“I’m just tired,” I lie, deciding not to reveal my random onset of paranoia. I’m not one to question my instincts, but right now, I’m almost annoyed with myself.

“You ready to go then?” Josh throws it out there, eyeing Rich, who sits beside me. I don’t think Josh likes my boss for whatever reason, and he doesn’t interact with him much other than giving him a side-eye every now and then.

“Let me run to the bathroom and then we can go,” I say as I slide off my stool. “I don’t want to have to make a pit stop in an alley on the way home.”

“Gross, Ember. Seriously,” Megan makes a disgusted face. “Have a little class.”

“Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures,” I tease her, and then I head off for the restrooms just to my right. It’s a straight shot, only about ten feet from the table we are sitting at—but with every step towards it, a sick feeling washes over my body.

What the hell is wrong with me tonight? I shake my head at myself as I shove open the door to the ladies’ room, revealing a small, three-stall bathroom. I relieve myself quickly, wash my hands, and then pause in front of the mirrors to smooth out my hair. It’s frizzy, so I do my best to lay down the baby hairs that are flying everywhere. It’s a lost cause though, so after a few moments of trying, I give up.

I roll my shoulders before reaching for the door, and then I whip it open and step out into the little waiting area. However, I quickly realize that my exit is blocked by a tall, athletically built man with black hair and striking green eyes. He is wearing a crisp white button up and jeans, which—together with the fucking Rolex on his left wrist— scream money. Probably worth more than all my organs combined if sold on the black market.

“Um, excuse me,” I say, trying to slip by him.

He holds out a hand to stop me. “I’ve been watching you all night.”

Ahh, here’s the creep.

I sigh, brushing my hair out of my face. “That’s really not a good opening line, you know.”

“No, but it’s the truth. There’s just something about you, and I have a thing for girls who need saving.”

I raise my brows. “What is it about me makes you think I need saving?”

He rocks back on his heels. “Okay, maybe nothing. But seriously, I’m horrible at this. I saw you, and I think you’re pretty. You looked like you weren’t having a great time tonight. I could take you somewhere nicer—not even tonight. Maybe some other time.” His shoulders fall slightly, and for a second, I actually feel sorry for him, putting himself out there to hit on a girl like me.

“Honorable, really,” I fake a smile. “But I’m not interested.”

“Right, of course. I’m probably not your type,” he mutters as he finally steps to the side to let me through.

“No one is my type,” I say to him, patting his arm like he’s a poor little puppy, as I slip past. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against a relationship, but I am against dating some kind of rich, trust fund baby like whoever this guy is.

“I’m ready to go.” I breathe a sigh of relief as I make it back to the table, where Josh is keeping a close eye on me. I grab my jacket and slide into it, preparing myself for the chilly evening air.

“You want me to beat him up?” my best friend laughs, extending his arm for me to take. “He seems like the kind of guy who will try to add you on Facebook, later.”

“Ew, gross,” I giggle as Josh leads me toward the door. I leave my arm hooked into his as we exit, and I give myself a quick mental check. The creepy feeling has passed, and now I’m positive it was the guy waiting for me outside of the restrooms.

“We’re cutting your night out short,” I say as we head toward my apartment. “I feel bad.”

“Em, literally every night, is a night out for me. I own a bar for fuck’s sake.” He gazes down at me, amusement in his eyes. “I was seriously hoping that you’d want to go to the movies or something. I get tired of the night life.”

“Maybe you should hire someone.”

“Maybe you should come to work for me,” he shoots back at me, his tone growing serious. “I could pay you better than Rich does.”

“I’m not a bartender,” I reason, my eyes dropping to my beat-up Converses. “And not to mention, your bar is way too upscale for me. I stand out like a sore thumb when I just show up to visit you.”

“That’s not true.” Josh shakes his head, his brawny biceps flexing against my arm.

I take in the handsome cut of his jaw, and nearly laugh. He wasn’t always handsome. When we met in our freshman year of college, he was scrawny and nerdy, and his glasses were nearly the same size as his face. He’s really grown into himself, with that perfectly chiseled body he’s worked hard to build, and while I’m proud of him, I get tired of my mom constantly asking why I’m not with him.

I just don’t see him like that.

Attraction isn’t a choice—you either feel it, or you don’t.

“You just deserve better,” Josh grunts from beside me when I don’t say anything further. “Starting with your drabby-ass apartment.”

I roll my eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my apartment.”

“Your neighbor was stabbed to death last year. I’d say that, in and of itself, is probably a good indicator that you should move.”

I grow defensive. “That could happen anywhere, but seriously, Josh, I don’t want to fight about it. The moment we’re alone, you always start talking about me moving, working for you, or whatever. I’m tired of it. I like my life, and I don’t want your charity.”

Josh drops my arm. “How the hell can you call it charity? After all the years we’ve been friends? It’s not charity, Em. It’s just me taking care of—”

“I don’t want you to take care of me!” I explode, throwing my hands in the air. “I can take care of myself. Just like I don’t need you to walk me all the way back to my apartment. I manage by myself just fine.”

“God, you’re so fucking na?ve sometimes,” Josh snaps, his face riddled with visible hurt. “You think that because your aura is off-putting that no one will fuck with you, but this city doesn’t give a shit about that.”

I let out a sharp breath, annoyed up to my fucking eyeballs. “I’ll walk myself home from here,” I say, stopping under the streetlight. There are still quite a few people out and about right now, and the creepy feeling has long passed. Good riddance.

Josh folds his arms across his chest. The two of us are almost in a standoff of sorts. “You’re so hardheaded, Em.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you love me,” I snort back, unable to hide a smile. “But still, I’ll walk myself home from here. I don’t need your protection.”

“Don’t do that,” he argues. “You don’t know who might be creeping around in wait for a woman just like you.”

I laugh. “Absolutely no one is looking for a woman just like me .”

His face falls and his lips part as if he might say something else, but instead, he shakes his head. “Fine. Just text me when you get home then. Please.”

I give him a thumbs up. “You got it, bro.”

He frowns. “Don’t call me bro. But, seriously, I can pay you better, and get you out of this shithole if you’d just give me a chance.”

“Good night, Josh,” I snort, turning around and showing him my back. “Go find someone else to save.” He mutters something that I don’t understand, and I don’t bother to try and work it out. I get that he cares, but for once in my life, I just want someone to believe in me the way I am.

I glance back over my shoulder and see Josh still standing there, watching me as I walk away. He’s always been the type to ensure I make it home safe, and for the longest time, I never understood why. These days, he could rival the strength of just about anyone that might want to cause someone harm. He’s kind of like my guardian angel, albeit stubborn and annoying sometimes.

“Please be safe,” he calls out from behind me.

I throw a little wave and keep going, turning the corner at the end of the next block. My apartment is only four blocks from here, and I’ll be home safe and sound before Josh even makes it halfway back to his fancy-ass apartment on the upper west side. His parents had the money to invest in his bar, while mine didn’t even have enough to help me fly home for the holidays. Josh usually tries to get the bill. But I never let him.

My footsteps echo into the night, and as I make it past another block, I suddenly realize that the streets are now devoid of people. I don’t let it bother me. However…

Something else does.

That feeling is back, and the hair on the back of my neck is standing on end again. I swallow the knot in my throat, my pulse throbbing in my temple. It’s just in your head.

But, it doesn’t feel like it’s in my head.

I reach into my back pocket and pull out the pepper spray, clutching it so tightly that my hand cramps. Three blocks to go. That’s it. I quicken my pace, though not so much that someone would necessarily grow suspicious that I have noticed them. If someone is lurking in the shadows, I don’t want them to think I’m onto them. I just want to make it home, where I can triple lock my apartment.

As I make it past another block, I hear the thud of heavy footsteps behind me. It sounds as if someone is marching, stomping their feet so that I can’t miss the sound. I don’t look back. I don’t give them that satisfaction. I just find the trigger on my pepper spray and prepare for something very bad to happen.

Then the noise stops.

I glance over my shoulder, and no one is there…

But now someone is whistling. A sick, low tune fills the air around me, and it’s enough to do me in. I break into a sprint, my feet pounding the pavement as I rush towards my apartment complex. I shoot another glance over my shoulder, and my heart stops.

A shadow of a man is standing only six or so feet away, and as the door buzzer sounds, letting me know that the door is unlocked for me to enter, he lifts his head, revealing a grinning skeleton mask.

As I reach for the handle, and whip the door open, he keeps whistling the same low, revolting tune. I pull the door closed as he starts toward me again, and manage to get the door shut just as he presses a black gloved hand to the glass.

I back away, and then hold up my pepper spray. The door stays locked without the code, but that doesn’t stop the fear from coursing through my body. He tilts his head dramatically and then, in a sardonic, cruel, and deep tone…

He fucking laughs.