Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Poppy

Julian was stuck in his office with his brothers and a handful of other people for the rest of the day. The entire time, I got nothing done. How could I work knowing someone sent creepy, stalker-like pictures of Kent to Julian?

I have an idea that's like a bad rash. It keeps spreading. Should I tell Harper? Surely, she could poke around and help out.

Although I don't want to go behind Julian's back, I should ask him.

Before I left, he snuck out, remaining more professional than he ever had been. I caught two men I had never seen inside his office watching me. They looked young, fit, and deadly. One looked like the actor Jason Statham, only more serious.

Julian wanted the Jason Statham one to drive me home, but I refused. A fact that made Statham look suspicious. Did he think I had something to do with this?

I'm just the secretary...and the neighbor...and the woman he is dating.

I needed something pumpkin-flavored to calm me down.

I wanted to walk to the bus because I needed space to clear my head. This all was insane but, at the same time, reassuring. I wasn't the only person who was threatened by a monster. Julian was, too.

I pray that his monster will go away just like mine did.

As I walked to the bus stop, I did the one thing an innocent person should not do. I kept looking over my shoulder the entire time, thinking Statham would pop out from a bush and tackle me, then accuse me of sending Julian the photos of Kent.

I could never take creepy stalker photos; I rely on the autofocus on my phone's camera. My idea of zooming in is to take a photo and then crop it closer.

When I arrive at my apartment, I become paranoid that the bird in the tree is equipped with a camera and will take photos of me to send to Julian.

I run my hand through my hair, worried I'll spot grey hair amidst all this stress. The elevator to my apartment opens, and I feel my shoulders sink. I need a long, hot shower with my pumpkin spice shower gel, a cozy matching pajama set, and a good chick flick to calm me down.

However, a scream rips from my lips when a shadow shifts down the hall. I instantly reconsider my pumpkin spice therapy, contemplating switching to a glass of wine or even a whole bottle.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." A male voice shouts.

The voice belongs to a man leaving my apartment! My sagging shoulders go rigid. Our eyes clash, and he must see my fear.

I grip my purse tighter. Damn it! Why the hell didn't I shove that wasp spray into my bag?

"Building Maintenance." He holds up his free hand in a gesture of innocence. "I take it by the look of panic you're," he starts, reaching into an old, beat-up greasy tool bag and pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper. "Poppy Moore, homeowner of Penthouse 12B." He reads from the sheet.

I exhale, a bit more at ease, knowing he isn't here to rob the place. "Yes. Is something the matter?" I question.

My eyes narrow. He's got on long grey cargo pants that have seen better days and a navy collar shirt with the logo of our complex on it. His black baseball cap covers his forehead and most of his eyes.

"We tried to call you, but Maintenance has the right to enter when it is emergent." He replies.

I glance at the wall as if I can see through it. Did I leave the oven on? What did I do?

I begin to close the distance. "What happened?" The panic starts pumping in my blood.

"You did nothing," he reassures, reaching into his bag again. "Faulty sprinkler heads. You happened to be one of the few who had the recalled models. They have a faulty valve switch, causing it to flick on. Flooded the apartment on floor three."

My concern grows as I inch closer. "Oh my God, that's awful. What should I do?" This is precisely what I wanted to avoid by getting a brand-new apartment. I'm not handy at all. I have a glue gun, possibly some super glue. Could that hold a leaky pipe until I call a professional?

"Nothing, I fixed it all. I had to shut off the water in your apartment to fix it, but it's back on now, so run the facets for a few minutes before you drink it. It's all set." He grabs a pen from his pocket. "Can I get an updated number for you? I hate barging in. I usually call a few times before I'm forced to enter. Your number wasn't on file, and we didn't want to risk the water turning on and flooding your place."

"Sure," I reply, giving him my number. "I just moved, so they probably haven't gotten my number on the files yet. Thanks for fixing it and saving me from the cleanup."

"It's my job. Better than a plumbing issue." He jokes.

I grimace.

"So, I don't need to do anything? My apartment isn't going to turn into a shower, right?"

He dips his chin. "No, ma'am, I'm all finished, so I'll be on my way. It's been a long day."

I nod. "Well, thank you," I say as he walks down the hall. I grab the door handle and check that he locked it before I unlock it.

I'm a little creeped out that he just let himself in, but that's not unusual when living in a building. I close the door and lock it, but then I stare at the lock. What's stopping him or anyone else from getting a copy of my key to enter?

"You're going insane," I state out loud. I've just been listening to horror stories Harper tells me.

That's what I tell myself as I check room to room, looking at the sprinkler heads and ensuring nothing is stolen. Then, I turn the knob and step into the shower, but end up running soaking wet with a towel wrapped around myself as I drag a chair in front of my door. This way, if someone opens it, it will knock it over, and at least I'll hear.

What then, Poppy? You have no weapon except the wasp spray.

"Shit," I mumble. Maybe I should do the wise thing and start learning how to defend myself and not just run away.