chapter 7

I clear my throat. "Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent. I have shit to do, Anni."

"Typical fucking Dion," I mutter, but make sure to keep my voice loud enough for him to hear.

He huffs an indignant, humorless laugh but he still doesn't look at me.

"Thanks," I hiss, but when I turn to leave, I'm reminded of the sores I have on my bare feet.

"What the hell happened to you?"

I don't even have to turn back to know his eyes are on me. I can feel them drilling into my back like heated lasers.

Before I can tell him to fuck off, he grunts.

"Jude can you take care of this."

This.

Like I'm a nuisance, and he can't wait to be rid of me. Yep, definitely a mistake coming here.

If it were humanly possible, steam would be rolling out of my ears with how pissed he's making me. Apparently, it's only his looks that have changed. Now he's not just forty more pounds of muscle, but clearly, he's twice the asshole I remember as well.

"Really?" I ask as I turn back to face him.

I wonder how much jail time I'd get if I clawed his damn eyes out.

"Tell me about Dona's involvement with other men," Dion demands before the guy on the sofa across the room can make it in our direction. He pauses, almost comically once Dion begins talking again.

I glare at him. "Her relationships with men are not any of your damn business."

How shitty of a friend does it make me if I tell him I haven't spoken to her at length for quite a while, and I don't have a clue who she's been dating? Some damn best friend I am, right?

"Jealousy didn't look good on you fifteen years ago, and it still isn't winning you any awards no matter how strong your damn jaw is now."

Internally, I kick myself for letting that slip out.

Dion's lip twitches, but the fire never stops burning in his eyes. His face returns to anger when someone on the other side of the room tries to cover a laugh with a cough. If I had to put money on it, I'd say Brooks was the culprit. He seems like the type to enjoy winding this man up.

My back stiffens, and I hope it makes him believe my refusal to give him any information.

"I'm not a jealous ex, Anni," he seethes. "You called me for help, remember? Dona wasn't the one injured in the condo. I've had one of my guys try to reach out to her and the cops answered her phone from inside her apartment. They don't know where she is. Do you?"

He had one of his guys try to call her.

For some reason that seems to make a lot of difference right now. Maybe I was mistaken on the jealousy.

I look down at my own phone in my hands. I hadn't tried to call my best friend because I was so certain that she was the one being taken to the hospital. Knowing the police have her phone will keep me from ever calling her number again.

"Where is she?" I ask like he didn't just tell me he didn't know.

"Anni," he growls.

Knowing that I'm irritating him just as much as he's irritating me makes me stupidly giddy. Just like old times.

"Who was the guy in her condo? Is she dating thugs now?" He shakes his head on a huff. "I wouldn't put it past her. Slumming has always been her kind of thing."

I could argue with him, remind him that he's the only man without money Dona ever showed an interest in, but right now doesn't seem like the time. It was always a point of contention between the two.

"I don't know who it was. I thought it was her, remember?"

This conversation is going absolutely nowhere.

"If it wasn't Dona, then I'm just going to go home."

I don't exactly relish the idea of walking out of here on bare, injured feet, but the fear I felt in my apartment earlier has been replaced with anger at being around Dion once again, and that's enough irritation to keep me going for a lifetime. The relief that it isn't Dona also makes my lungs seize and my eyes burn with unshed tears. I'd like to have my breakdown in private because I don't put it past this jerk to gain comic relief from my pain.

"You're not going anywhere," he snaps before I can even get fully turned away from him.

"Excuse me." I spin around and nearly lose my balance. Dion lifts an arm to catch me, but I'm lucky enough to manage it on my own without him putting his hand on me. I wouldn't be able to stand even that miniscule amount of help from him.

"You're hurt—"

"Blisters from shoes aren't exactly a fatal wound."

"—and until we know what the hell—"

"I'll be fine."

"—is going on, it may not be safe going back to your building."

We talk over each other, but I still hear what he says.

"Not safe?" I question, and just with his simple words, I grow frightened again.

I may lose my mind before all of this mess is over with. My emotions are firing a million miles an hour, and I don't have a damn clue where it's going to land next.

"There was so much blood, Dion." I lower my head and look down at my phone and shoes in my hands. "The EMTs' gloves were covered in it. Cops were everywhere. If it wasn't her, where is she?"

His throat works on a swallow as tears begin to roll down my cheeks. "I don't know, but you're stuck here until we figure it out. Let Jude get those wounds cleaned up. You won't be walking any runways if they get infected."

My jaw hangs open, but he doesn't even notice because in a blink, he's disappearing into an office on the other side of the room. How much does he remember? How much did he pay attention to me way back when? He knew I wanted to be a model? A pipe dream that never came to fruition, but still. He remembered? I can't even allow myself to be angry that his words were another barb, another insult about the differences in our lives.