Chapter 3: Chapter 3

I’m playing with fire, and while self-preservation screams for me to get out of the studio and back to work, I don’t stop because the way Mr. La Rosa looks at me makes me feel hot and bothered.

An intense sexual tension keeps building between us until I’m contemplating throwing caution to the wind and flirting with the man.

Maybe I could risk a one-night stand with him?

Nope. Not risking my job.

Breaking out of the trance the man has me in, I stop dancing and head to the table where my phone is. I disconnect it from the speakers, and silence falls heavily around me.

I can feel Mr. La Rosa’s eyes burning into my back, and it makes the heat in my abdomen increase with intensity.

I suck in a couple of deep breaths before I turn around and walk toward the doorway. He straightens up from where he’s leaning against the doorjamb, and a mischievous smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Are you going to tell me your name tonight?” he asks, his voice deep and rough.

Having anonymity on my side, I feel way too brave for my own good.

Stopping inches away from him, I slowly tilt my head back while a seductive smile curls my lips up. “No.” The single word is breathless and filled with heat.

Mr. La Rosa’s eyes sharpen on my face. “I like a challenge.”

I move forward, and as I pass by him, my shoulder brushes against his arm as I say, “Good for you.”

As I walk down the hallway, I hear him say, “Same time, same studio, tomorrow night.”

“We’ll see,” I reply.

The instant I disappear around the corner, I lift my hand to my chest and suck in deep breaths.

What the hell am I doing? Risking my job like this is stupid.

Still… Having Mr. La Rosa’s attention on me feels too good to resist.

Ugh. Now I’m drooling over him, just like all the other dancers at the company.

Only, I’m not one of his dancers. I’m his janitor.

Reaching my locker, I change out of the shorts and shirt and into my regular clothes and apron. When I’ve tied my hair and put on the cap with the company logo, I check my cleaning cart while I give Mr. La Rosa some time to leave.

Feeling I need to wait an extra ten minutes, I pull the paper bag with the food I brought from the diner out of the locker.

I’m so tired of diner food, but I have no time to cook and zero money to buy something healthier.

A free meal is a free meal.

I open the container, and taking the plastic fork from the bag, I shovel some spaghetti and meatballs into my mouth.

While I eat, my thoughts revolve around Mr. La Rosa as if it’s stuck on spin cycle.

Dario.

I like his name.

And the way the man fills a suit. Yum.

His tousled hair makes my fingers itch to find out if the strands are as thick as they look.

And his eyes. Boy, do those eyes possess a magnetic pull that’s hard to resist.

I wonder what his reaction would be if he found out I’m a janitor and not a professional ballerina.

The man is so far out of my league we might as well be from different solar systems.

That fact alone should be enough to deter me from ever crossing paths with him again. Never mind that he’s my boss and so high up the food chain, I’m not even privileged enough to eat his scraps.

I use the fork to break a meatball in half and shove a piece into my mouth.

Jaden put too much tomato paste in the sauce again. It’s the last time I’m taking the spaghetti and meatballs. The man, who’s the only cook at the diner, makes a mean cheese and bacon burger, though, but I can’t eat that every day.

Putting the rest of the food away, I drink some water straight from the faucet by the sink before pushing the cleaning cart into the hallway. I mop everywhere, then retrieve the floor polisher from the supply room.

I put my earbuds in and press play on my playlist before I switch the machine on. With the handle vibrating in my grip, my thoughts keep straying, and I find myself thinking way too much of Dario La Rosa.

I’m pretty sure he also feels attracted to me. At least, the version of me he’s seen dancing in the studio.

I let out a snort when I think about how quickly he’d lose interest if he had to see me now.

The thought isn’t upsetting, because I don’t waste time wishing for things I can’t have. I focus on my reality, and the fact that I’m able to pay my bills is all that matters.

I might be poor but things can always be worse.

Thinking of worse. I haven’t seen Mandy, my birthgiver, in a long while.

My eyebrow lifts for a moment, but I seriously couldn’t care less about the woman.

Movement catches my eye, and when I see Mr. La Rosa exiting one of the offices, I frantically glance around for a place to hide.

Not wanting to draw his attention, I duck my head low and hope to all that’s holy he doesn’t take notice of me.

He walks toward me, but the stars are on my side when he heads up a hallway toward the entrance of the building.

Thank God for small mercies.

Pushing the floor polisher forward, I peek up the other hallway and drink in the sight of Mr. La Rosa’s broad shoulders.

Forget about the man, Eden. It’s a waste of time.

After my shift at the diner, I open my front door and step inside my apartment. My eyes instantly lock on the busted windowpane that’s been jimmied open. A crowbar lies on the floor, and it has anger pouring through me like hot lava.

After a grueling day at work, this is the last thing I have energy for, and I know who the culprit is.

“Mandy,” I shout, and not seeing the pain in my ass in the living room or kitchen, I rush in the direction of my bedroom.

I swear, if she’s in my bed, I’m going to lose my ever-loving shit.

“Mandy!” Not finding her there, I head to the bathroom, where I find the god-awful woman passed out on the floor with an empty bottle of cheap rum lying beside her.

“Wake up!” I demand while I nudge her stinking ass with the toe of my sneaker. “Mandy. Wake up and get out of my place.”

She doesn’t budge at all, and not tolerating her for a second longer, I grab hold of her ankles and begin to drag her toward the front door.

“Over my dead body, am I letting you sleep here. I want you gone. Forever,” I mutter angrily.

When I lug her unconscious ass out into the hallway, Tyrone opens his door. Seeing my mother, drunk off her ass, he just shakes his head, then says, “I’ve made pot roast. Want some before you go to your second job?”

I let go of her ankles, and they land with a thud on the floor. Instantly my mood perks up as I jokingly say, “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

He lets out a chuckle then gestures into his apartment.

I shake my head. “She busted my window. I just want to fix it, then I’ll be over.”

“I’ll take a look,” Tyrone says. “Let me grab my toolbox.”

I give him a wide smile. “You’re so good to me.”

Stepping over Mandy, I head back inside and pick up the crowbar. Shaking my head, I inspect the damage to the windowpane and wonder how we’re going to fix it so Mandy can’t get in again.

“I can nail the thing shut,” Tyrone suddenly says from behind me. “But you won’t be able to use the fire escape to avoid Winston when rent is due.”

“It’s either that, or I’ll have to ask Winston to put in a new window with a lock, which will cost money I don’t have. He sure as hell won’t pay for it.”

I let out a sigh as I watch Tyrone get to work. As long as I’ve known Tyrone, I’ve never seen him with a woman. Whenever I ask him why, he just says he doesn’t have time for a romantic relationship. It’s kind of always been me and him.

He secures the wooden window frame to the windowsill with three long nails, then mutters, “Let’s go eat, baby girl.”

I wrap my arm around his lower back and give him a sideways hug as we walk out of my apartment. I quickly lock the door behind me and side-sidestepping Mandy, we head to Tyrone’s kitchen for a quick bite to eat before I have to leave for my night shift.

When Tyrone pulls a loaded plate of food out of the oven that he was keeping warm for me, there’s a swell of emotion in my heart.

I take the plate with a grateful smile, and walking to the small round table, I grab a seat.

Tyrone grabs two beers from the fridge and comes to join me.

“You still working double shifts at the diner?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

I enjoy a bite of the pot roast while nodding.

“You’re working yourself into the ground,” he mutters. “I made some extra money at the last construction job. Let me help you.”

“No.” I shake my head hard. “I’m not taking your money, Tyrone. You’re not doing any better than me.”

He gives me a pleading look. “We gotta take care of each other. What will I do if you drop dead from exhaustion?”

“You can take Mandy under your wing,” I joke. “She’s always hard up for a place to crash.”

“Don’t even joke about her,” he mumbles before taking a sip of beer. “It’s a fucking miracle she’s still alive.”

“She’s like a weed. Nothing kills that shit.”

He waits for me to help myself to another bite of the healthy and delicious food, then says, “Take the money. It will help me sleep at night because right now, I’m up worrying about your ass.”

Giving him a grateful smile, I shake my head again. “You know I can’t take your money. Besides, I only have to work a double shift for another three months, then I’ll have some savings to fall back on.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he complains.

“Yeah, I know.” Letting out a burst of laughter, I add, “You’re the one who taught me to be stubborn.” I eat for a while, then say, “I want to make Thanksgiving dinner this year.”

“I’ve tasted your cooking, and no offense, but you can’t cook for shit.”

I shoot a playful glare at Tyrone. “Then teach me instead of complaining.”

A smile spreads over his face. “Does that mean you’ll take the day off for Thanksgiving? A turkey takes hours to cook?”

“Shoot,” I mutter. “I didn’t think about that.”

Chuckling, he winks at me. “Then it’s settled. I’ll make Thanksgiving dinner like always.”

“Fine,” I grumble before finishing the rest of my food. “You win.”

I wash the delicious meal down with the beer before I get up to wash the plate and utensils.

“What are you going to do about Mandy?” Tyrone asks from where he’s still sitting at the table.

“Nothing. She can lie in the hallway until Winston throws her out.”

“I’m not talking about that. She keeps coming back and breaking into your place. You still haven’t replaced half the shit she stole the last time she broke in.”

I shrug because there’s not much I can do besides moving, and I’m not doing that.

“This is the first time we’ve seen her in months. With a little luck, she’ll disappear again.”

“You saw the track marks on her arms. What if she owes another dealer money, and they come knocking again? The last time they hurt you.”

Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. I had a black eye for a week.

“All the dealers around here know I don’t have money to pay Mandy’s debts,” I say, even though I know that won’t stop them from busting down my front door.

Damn, I wish the woman would permanently disappear from my life. She’s never done anything for me and only brought me pain and worry.

Finished with the dishes, I dry my hands as I glance at Tyrone. “Don’t worry. One of these days, she won’t bother coming around anymore.”

Tyrone lets out a sigh, and when I head for the front door, he says, “Be careful out there.”

“I will.”

Heading back to my apartment, so I can change into clean clothes for my night shift at the ballet company, I step over Mandy again.

I have to resist the urge not to kick her for all the trouble she keeps causing in my life.