Regardless, this can’t happen.

His fingers clumsily seek between my thighs, and I fight back. I let my clutch fall to the floor as I raise my hands to break his hold. I windmill my arms and collide against his iron hold.

He shoves his knees between my legs and flattens his body against mine, preventing a second attempt. “Oh, you like it rough, baby. I can get rough.”

Completely inappropriately, I roll my eyes. I can’t help it. What’s worse than a rapist? A rapist who quotes clichés.

He slams the back of my head against the wall, and my vision wavers. I feel the material along the slit of my dress rip; his greedy hands fondle my ass. I should find a way out of this situation that doesn’t jeopardize the job, but my self-preservation rears.

I wedge my hands up to find his face and dig my thumbs into his eye sockets.

He howls and stumbles backward. As he tries to clear his vision, I move in and knee him in the balls for good measure before I retrieve my purse and escape.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

I exit the VIP lounge and weave through gyrating bodies, not looking back.

It’s fucked.

Before I leave the club, I glance back once in the direction of the VIP. I don’t spot Ericson, nor do I see the damn asshole that cock-blocked my target to begin with.

I’m tempted to march right to the closet and demand answers. Or drive the three-inch heel of my Louis Vuitton pump into his balls. Both would give me equal satisfaction right now. But that’s not part of the contingency plan.

My hard rule is always to abort. Anything goes wrong, get out.

So that’s what I do.

As I take a turn around the bend of a corner grocery shop, I adjust the torn skirt of my dress to be less noticeable, then I dig out the pocket watch. I click the top toggle and it springs open. The flashing marquee lights glare against the glass face.

I slow my steps as I rub my thumb over the pewter. On the back of the cover is an engraving. I bring the watch closer, using the neon light as an aid to read the inscription.

To my brother, the only other mind I admire.

Curious. A little clue about my stalker. Who are you?

I hold on to the watch as I navigate the sidewalks toward my loft. The crowd swallows me quickly, and I disappear into the sea of people walking the streets.

Collect

Alex

I’m not sentimental by nature. A lifetime of study in biochemistry and biophysics has taught me that nothing is static. Everything around us is in a constant flux of evolution.