Ruthless Revenge

Chapter 14

Katiana's POV

I was cleaning the kitchen sink when someone pounded on the door as if they were trying to smash it down. Worried the racket might wake the kids, I quickly removed my rubber gloves and hurried to the door.

"Coming,"

'Who is it?' I called softly, trying to keep my voice down.

But I heard no response.

I slid the door chain along its protective channel and then turned my attention to the lock. In my nervous haste, my fingers fumbled with the latch and it took me two attempts to get the door open.

I was quite unprepared to find Holden standing on the doorstep. For one stunned second all I could do was gape up at him.

Then I dragged in a breath,

Although I hadn't invited him in, Holden swept past me into the apartment.

I frowned and closed the door then turned to him.

After staring at me long and hard, he looked around.

"You live here?" The slight emphasis he'd given the last word managed to convey exactly what he thought of the apartment. I followed his gaze. I had to admit the carpet needed replacing. It was threadbare in places and stained in others. The walls were also long overdue for a coat of paint.

This apartment was the best I could get with my wage. The condition of the apartment

It would be generous to call my stuff 'second hand'. I was probably its third or fourth owner, each piece displaying a series of dents and scratches from each of its previous lives.

But so what?

If he looked hard enough, Holden would notice what was really important. And that was that I kept the place immaculately clean and tidy.

I tossed my head, angled my chin into the air, and said coolly, "Yes, this is where I live. Sorry if it's not up to your high standards, but we can't all be as rich as you. What are you doing here, H...Mr. Styles?"

I looked down at his attire and frowned. He had on a tank top, running shorts, and sneakers. Skimpy running- running that left very little to the imagination. A white tank-top bore the steely strength of his broad, bronzed shoulders, and shorts left the hair-roughened length of his powerful legs free for my hungry gaze to feast upon.

In an instant, my mouth was parchment dry and my heart was beating ninety-to-the dozen. "Holden?' I prompted when he failed to answer me.

Suddenly I realized that I'd been staring at Holden as he'd been staring just as hard at me.

In my eagerness to open the door before Kieran was disturbed, I forgot I was wearing my oldest sports bra, my stomach exposed. The sports bra was tatty and worn, and the purple was no longer sharp but faded. I'd taken my shirt off a while ago; scrubbing was hot work.

If my outfit wasn't bad enough, my hair had fallen out of the clip I'd used to fasten it to the top of my head. It was now half up and half down, with several strands sticking to my cheeks.

I cringed inside at my dowdy appearance and then immediately reprimanded myself. Who cared what Holden thought?

It wasn't as though he meant anything to me anymore.

"What are you doing here, Holden?"

Holden stared at me with hooded eyes, then said abruptly, 'I thought you lived alone.'

I blinked at the comment. "I do. Apart from Kieran, of course," I said, trying to ignore how primal and potently make Holden look.

His eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn't quite define. "Then whose T-shirt is that?" he asked pointing to the grey T-shirt that was hanging over the couch.