Part of Your World

Flounder

"This is where you live? Jesus Christ," I growled, running my hand through my hair in agitation. If I didn't get shot, if my car didn't get stolen or my hubcaps swiped—I'd count it as a good day. Claire glared at me.

"Not all of us are millionaires," she said.

"Billionaire, actually."

"And so humble, to boot," she said, sarcasm coating her tone as she exited my car. I followed, eyeing the group of men at the end of the street, a clear warning in my gaze. She fumbled for her keys as she jaunted down the steps. Of course it would be a hole in the fucking ground, their apartment. Garbage tumbled by with the breeze as the rain let up, and a man being tugged along by his pitbull whistled at Claire as she dropped her keys and bent over to retrieve them.

I turned, sticking my hand in my jeans pocket and opening my jacket a bit, flashing my sidearm. He turned the corner with a look of fear in his eyes. My lips curled into a dark smirk.

"How have you not been murdered, or at least mugged?" I growled. She stuck the keys in, jiggling the old brass handle. I eyed the rusted bars on their window with disdain. Something as pitiful as that wouldn't stop a man like myself, and New York was full of them, most without a shred of decency or conscience.

"We have good neighbors upstairs, but they moved out last week."

I snorted.

She gave the door a shove, and I was surprised to be greeted by an ample amount of light and the gentle scent of coconuts. I followed her inside, the space quaint but clean, what little there was neat and tucked away. A candle flickered on their squat coffee table, and a light from the back hallway indicated Aria was within reach. I bit down the urge to go find her, gripping her violin case so tight my knuckles ached.

"Ar," Claire called. A single knock sounded on the wall. Claire snorted, turning to me.

"One knock means she's changing," she explained. I felt my lips tug up in a small smile.

"We have a visitor, hurry your ass up," she said, motioning to the love seat, the only other furniture in the room.

"I think I'd better stay near the door, in case she tries to assault me," I said.

"I hope she does," Claire said, dropping her bag and hanging up her jacket. I snorted. I hoped she would, too. I wouldn't mind letting her dominate me every now and then. I stiffened as she emerged from the short hallway, wearing a velvet overall dress, the color of rust, with a long sleeve cream turtleneck beneath. It complimented her hair. Her eyes widened, and she turned her gaze to Claire with a pointed look, signing something quick.

"He has your violin. Well, a new violin. Some bimbo decided she was threatened by your oh so intimidating presence," Claire teased, opening the fridge and rooting around. Aria's eyes flashed to mine, cheeks reddening.

What? she mouthed to me, face contorted in confusion. I held up the case before I bent and set it down, keeping my distance.

"I bought you a new one. I apologize. Her actions were uncalled for, but I took care of it," I said. She fiddled with the sleeves of her shirt. Claire emerged from the fridge, bottles of sparkling water in hand.

"Well, have a seat, she's clearly not going to attack you. She's too afraid," Claire joked. Aria hugged herself, glaring at her friend in desperation. I quirked my brow at her. Claire sighed.

"Listen, Ar, we talked for a while and...well, Maks has a job opening for you, if you're willing. Right, Maks?" she said, turning the tables onto me.

I tugged at my hair, itching for a cig.

"I do," I nodded. Her pleading, sea foam green eyes fell to her friend, befuddled. She gave a slight shake of her head. Claire sat, twisting the top of her bottle, deep brown eyes finding mine and pleading.