The Fearless King (The Kings #2)(19)

But Journey couldn’t guarantee it.

And because she couldn’t, she wasn’t willing to take a chance.

She stared at Frank’s name on her phone. It had been two days since they spoke last. Maybe now was the time to call and figure out the first step in his plan.

Someone knocked on the door as she walked out of the bedroom. Journey froze, trapped between the desire to dive back under her covers and pretend not to be home and the need to not act like a goddamn victim another goddamn second.

She took the first step, and then another, making her way past the kitchen to the front door. What the hell? Journey paid through the nose for this place in large part because of its excellent security. No one should be able to get to her floor without being buzzed up first. Whoever was on the other side knocked again, more insistently this time.

It’s a trap.

She edged closer to the door, as if whoever was on the other side could burst through at any moment despite the heavy-duty dead bolt. A quick check through the peephole had her heart slamming into her throat. No.

Her father braced a hand on the door and smiled. “I know you’re in there, sweetheart.”

There was no use pretending she wasn’t. He wouldn’t have shown up unless he was sure she’d be here. Journey rested her forehead on the door and closed her eyes. “Go away. I might have to deal with you in the office, but you’re not welcome in my home.” If she concentrated, she could almost pretend the thread of fear in her voice wasn’t there.

“It’s your choice.” Elliott sounded perfectly reasonable. “It’s come to my attention that Eliza is back in town. I’m due for a visit with my wayward youngest after all this time anyway.”

Journey pressed her forehead harder against the door, the throbbing pain doing nothing to diminish her panic. She knew what happened next—what always happened next. No matter how calm or rational he seemed, Elliott would take his anger at Journey out on Eliza. Eliza, who had just arrived back in Houston and would be staying at a hotel. If he could get into Journey’s building without raising any alarms, a hotel would be child’s play.

Her sister would be hurt because Journey was too cowardly to stand her ground.

She took a shuddering breath and threw open the door. “What are you doing here?”

Her father walked into her apartment and shut the door behind him. “We haven’t had a chance to reconnect, sweetheart. We’re due for a talk.”

A talk. She took several large steps back, edging toward the kitchen island. “You’re here. Talk. Then leave.”

“I’ll leave—when I’m finished.” He didn’t move from his spot, his gaze sliding over her living room and kitchen, tainting everything in its wake. The fact that he was here at all contaminated her safe space.

She glanced over her shoulder, weighing the chance of making it to her bedroom and locking the door behind her. While the outer door to the main hallway was reinforced, the interior doors weren’t. Easy enough to kick down if he’s motivated. No, she’d have to see this through one way or another. She tried to swallow past her fear. “What do you want, Elliott?”

“Elliott,” he mimicked. His easy smile didn’t reach his eyes as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Is something wrong, sweetheart? You’re acting rather combative considering all I’ve done is stand here.”

He’s baiting you.

She gritted her teeth. There might not be any witnesses, but any reaction would only encourage him.

Doesn’t matter. React now or react later when he escalates. He always gets what he wants.

A sob caught in her chest, and she couldn’t hold her ground any longer. Journey walked to the fridge, putting the kitchen island between them—and putting herself within reaching distance of the knife block on the counter. The knife wouldn’t help. She’d watched enough true crime shows to know his superior reach and strength would only turn the weapon against her. It still made her feel better. A gun would be better.

She took her time pouring herself a glass of orange juice. Treat him like a hostile employee. It wouldn’t work for long, but it gave her the ability to clip out her words. “It’s my day off and you’re in my home, uninvited. Forgive me if my attitude is not up to par, but we don’t have a relationship outside of work, and we will continue not having a relationship outside of work. If you have a concern within the confines of Kingdom Corp, you’re welcome to email me and I’ll take care of it as quickly as feasibly possible.”

Elliott laughed, the sound oozing across the distance between them. “Fuck, you really are Lydia incarnate, aren’t you?” He stalked closer and stopped just on the other side of the island as if gauging how quickly he could get around it. “You’re just as much of a bitch as she ever was.” His smile took on a sly edge. “But we already knew that, didn’t we? If it was possible to cure you of that particular personality trait, my methods would have worked when you were a child.”

All the air disappeared from the room. She grabbed the edge of the counter to stay on her feet, but it didn’t stop her from swaying. “Fuck. You.”

“Is that any way to talk to your beloved father?”

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do more than watch him round the corner of the island as he approached her. Journey tensed, a sound coming out of her mouth like a trapped animal. “Don’t touch me.”