Scarlett POV
Only one person on the planet rang a doorbell like he was trying to break both the mechanism and my last remaining nerve at once.
I yanked it open, ready to tell my ex-husband exactly where he could shove his recorder.
And found the building manager instead, looking deeply uncomfortable, clipboard held like a shield.
“Miss Ravencroft. Your upstairs neighbor leaks. I tried calling twice. No answer. Had to come up.”
Right.
Because every time my phone rang these days, I assumed it was Jaxen and let it die face-down on the nightstand.
Some leftover scrap of awareness still prickled along the back of my neck whenever he was close. I hated that it still worked.
I let them in.
Five minutes later they were gone, already on the phone with the unit above me, promising the wat
