His smile widens. It stretches across his mouth, unnatural and unnerving. “Straight to the point. I like that.” He leans forward. “Tell me, are you also this direct when you fuck?”
My face heats, but I keep my expression neutral. I’ve faced monsters before… except none like him. Ghost is different—he’s a master at this game, a predator who thrives on getting under people’s skin, on twisting the knife just to watch them bleed.
I won’t give him that satisfaction.
The familiar tug of professionalism pulls me back to center,grounding me even as his stare has my skin prickling. “Let’s stick to the matter at hand. Anna Lee. What do you know?”
“This isn’t just about what I know. It’s about what you’re willing to do to get that information.”
“What do you want?”
He chuckles softly. “All in good time, but first, a little conversation.”
“Fine.” I clench my hands under the table. “What do you want to talk about?”
“You, Dr. Andrews.”
I blink at him one too many times, the tiny crack in my composure betraying me. Ghost’s smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it deepens, as if he’s pleased with himself for getting a reaction, however small.
“We both know that I’m not here to discuss myself,” I say, keeping the tremor out of my voice as much as I can manage. He’s watching me too closely, reading every microexpression I try to suppress.
“But that’s where you’re wrong,” he replies, his tone soft, almost coaxing. “You think you’re here for the girl, and maybe you are. But really, this is about you. It’salwaysbeen about you.”
I force myself to breathe evenly, to stay calm. Later, I can think about the repercussions of what it means to have an insane killer fixated on me. Later I can berate myself for my growing fascination with him. But for now, I need to get through this interaction without losing myself in the process.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You’re the one I wanted to see, Dr. Andrews. Not the police, not the lawyers.You. You’ve been on my mind for alongtime.”
Unease runs through me, and I can’t help but wonder how much of this was planned, how long he’s been toying with the idea of meeting me.
“You’re wasting my time,” I say. “If you have something to say about Anna Lee’s kidnapper, then say it. Otherwise, this meeting is over.”
His confidence doesn’t waver. “You’re so determined, so focused. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But there’s more beneath the surface, isn’t there? So many layers. I wonder what it would take to peel them away.”
“You can play whatever games you want, but you’re not going to get inside my head, Ghost.”
“Aren’t I already?”
CHAPTER 7
GENEVA
“You’re thinking about me.” Ghost’s tone is deceptively gentle. “How I know about you. What I know. What I could do. You’re wondering how much of this was planned, how much control you really have. And that’s the beauty of it, Dr. Andrews. The more you try to resist, the deeper I’ll dig.”
He’s not entirely wrong, but I can’t let him know that. I exhale slowly before speaking. “Let’s say you’re right, and I want to know everything about you. None of that matters if you’re not willing to share, which leaves us at an impasse. So, all we have left to discuss is Anna Lee.”
Ghost clicks his tongue in admonishment. “Always so professional, so distant. Look at your clothes, your hair, your mouth.” His eyes drop down to my lips. “All very restrained. But that’s what fascinates me about you. You’re like ice—cold, impenetrable. I can see why men struggle to connect with you. It must be exhausting for them, trying to break through that frosty exterior of yours.”
My jaw aches from clenching it. Inside I’m screaming. The sheer audacity of his assumptions, the way he’s turning thisconversation into something personal, something intimate—it’s fucking with me.
And I’ve only been in his presence for ten minutes.
“What’s it like, Dr. Andrews?” Ghost continues, his tone light, almost conversational. “To always be in control, to keep everyone at arm’s length? To never let anyone see who you really are? It must be so… lonely.”
My chest tightens, the air around me thickening, making it hard to breathe. He’s clawing at one of the few vulnerable places in my life, causing emotional damage to rise and flow like blood from a wound.
“You’re projecting,” I say. “Just because you’re isolated doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”
