You’re beautiful.
Shame hits me. I’m masturbating to the thought of a suspect. And last night, I let him get me off and then some.
I’m here. I’m going to give you everything.
I’ve never come so hard.
How is it I’m so at ease in the arms of a killer?
My phone rumbles with a text. I reach for it, thinking it might be Mina asking for more information.
Sir: Did you sleep well?
I’m confused until I see the name of the person texting me. Sir.A tremor runs through me.
He put himself in my phone and had the gall to name himself Sir.
Will you let yourself go, let yourself be mine?
I let myself succumb to him, submit to the fantasy. And now, in the cold morning light, I know the truth.
This is all a game. He knows how to draw me in.
My lungs twist, and it’s hard to breathe. Everything I’ve yearned for, he served up on a silver platter. But I am the one on the menu. My fear, my longing—delicacies to a sadist like him.
The question is, why? Why is he doing this?
I enjoy hunting. And you are the perfect prey.Damn him.
The ceiling and corners of the room hold nothing but white crown molding. No cameras. Is he watching me, even now? Or did the concierge report to him?
He’s rich enough to afford both tech and spies and smart enough to remain ten steps ahead.
He hacked my phone. I should block him.
But no. His number is data, and I can use data to build a case.
I need to stay calm. Logical. I need all my faculties focused and firing if I’m going to beat him.
And I will beat him. I don’t care if he’s the richest and best-prepared adversary I’ve gone after. No one is above the law. Justice comes for us all.
I enjoy hunting. And you are the perfect prey.
He’s about to find that this prey has teeth.
A knock on the door signals room service. I leap out of bed, ignoring the pain singing through me, and grab a bathrobe.
Breakfast is a smorgasbord. Coffee, tea, juice. Delectable little muffins with tiny pots of marmalade. Fluffy scrambled eggs. Enough food for three people and another vase with a sprig of jasmine.
While I eat, I use my phone to do some digging of my own. I won’t get as deep as Mina, who trolls the hellish depths of the dark web like a demon, but I have to do something. I need to know details about him like he knew about me.
He knew my dress size. And that jasmine is my favorite flower. I find that more disturbing than him knowing my past. About. . .Elyria.
I scroll through his Wikipedia page. Born a few years before me. Scion of the rich Roy family. They’re the sort of old money who can afford to have a family crest. Red and gold with a roaring lion. Like the lions on his cufflinks and the lions that adorned the straps of my dress.
He can’t help marking me in any way possible.
I fight the urge to snarl and scroll further. The article links to James and Mona Roy, Rex Roy’s parents, now deceased.
