“Where’s the rest?” the thief demands, holding out a grubby hand for the cash that’s still tucked away in my wallet.
“You hurt her.” The words are smooth and amiable as they leave my tongue.
He doesn’t read the condemnation in my calm tone.
Keeping one hand outstretched for the money, he swipes at his sweaty brow with the other, leaving a smudge of dirt behind.
The man is filth, and I don’t bother to hide the disdain in my sneer.
The plan had been for him to steal her wallet so that I could swoop in and save her. If she sees me as her protector, she’ll start to depend on me. She’ll welcome me into her life and be grateful for my help.
Instead, she’d seemed angry that I tried to help her recoup her lost funds. She refused to allow me to buy her paintings.
Something hot simmers in my veins, and my muscles flex with mounting aggression.
“She tried to block my exit,” the thief insists, his frantic gaze searching my body as though X-raying me for my wallet. “I toldyou that I didn’t want to get caught.” His eyes narrow on mine when I don’t hand over the cash immediately. “We had a deal. You owe me the other half.”
“The deal was for you to steal her purse. I warned you not to damage anything. You damagedher.”
The faint pink scratches on her palms flash through my thoughts, and a strange red haze descends over my vision.
My fist smashes into his jaw, and his head jerks back. He crumples to the dirty pavement, momentarily stunned from the blow. My designer leather boot kicks his soft belly, and his shocked cry dies as his diaphragm spasms. Another clinically placed kick to his kidneys ensures that he’ll be pissing blood tomorrow.
He gasps, but he can’t inhale the air he needs to groan in pain.
Something savage heats my chest, a visceral sensation I’ve never experienced before. I’ve known satisfaction in my life, but never anything like this. I imagine this must be what Roman gladiators felt in the arena: pure, primal bloodlust.
I haven’t allowed myself true violence since I was a very young child, when my family first noticed my abnormality. I quickly learned to hide my disconcerting nature. My mother made sure I knew how important it was to conceal the monster within.
But as the thief’s teeth rattle beneath the impact of my boot, I let the mask fall away entirely. I’m fully myself for the first time in my adult life: cruel, powerful, and vicious.
And it’s all because ofher.
The memory of her wide, aquamarine eyes fills my mind, and I fixate on the hint of trepidation that tightened the fine lines around them. Back in the market, I allowed my frustration to crack my charming façade, and she’d been observant enough to sense the danger lurking inside me.
Abigail desires me, but part of her also fears me.
I’ve never wanted her more than I do in this moment. My blood runs hot in my veins, and my cock stiffens at the thought of claiming her while she looks up at me with that intoxicating mix of trepidation and longing.
The thief moans when I drop the hundred-dollar bills on his shaking body. I barely notice him anymore. As I turn on my heel and stride out of the dank alley, all I can think about is Abigail.
She wouldn’t let me buy her paintings. My grand gesture was completely ruined by her stubborn will. I’m still irritated, but now that I’ve purged the vicious feelings that’d overtaken me, I’m more fascinated than ever.
Clearly, she needs the money. But she wouldn’t accept my help.
Out of pride? Or something deeper?
I recall the way her shoulders straightened as she stared me down like a defiant queen. That woman wasn’t the same person as the cheerful barista who shyly greets me at the café every morning.
I’m more determined than ever to win her over so that I can learn all of her secrets.
11
ABBY
Ismooth my dress, ensuring that it’s wrinkle-free. I’m wearing one of my only designer outfits—a gem of a find from an upscale consignment shop off King Street. The silky, royal blue material skims my modest curves, and the high halter-neck design is demure enough to make the garment classy despite the thigh-high slit at the left side. The dress dips into a low V at the back, and the warm evening air caresses my bare skin.
I hesitate just inside the entrance to The Magnolia, the boutique hotel with a rooftop bar where I was supposed to meet Dane eight minutes ago.
