Sorry fucker.
His main motivation is jealousy, that’s clear. If he’s selling Rosalie’s information, then it would explain how he was able to pay off the night guards to make themselves scarce during the break-in. He’s dangerous and the only suspect in this case.
I pull out my phone before typing up a message to a connection that I have. I ask him to look into every last known residence Rosalie’s dad had before tucking my device back into my pocket.
She motions to the food, a little drained. “Dinner is ready.”
Kairo is a lot of things—impatient, hot-tempered, and delusional. But he knows when someone needs a distraction. Rosalie’s past is a heavy weight that settles over her, dampening the light she fought so hard to regain. If anyone can give her reprieve, it’s him.
He smirks. “Was it made with love?”
“It was made with hate,” She deadpans.
“No, it wasn’t,” He says.
And for a moment, the hard stuff is forgotten. She cracks a small smile. It’s fragile, but she’s no longer thinking about her father.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rosalie
I’m groggy, weighed down with sleep as my limbs shift heavily under my duvet, but I know something isn’t right. Even in my state, I remember the last words Roman spoke to me before we all headed off to bed.
Don’t forget to lock your doors.
I did. I locked my bedroom door and my balcony door out of fear. It doesn’t matter if I have nighttime security, because I still don’t know if I can trust them.
The handle to my balcony door wiggles, making a muffled sound, and my heart slams as my eyes shoot open. I bolt up in bed, my heart sinking when I scan the area. It’s dark outside, but it doesn’t shroud the tall, black figure leering behind the double glass doors. What’s even more terrifying is the neon mask over the figure’s face.
It’s illuminated green with Xs over the eyes and a stitching pattern that covers the mouth. I can’t see beyond it, but somehow, I know whoever is on my balcony is staring at me.
The breath escapes past my parted lips as I stare at the intruder. Danger and fear mix like gasoline and fire, igniting my bloodstream. I want to scream, but I can’t. Making one wrong move could cost me my life.
A dark, gloved hand reaches for the balcony handle again. When it doesn’t give, the person slams a fist on the glass, rattling the door and causing me to gasp as I backpedal until I hit the headboard.
Those long, thick fingers unwind from a fist until an open palm rests over the glass. My eyes bounce around everyinch of the man outside of my door, hoping to connect some discernible feature that will tell me who he is.
When my gaze trails to his neck, the only light I have is the green glow of the mask, but it’s all I need. The edge of a familiar raven tattoo pokes out of the collar of the thick jacket he’s wearing, and there’s only one person I know who has that inked onto their skin.
Maddox.
My heart calms as the blood rushing past my ears settles. My first response is anger, and I want to throw the door open and push him off my fucking balcony for scaring me like this. But then another idea strikes, and I can’t help myself.
I don’t know what game he thinks he’s running, but two can play at this. His little stunt in the car earlier is like fuel to me as I slide down the bed until my feet touch the floor and I’m perched on the edge.
“You really want in here, don’t you?” I taunt.
He tilts his head, staring into me.
No answer.
“Too bad,” I mock pout. “I guess you’ll just have to watch from out there.”
I’m glad I chose my nightie to sleep in tonight. It’s cute with a lacy black trim around the bust and a side slit that rides up over my thigh. It’s pale pink and flatters my shape in every way possible, and I feel tantalizing as I spread my legs wide and prop myself up with a hand behind me. My other dips under the silk material, but I’m careful not to flash him as I pull my panties to the side and find my clit.
I let my head roll back onto my shoulders as I stare at him with half-lidded eyes. Desire and danger dance together, mingling to create something electrifying and hot.
Maddox’s hand presses into the glass as he watches me, the deep rise and fall of his chest the only indicator that he’s being driven wild by my erotic display.
