Page 77 of Damsel in Disguise

His brows pull together, the shift in his expression small but telling—something caught between disbelief and pure surprise.

“Me?” he repeats.

I nod once—yes, you. Always been you. Ever since I laid my eyes on you four years ago.

Alistair scoffs in dismissal. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

I give him a small nod that says “I do” and watch him clench his jaw.

I always knew. I want to be yours only. However, it is.

“Next time, I’ll have my way with you, little kitty.”

Some questionable part of me loves that promising threat. In fact. I’m almost getting turned on from the anticipation of what he might do to me.

His wife’s voice calls from upstairs, cutting through whatever was building between us. “Everything alright downstairs, honey?”

The spell snaps. The moment fractures.

“Yeah, just some stray cat,” he answers casually,, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll be right back.”

I move instantly, slipping out of sight and ducking beneath the kitchen counter.

My breath held as I watch him look in my direction, but answering his wife. “Yeah, just some stray cat,” he obviously connected it to little kitty like some inside joke.

“I’ll be right back,” he turns away, pulled back into the life he insists on reminding me of.

The second he’s gone, I don’t hesitate to slip out through the nearest window, leaving nothing behind but the lingering tension he won’t be able to ignore.

26. PATIENCE

alistair

She had the nerve to defy me. Ariella didn’t wait in my office as I told her to.

But I know she’ll come back to me tonight in disguise. Even after the way I carved into her pride, I’d bet on anything she won’t resist the pull.

Which means I’m not pretending to sleep tonight. I stay perfectly still, with an intent to catch her mid-act. Like I promised last night.

With that in mind, I let my body go slack beneath the sheets—breathing shallow, controlled, every muscle deliberately loose, feigning that I’ve sunk into a deep, undisturbed sleep as usual.

It’s a careful performance, one I’m maintaining down to the smallest detail.

Underneath that stillness, my awareness is razor-sharp. My eyes remain barely open, hidden behind lowered lashes as I watch the room in fragments of shadow.

The darkness is working against me by distorting any movement. My vision strains, a slow ache building behind my eyes, the more the seconds stretch into minutes.

Then, finally, a flicker of movement appears behind the work table. There she is.

A small, slender silhouette detaches itself from the shadows and moves toward my side of the bed with measured steps.

Even in the dim light, the shape of her body is unmistakable—narrow waist, soft curves, an outline that shouldn’t look this tempting in near-complete darkness.

I barely contain my eyes from widening in surprise—she’s not wearing her usual full body suit. A pleated leather micro skirt flares around her hips. Her thighs shine from the black pantyhose. She paired it with her signature thigh-high leather boots.

And those pointed cat ears perched on her head… a quiet, dangerous amusement curls through me. Cute little kitty.

My heart betrays me instantly. It kicks hard against my ribs, loud enough that I’m certain she should be able to hear it.