Page 28 of Safe Word

Finally alone with her, I was suddenly aware of the air still humming with her boldness. I adjusted in my chair, forcing myself to focus.

The silence that followed rang louder in the wake of her suggestion. My pulse ticked once – twice – and I fought to remember this was still a place of business.

‘I’ve signed into the workspace,’ she said, pulling me right back into her web.

Her eyes met mine as she gestured towards her screen.

‘Good,’ I said, leaning forward slightly and opening my own laptop to pull up the shared platform. ‘Let me walk you through it.’

I clicked a folder labelled ‘Active Manuscripts’ and turned the screen slightly so she could see. ‘Drafts are here. Edits tracked here. Nothing’s ever lost.’

Her focus was entirely on the screen, her eyes sharp as she absorbed the information. I tried to keep my overview clear and concise, but every time she shifted slightly in her chair, the faint, citrusy scent of her perfume wafted to me. It was subtle – orange blossoms, maybe, mixed with something warmer.

Gritting my teeth, I willed myself to ignore it, but my senses check-mated me with every breath. I couldn’t believe how quickly this woman was able to turn me into a teenage boy as my thoughts spiralled straight into the unprofessional – headfirst and unrepentant.

Vinnie was right. If I didn’t get laid properly soon, I’d end up writing her into the next book. Handcuffs and all.

‘Understood,’ she said finally, her voice professional, oblivious to the chaos she was stirring in my mind.

‘Start with chapters one through fifteen. We’ll go from there.’

She nodded.

I settled back into my chair, puffing the air out of my lungs with difficulty as I tore my gaze away from her.

This was going to be a hell of a lot harder than having an assistant should be.

SIX

Crouching low on the fire escape, I pressed my fingertips against the cold metal rail, eyes locked on the soft moonlit glow bleeding through the sheer curtain. There was a camera in the far corner of the ceiling. Another above the front door. A third, tiny and near-invisible, nestled between the bookshelf and the smoke alarm. She knew how to dance with monsters.

Clever girl. My girl.

But she never thought I’d be the one watching over her, keeping the darkness away.

Her body shifted beneath the spill of white sheets – barely a ripple – and I almost groaned. The silk clung to her skin as if it were jealous of the air. Pale blue. Nearly translucent in the moonlight. It slid up her thigh as she turned, baring the curve of her leg, the crease of her waist, the swell of her hip where my hands could rest.

The moon painted her in silver and bone, turning the slope of her shoulder into art.

She slept like she did everything else – delicately, unconsciously cruel. All softness and shadows without a clue what she did to the men around her. What she did to me. I wondered if she remembered…

She hadn’t seen me at Obsidian. But I had recognised her. She looked the same as she did now. No—

More.

Brighter. Wilder.

Her features had been hidden beneath the wig and the mask, and I’d been relieved to see her hair was still blonde when she took the wig off earlier – like a halo hiding beneath sin.

She wore lace as if she had been born in it; let another man touch her – command her – as if she didn’t already belong to someone. As if she wasn’t fucking mine.

But I understood.

She wasn’t betraying me. She was returning to me. Finding her way back.

All of this – her moving here, the cameras, the silence… it was all a part of the gift.

She’d been given back to me. Wrapped in silk and moonlight.