Page 6 of Carved Obsession (The Sanctum Syndicate #4)

Scarlet

Both Willow and Carmen are gone. The back door is locked, blocked, and alarmed. It’s just me at the front of the store, along with two customers who talk and laugh as they point at various pieces in one of the vertical display cases.

“May we see the baguette-sapphire set, please?” the gentleman asks.

“Of course,” I say with a polite smile.

I’m certain it’s not their first time here. I recognize her earrings. Carmen made them about a year ago. She was applying the finishing touches when I visited her workshop.

I walk over, open the case, and pull out the stand with the earrings, necklace, and bracelet. I lock the display and I’m about to head back to the main counter when the front doorbell chimes.

A fiery chill nettles up my spine, stopping at the nape of my neck, the grip tight, forcing my head to turn. But I resist. I push back because it can only be one person, and I will make him work for my attention. Though a slight, uncontrollable tremble in my shoulders betrays my composure.

“I’ll be right with you,” I call over my shoulder, glancing just long enough to catch a glimpse of his intense gaze burning into me. Enough to let him know I’m aware he is here, but he has none of my attention.

That should go down well.

“Please, follow me.” I address the customers as we walk to the counter.

Stepping around it, I place the jewelry pieces on the velvet-lined tray. All the while, I’m vividly aware of each and every one of his slow, determined steps as he moves through the store. Watching. Stalking.

“I really love the cut and the filigree of the setting,” the woman says as she picks up the earrings and holds them up to the light.

“Mrs. Brasa’s craftsmanship is as exquisite as always,” her partner states as he inspects the ring. “It’s all yours if you want it, my love.”

She turns to look up at him, warmth and adoration brimming in her eyes. “Are you sure? I already have so—”

“I’m sure.” He cuts her off, plucking the earrings out of her fingers and returning the jewelry to the tray. “Would you wrap these up for us, please?”

“Of course,” I say with a nod, and then I transfer the jewelry to the wrapping station.

I hear him pacing through the store, and I take my time packing the large velvet box. Then I move to the cash register, bending the seconds to my calm nerves.

I may be teasing him, but I’m also putting it off for my own sake. Now that the reality is here, the thrill might taste sweet, but the dread is here too, floating in the air with its bitter notes.

“Thank you,” I say to the woman. “I hope you enjoy wearing them.”

“I will. Thank you very much,” the woman says with a blinding smile before they both turn and head for the exit.

This is it. The moment I’ve been expecting for months.

I flinch when the gentle sound of the closing door feels more like a deafening boom. It has a finality to it, punctuating the life I have led so far and what awaits after. If anything awaits after.

With reluctance, I turn my attention to the man himself. He’s no longer watching me but looking into one of the large display cases that covers the walls. If he’s looking at what I think he is, it’s a watch that costs more than half the other watches we have in stock. A man of expensive taste.

Not that I’m surprised, considering how he’s dressed.

He’s broken out of the golden age, wearing Oxfords, fitted suit pants, and a tailored tweed waistcoat over a shirt that hugs him a bit too well.

There’s already a shiny watch on his wrist, and surprisingly, a few rings on his fingers.

His hair is pristinely swiped back at the top of his head, the sides and back shaved close, and there’s a shade of stubble on his chiseled jaw.

As he slides his hands into his pockets, the confidence pours out of him in waves. Forearms tense beneath rolled-up sleeves as he pulls his shoulders back like he’s preparing for a fight.

Meanwhile, a drop of sweat tickles its way between my shoulder blades, down beneath the waistband of my lavender A-line skirt. One deep breath later, I move toward him and stop, shoulder to shoulder, keeping a foot of distance between us. My gaze stays forward, though.

“Mrs. Brasa-Glass.” He rolls my name off his tongue, stroking every single letter with that smoky voice. It sounds new. Like he’s still testing to see how it feels to say it. He must have just found it out.

“Miss,” I correct him. “Welcome.” I motion to the ungodly expensive watch. “Are you interested?”

I don’t miss the sharp rise of his chest and the longer than necessary pause before he answers.

“It’s surprising what treasures an inconspicuous store can hold.” He shifts his attention to me, his gaze molten lava against my cheek, but I stay put. “And a secret, too,” he adds.

His breath brushes against my ear, and goosebumps feather beneath the warmth, running viciously down my neck and wrapping around my throat. I think I dreamed of this sensation licking my skin. Or maybe I wished it.

“Just because something has yet to be found, it doesn’t make it a secret. Regardless, precious pieces are the specialty here. But not many as expensive as this watch.” I’ve never been so damn polite in my entire life.

I risk a quick side-glance his way, catching the fevered intensity of his gaze.

A second is enough.

Two would be a trap.

Three would be my undoing.

He looks like a walking wet dream in tailored clothes, with a face carved by Renaissance masters.

“If not a secret, then what?”

I shrug. “It’s not up to me to give it a name. I’m not the one who’s been seeking it.”

He exhales slowly, the sound of the air reverberating from deep in his chest, like a dragon breathing fire just before he’s about to truly attack.

“You’re a bold kitten.”

I can’t suppress the sharp inhale filling my lungs with fire. That term of endearment is too close to the edge of condescension to hit the right spot, but it does anyway. This man has a maddening, hypnotic effect on me, and I find myself leaning into the unspoken, yet promised, violence.

It’s suicide. Yet I seem to be keen on tying the noose myself.

“You must not be used to people speaking their mind around you.” I peer over my shoulder, and the clashing of our eyes feels like an explosive volcanic eruption.

A magnificent destruction that threatens to decimate, burn, and melt me until I’m part of its cataclysmic soul. I wouldn’t look away, even if I knew better. A part of my soul burns for that havoc, begs to be part of it. To finally find its perfectly fitted half.

His eyes are mesmerizing. I thought they were blue, but they’re not just that.

They’re also gold and green. Dark and bright.

And every other shade humanly possible fitted into those saturated blues seeping into a spellbinding hazel.

Only, the colors would be nothing without the cruel intensity of this man’s soul, an eerie emptiness staring into me like it’s absorbing my very essence.

There is a depth in there, devoid of life. Of feeling. Of caring. A bitter, contrasting abyss. And it’s looking right back at me.

Maybe, just maybe, I’m not the only one affected here.

Too many seconds pass without an answer from him. Without any word at all. And being caught in his bone-chilling stare, as he decides if this is the moment to strike, makes me jittery.

Yet, I can’t look away.

“Interesting setup you have here.”

Finally, he speaks!

Though the man seems to have found a formula for how to convey his point by using the fewest words possible.

“The setup isn’t quite mine, sir, but I trust you already know this.”

His right eyebrow springs up, the curve giving his already cool demeanor an even icier edge. I’m unsure what triggered it, though.

I force my composure, no matter how difficult it proves. Something about this man’s energy threatens to bring me to my knees. And I refuse to bend.

“You only work at your stepmother’s shop.”

I grin, albeit politely, enjoying the incorrect information he offers, then shake my head. “No.”

“You are now.” His tone shifts a sliver of an octave, bringing forth shielded frustration. Even when he only uses three words. Again, efficient.

“I’m helping out. It’s a rare occurrence since I’m usually quite busy,” I tease.

He hums in response, though a slight growl vibrates through and lands straight in my belly, filling it with unwelcomed warmth.

“You didn’t answer me. Are you interested in the Vacheron Constantin watch? The Tourbillon model in green truly is a masterpiece.”

He cocks an eyebrow as he gently tilts his head. The scrutiny as he holds my gaze is unsettling. Exhilarating. And downright terrifying.

How fucking thrilling!

I bite the inside of my lip to keep from grinning like the madwoman I know I am, a rumbling of excitement threatening to burst behind my ribs.

“So?” I push.

“Attempting to sell me a watch won’t stall me.” The words darken, deepening with a slight growl. Just as it does in my fantasies, when I stroke between my thighs. The same voice guiding my recent orgasms.

“Stalling? Sir, I’ve been here all along.” I turn to face him fully, though I take half a step back, his proximity overwhelming me. “Truthfully, I thought you would have found me by now.”

I don’t enjoy his accusations—first he thinks my family kept me tucked away, and then he thinks I’ve been hiding for all this time.

“Careful now, kitten. You may have claws, but I bite.” He turns to face me as well, only a couple of feet separating us. And I swear those are the most words he’s spoken to me in one go.

Something reckless shifts within me, and I roll my eyes at him. The response comes from his gaze alone, a darkness descending upon it as he tilts his head down.

“Shall we cut to the chase?” I question.

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

So that’s a yes. “Why would I?”

He cocks his head, studying me. “Most people’s healthy response to murder.”

“Most people consider what you’ve done to be a bad thing.”