Page 73 of His Haunted Desire

“Aurora,” he says, voice husky. Just the sound of his voice causes tingles to shiver over me.

“That guy from Goliath is here, and he won’t leave.”

“Then ask me,” he says.

I lick my lips. “Please….”

“Say it,” he growls.

“Sir.”

He hangs up without another word. I step back into the shop. Simon is humming a tune and tapping his hand against his leg, seemingly completely at ease. For five minutes, neither of us says anything. I can’t focus on my work. It takes all my concentration not to slap him.

When Raiden walks through the door, Simon leaps to his feet, his face going pale.

“You’re not the police,” he squeaks.

Raiden laughs savagely, almost like he wants a fight. He walks up to Simon and glares down at him, making the Goliath man look small. “How about I count to three?”

“Or what? You’ll assault me?”

“Now there’s an idea. One… two…”

Simon scurries out of the shop so fast he almost trips on his way out. Raiden stands at the window, hands clenched into fists at his sides, watching him go. He’s wearing a tight-fitting shirt, suit pants, nothing else despite the cold, letting me see the outline of his muscles through the fabric.

“Why is he still coming here?” Raiden asks.

Why are you?I almost say.

“I thought the money would be enough to make them back off.”

“They’ve got more cash than us. But I’m grateful, Raiden. It’s helped.A lot.”

He turns slowly to me. When his eyes settle on me, I feel suddenly, achingly wanted.

“Would another fifty thousand make any difference?”

“Isn’t that yourlastfifty thousand?”

“I can sell my car. Take out a second mortgage. Or explain to Grandma why I need the money. I can always make more money. That’s not your concern.”

“I can’t just let you give me fifty thousand dollars.”

He approaches the counter, making my body tingle all over. The last time we were here together, he was inside of me, hot and heavy as he tipped my world upside down and made me feel, for confusing and amazing moments, that I belonged to him.

“Who said anything about giving?” he asks gruffly. “The winter gala is approaching. One last job, Aurora. One last chance to pretend.”

“Has your grandma given you another ultimatum?”

“No. This is just for me.”

He walks slowly around the counter. I know I should tell him to stop. For the past two weeks, I’ve tried to build my resolve, tried to convince myself I don’t need or want him.

He takes my hands. Electricity hums through me at the contact.

“All you have to say is, yes, sir, I’ll be my date. Yes, sir, I’ll wear the mask one final time.”

“It’s a masked event?”