Page 42 of Maneater

“That’s kind of the point.” She smiles, her breathing a bit heavy from the steep incline. “I like keeping people on their toes, getting them to underestimate me. Makes things much more entertaining.”

“Well, you’re succeeding with me. I never know what to expect when it comes to you.” It’s more truth than I intend to spill, but it feels like the right answer when she gives me a satisfied smile. “So you hike. You go on luxury vacations. You get free drinks from assholes who don’t deserve you giving them the time of day.”

She raises an eyebrow at me with a small smile. “You mean assholes like you?”

I can’t help it: she got me, since I was one of the assholes she conned into buying her free drinks. I return the smile.

“Yeah. Assholes like me. So, what else do you do? What do you do for work?”

“I’m a micro influencer on social media. I take pictures and make videos about my life and post them. I get paid from brand deals and whatnot.”

It’s the truth, something I’ve known since I searched for her when I found her social media channels with pictures of her around Hudson City and at different luxury locations, but despite that, it doesn’t quite fit. Despite the shit I give her about being a gold digger, lookingfor some rich and powerful man to fund her expensive lifestyle, the more I get to know her, the less I believe it.

It doesn’t fit her, somehow. I believe she likes nice things, but something in my gut tells me she likes earning them herself, not being given them.

“Do you like it?” I ask, trying to make sense of it, and she smiles.

“Yeah, it’s a blast. I get to keep my own schedule, get dolled up and take pictures of myself, and make money doing it. Brands send me free stuff. I get to go on trips like this and write it off because I’m making content.” Well, I guess that explains how she can afford to come to a place like this.

“And you make a living doing that?” I can’t quite wrap my head around it.

She nods. “I do well for myself.”

“That’s…that’s impressive,” I say, and she shrugs. It’s then that I realize she isn’t comfortable talking about herself, another red flag I should be taking note of, but I can’t seem to hold any of them against her despite my best efforts.

“I mean, it’s nothing like you,” she says, distracting me.

“Me?”

“The youngest VP of Operations that Daydream has ever had. That’s much more impressive.”

My brow furrows with confusion because while I told her my job, I didn’t tell her anything else. “How did you know that?”

And for a short moment, I see it: a flash of panic. Not embarrassment or nerves because I caught her Googling me, but panic that she’s been…what? Caught?

As quickly as it came, it’s gone, hiding beneath that pretty, ditzy mask she wears, the one that is so fake it actually makes me angry when she puts it on. It’s the one she wears when she’s on those dates, the one that I’ve watched melt away a handful of times when she goes toe-to-toe with me, the one that she set aside that night in the bar.

I shouldn’t be so aware of Josie and her different expressions, but the truth of the matter is, while I’ve been intrigued by this woman since she turned me down six years ago, I’ve been obsessed withJosephine Montgomery since Stephen Jones invited me to crash her date with him, since he walked off and she showed me her true self, since I realized this woman is the first I’ve met who can hold her own and never backs down.

It only got worse each time I’ve bumped into her since, but my obsession came to a head when I heard her moan my name. She’s so unlike any other woman I’ve met, the ones who will do anything to impress me, to get a date with me, and try to lock me down, that I can’t help but be infatuated with her.

Except none of it adds up.

“Oh, Horace was going on and on about how amazing you were last night.”

When she lies, her dimple doesn’t come out.

I noticed it the third time I saw her out in Hudson City, that time with Jerry Callahan, a former investor at Daydream before he was charged with embezzling from his firm, when she told me she was happy to meet me, making Jerry believe it was our first introduction.

When she’s taunting me, tempting me, fucking with me, that dimple is deep in her left cheek. Ever since the first time I saw it, I’ve wanted to swipe a thumb over it, ideally when I’m buried deep inside of her.

“I’m assuming with all that ladder climbing, you haven’t had much time for dating.

“I don’t date,” I confirm.

“That explains the attitude. Not getting some will make a man bitter.”

I turn my head to look at her and smile. She doesn’t look my way, meaning I catch her profile and the small play of a grin on her lips instead.