Page 23 of On Edge

She called mean asshole.

I want to laugh. I’ve been called worse.

Shoving the sweater aside, I take out my laptop. I open it and start it up, immediately logging into the security camera system at Grayfleet Hall. I find myself flicking through the visuals until I find her.

The need to see what she’s up to burns inside my veins like an illicit drug addiction. But I stalk men who deserve to be sliced open, not doe-eyed women with a death wish to marry me. Having her here, on my island, bringing up shitty memories after all this time, has turned me into someone I don’t even recognize.

Even my goddam hand shakes to close around an old friend…Mercywould be a good thing to have about now, to keep me in line. She’s the only one of my razors I haven’t used yet, yet she’s the sharpest. Keeping her in my pocket reminds me not to cut. Most days, that’s enough. Today doesn’t feel like one of them. The urge to butcher the next person I see sings in my damn veins.

There she is.

I’ve found her.

Inhaling through my teeth, I take her in as she storms through my halls like a curse, like she’s been here before and knows where she’s heading. At least, Katherine hasn’t shownher where the cameras are. She doesn’t know to avoid the main hallways. That woman deserves a raise.

My gaze is locked on Richard’s daughter as she bolts into her bedroom, which was my old office.Then I get up from my desk and go over to the filing cabinet. There’s a lever there that, with one touch, swings the cabinet away from the wall, revealing a draughty, unlit passageway, then it’s a short stroll down. I know the way without needing to turn on the lamps. It used to be an escape route my father had built, leading directly from his office to a panic room in the library.

The one-way mirror looms at the end.

Seeing her through the glass, I approach slowly, even though she can’t see or hear me through it.

This is much better than a video feed.

Almost as if I’m in the room with her.

It’s one of the reasons why I had Katherine move her here.

Transfixed, I take her in as she sniffs her clothes, makes a face, and then starts dragging off her dress. I’ve no idea why she’s stripping. But I can’t not look, she might have taken something, so I need to be sure.

She freezes halfway through unbuttoning, casting her eye around the room until she looks directly at me. As though she realized someone might be watching.

She can’t know it isn’t a mirror at all, that it’s a door.

That I’m staring right back.

But Sage pales if though she does, and then legs it straight into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Cutting me off.

The corners of my lips twitch with yet another would-be smile this woman has managed to coax out of me in the space of five damn minutes. She’s not what I expected, I’ll give her that.

Then, I drag my hand over my face, sighing.

What the hell am I doing? Christ, I’m spying through a one-way mirror like a creep. Would I have carried on watching? No…yes. Who the hell knows? Maybe isolation’s turned me into a pervert. Or perhaps I was one all along and just had better excuses before.

I exhale slowly.

She didn’t even finish unbuttoning before she hid in the bathroom. There was a glimpse of lace, bare shoulders, the curve of her collarbone, but that’s all it took.

I’m rock hard.

Gripping the material of my pants, I yank them so that I’m not cutting off the blood to my dick, and then turn back, heading to my office to try and actually do some work.

But I can’t stop thinking about her.

The way she looked at the mirror, wide-eyed, paranoid, like she could feel my eyes on her. Like prey that knows it’s being hunted.

I’m craving to see that look again.