Page 57 of Only for Him

Maybe next time, it’ll bemeshowing up athisdoor.

And do what, exactly?

To arrest him, or ask for a repeat performance? Or worse, ask him to strip away every last bit of who and what I am until I’m irrevocably his?

I shut down that snarky voice in my head, and shove it—along with the remnants of last night—into the back of my mind.

My shadow has played his hand.

Now it’s my turn.

17

GISELLE

By the timeI reach the Property Clerk’s Office in downtown Manhattan, I almost manage to convince myself that what happened last night was a fluke. That it’s what happens when I spend weeks dealing with bad sleep, taunting messages, and a literal growing pile of work.

That I’m stressed and frustrated, so much so that my body mistook fear for arousal. And in the process, it sought out the nearest and quickest release in the most fucked-up way possible.

That I’m obsessed with solving these cases, and not withhim.

Right?

Sure, Giselle, keep telling yourself that like you haven’t stopped thinking about how hard he made you come.

Arata jumps when I open the door to his office, like I caught him hacking a body part off a corpse. His scrubs are baggy, his mask is half on, and his curls are plastered to his forehead. I can practically smell the Red Bull fumes on him.

A slight flush creeps up on his cheeks when he looks at me, visible at the edges of his mask. Nervously, he tucks his hands behind his back.

The lab smells of formalin and disinfectant. I’m almost tempted to ask for a bottle of both. Who knows, maybe it’s the exact kind of thing that can clean up a woman who let a psychopath lick her soul last night.

“Detective Cantiano,” Arata stammers, his voice just a little higher than expected. “Wasn’t expecting to see you. Aren’t you off today?”

The redness around his cheeks starts to spread until it reaches his ears, and I can’t help but smile at it. It’s almost cute in a schoolboy kind of way.

“No rest for the wicked,” I try to keep my voice light. “I figured that I come down here to ask you if you’ve made any progress on my own special request.”

As soon as those words leave my mouth, I can taste the oiled metal of my gun barrel on my tongue, feel a set of powerful fingers wrapped around my throat, and hear his voice whispering in my ear.

Little viper.

My traitorous heart starts to beat just a little faster than before.

“On the earrings and the councilman’s murder?” Arata asks.

I nod, fighting the urge to remember how slowly and sensually my stalker pressed them into my ear as he kissed his way up my neck. “Please tell me you got some good news for me.”

“I got the results for both. I was going to prepare a report to send your way in the Bronx, but since you’re here.” He taps away on his laptop until he pulls up the report. “The councilman’s tox screen came back clean, as expected.”

Of course.

“No evidence of sedation,” Arata continues. “Tox panel shows nothing other than the usual traces of party drugs. So that’s our proof the councilman was awake and aware for his death.”

Try as I might, I can’t help a dark satisfaction uncoiling in my belly.

Good.I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to suffer. I’m glad that he felt it all. Because it’s exactly what I would’ve wanted for him.

My shadow sure knows exactly what I want. He knows to give me something that no other men have ever given me.