Page 18

Selene

Frustration boils in my veins as I step back into the main part of the boutique. I’m turned on and pissed off at the same time, angry that I wanted more from that fucking guy while also wishing I could drag him back to my apartment and carve him up. Cornering me in the fucking stockroom? Really?

My real problem is not getting caught. It’s the fact that my panties are damp because the sick part of me wanted more. The memory of his grin, the way he laughed as he limped out, only makes me hornier, my pussy throbbing with need. Doesn’t help that Dante’s cryptic text this morning— You okay? —has my head spinning, or that I keep picturing Ronan bending me over a counter, his hands bruising my hips, fucking me until I can’t think. I hate when I get like this, drowning my problems in sex, because that’s when shit gets sloppy, and sloppy gets you caught.

I let out a heavy breath as I head toward the front, straightening a display and then a few of the foundation blocks along the way. I’m a picture of normalcy, but inside, I’m a mess, horny, pissed, and trapped in a game I didn’t start. Aside from the fucker in the stockroom, I now have a new target to worry about and less than twenty-four hours to pull the job off. I could wait until tomorrow, procrastinate, but that’s a recipe for disaster.

It’s why I dug into him this morning, gathering public records, social media, the works so that I can slip into his life tonight and end it clean. Problem is, he’s predictable, a cheater who’s loud about it, flaunting his side pieces on that stupid dating app, Catch Me .

His wife’s too naive to notice or she doesn’t care and it only took a few swipes to find his silver-fox face smirking on my screen. I’ve been texting him all morning, on and off, playing the flirty bait, and he’s eating it up, his messages dripping with sleaze that makes my skin crawl.

I stop by the lipstick display again and grab a new one for the display to redo my lips. The guy smeared it all over my upper lip and chin. I look a mess, wrecked now that I see it and quickly use the wipes beside the little mirror to clean myself up. Heat races to my core because I look freshly fucked despite nothing happening back there. Jesus Christ, Selene, get it together.

I need my head screwed on straight to weather all of this bullshit.

Of course, when I get to the front, Dante is leaning against one of the displays, Karla eyeing up the man like she’s owed something. “Fuck off, Karla,” I growl out. Dante isn’t mine, per se but that doesn’t mean I won’t cut a bitch for touching him. God, if he only knew that I’d been around two men since he fucked me last night…

And my traitorous little pussy throbs at the thought of him threatening to kill them or actually going through with it before fucking me over… Nope, not thinking about that. “What the fuck do you want?”

Dante snorts as if he knows what’s going on through my head, his gaze raking over me like he’s already picturing me naked. “Just checking up on you.”

Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms, popping my hip out to show authority or whatever this stance does to Dante. It’s weird how that guy was here moments ago, pinning me in the stockroom, and now Dante’s here, like they’re circling, wolves sniffing out blood.

I don’t press it, though. There’s too many secrets to keep and I’m already juggling too much. “I’m great ,” I snap, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Fantastic. Got fucked real hard yesterday and it was glorious. Do you need something?” Conveniently, I leave out the threatening call this morning pushing me to kill the mayor’s son. It’s got adrenaline pumping through me, a sick pep in my step despite the twisted options. I also skip mentioning my plan to seduce Smission at some point tonight or tomorrow, play the bait, and then find a way to kill him. Just another day as the Reaper.

Dante’s eyes darken, his jaw tightening at the mention of yesterday. “Don’t need anything. I was just at the precinct following up with Harley. Seems the Reaper struck again yesterday.”

My face falls as I try to portray the innocence I definitely don’t have. No one’s around us to hear Dante’s words now that Karla fucked off somewhere and the pop music is just loud enough to cover our conversation. “Two kills in twice as many days? What the fuck?”

He seems to be studying me as if he doesn’t truly believe my disbelief. “Harley thinks there might be a connection between the kills even if it’s not the same killer. We haven’t gotten anything else yet. Dinner tonight?”

Suspicion coils in my gut because Dante doesn’t do dinner. He breaks into my apartment, fucks me until I’m screaming, leaves me bruised and sated, but dinner? That’s a game and I’m not falling for it. “You don’t ask me to dinner,” I say. “You break into my house and fuck me, but you can’t do that either tonight. I have a dinner.”

His frown deepens as his eyes narrow and I can feel the possessiveness rolling off him. “With who?”

If it was a different night, I’d taunt him, goad him into thinking he’s made the choice to come fuck me the way I need him to. But tonight, I really do have plans. “Myself and a bottle of wine. Don’t come the fuck over either. That’s not an invitation.” It’s going to be like I’m in school all over again, cramming for an exam that I can only hope not to fail.

The way his gaze hardens, his expression darkening brings back the asshole Dante that I know. The caring one isn’t one I’m used to, well not since we were kids, anyway. A smirk crosses his face, that devilish aura coming back in full force. “Princess, we both know I’d come over anyway if that’s what I wanted but I’ll respect your wishes. Make sure you lock the door.”

“Bitch, I’m going to put a fucking deadbolt on it.”

“And if you think that the door is the only way to get in, then you’re not as smart as I thought.”

That just pisses me off as he steals a kiss from me and then stalks back outside. I want to yell at him but that’s just what he wants so I decide to do something else that he’d have a fit over.

Taking out my phone, I find a message from the Catch Me app with a phone number and a kissy face next to it. Typical. But using my number is more evidence so I stay within the app and text him back, dismissing his last message.

Send me a picture.

God, this man isn’t even original. And I would send him a picture but that leaves evidence. I didn’t even put anything determinate on the app other than a picture of cleavage.

You’ll have to dream until you see me, babe

Fuck, I wish I could see you now.

And a woman’s gotta work. How about tonight?

The response comes slow and it’s not at all what I wanted.

How’s tomorrow evening? I’ll be working pretty late tonight.

I’m sure that’s a lie but I also can’t push it. I have until midnight to get this bullshit done so I’ll have to work quick. Fortunately for me, it gives me a little more time to plan.

Sounds perfect.

Wear red.

I smirk at that before pocketing my phone because yeah, by the end of that night, I’ll definitely be wearing red.