Page 38 of Willing Prey

“There’s no reason we need to talk.” My smile is tense as I fight to keep from asking why he cares if he’s blocked, because I wasn’t responding anyway.

Don’t stir up trouble Shane will have to deal with at work.

“I know you and Underwood are dating. Did he tell you to block me?” Keith can’t quite hang on to his nonchalance.

“What?” My surprised laugh is genuine. “No, of course not. He doesn’t make me do anything.”

Except come so hard I forget my own name.

Keith shifts closer. “If he’s being controlling now, it’s only going to get worse.” His transition from barely concealed anger to whatever this faux concern is makes my head spin. “I’ve worked with him for years, Claire. Trust me, you two aren’t a match—he’s married to the firm.”

“Shane is not controlling.” I try to match Keith’s playful tone from earlier. “And thanks, but I’m not taking relationship advice from my ex-husband.”

“Understood.” Easing back, he turns both palms toward me as if fending off an attack. “Just trying to look out for you.” It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes.

Keith nods at someone over my shoulder, flashing a smile that probably only looks pissed off to me. Shane’s voice reaches me the same time the smell of his cologne does, the notes of cedarwood and bergamot almost as solid and comforting as the arm he slides around my waist. “Caught you.”

Clearly, I’m the only one worried about causing tension at the firm, because Shane presses a gentle kiss to my cheek as if we aren’t standing feet from my ex-husband. My ex-husband, who is looking angrier by the second.

Okay, then.

“Keith,” Shane says in greeting. There’s zero indication that he thinks this is uncomfortable, so I take my cue from him. “Tanner and I were just talking about the Nelson acquisition.”

That’s when I realize Tanner’s standing on Shane’s other side and give him a quick hello.

As the conversation circles around work, Keith settles somewhat, still tense, but no longer radiating pure irritation.

His eyes stay on me, though, making it hard to relax.

Shane includes me in the conversation, dry as it is, tracing patterns on my hip with his fingertips the whole time.

It’s impossible not to compare this moment to previous events with Keith, how I silently shadowed him or held up a wall.

Being included, even if I don’t have much to contribute, feels good.

It’s also nice not to have my sex life brought up as a topic of discussion.

Such a low bar.

What’s hard to wrap my head around is that once, I was happy with that.

Not just the unpleasant outings with Keith, but everything else.

Shrinking myself. Always coming in second.

Never causing a fuss. Now that I’m outside it, I could never fit back into the kind of relationship I had with Keith.

It would be like trying to squeeze into my jeans from high school: painful, pointless, and a reminder of a time when I had questionable taste.

A pleasant-looking man I don’t recognize joins the conversation, and I use the opportunity to excuse myself. Shane tugs me closer before I go, his lips hovering above my ear. “Don’t be gone too long. You know I’ll hunt you down.”

“Sounds like a good time,” I murmur back, then slip from his hold.

As I walk away, the discomfort of being watched prickles the back of my neck, but I don’t look over my shoulder to see if it’s my imagination.

It’s too risky; with my luck I’d trip and face-plant, and then everyone would be looking at me.

In the bathroom, I take a minute. Dab the nervous sweat that sprung up between my breasts with a paper towel while I was talking to Keith.

Fiddle with my hair. Right as I’m getting ready to venture back into the event and look for Margot, a stall door opens.

She steps out, a surprised smile on her face.

I smile back. “There you are. The event is gorgeous; you and Marianna did such a good job.”

“Thank you.” She moves to wash her hands. “I was looking for you in the ballroom.”

“Keith caught me.”

Meeting my eyes in the mirror, she scowls. “Bad?”

“Strange. He’s angry I blocked him and asked if Shane made me do it. Wanted us to go talk somewhere quieter .” I pinch at the fabric of my dress, trying to fix a crease in the shapewear that lies beneath.

“He’s such a piece of work.” Drying her hands, she carefully shifts her engagement ring to dab beneath it, then delicately wipes the large stone. “I think he’d have you and Naomi going again if he could.”

“That’s pretty diabolical. And ballsy.”

Straightening her burgundy cocktail dress, she gives me a look . “He’d do it. Trust me. Why else would he want to talk to you alone? You know he has to be fuming that you’re dating Shane. I bet he framed the blocking thing as if he were worried Shane was bossing you around or something.”

Gaping at her in the mirror, I sputter, “That’s exactly what he did. How did you know?”

Reapplying lipstick, she checks her teeth, oblivious to my shock.

“He reminds me of someone I knew. They want to control you, but manipulate it to seem like they’re protecting you.

Blocking him was the best thing you ever did.

Whatever game he’s playing—and I know it’s getting back with you one way or another—you can’t win, because he’ll just change the rules. ”

I’m about to ask for more information. Margot has been tight-lipped about her life before moving to Maine for as long as I’ve known her, and I haven’t wanted to be pushy. But if she’s volunteering—

As if she’s in my head, she changes the subject abruptly. “Your lipstick is gorgeous, by the way. What’s it called?”

“Thanks, it’s my favorite. I keep one in every bag. Runaway? Traveler? Something like that.” I adjust to her change of topic, pulling the lipstick from my purse and passing it to her.

Reading the bottom of the tube, she lets out a soft laugh. “I’m a little worried that you forgot its name.”

I look at her blankly.

“It’s Wanderlust.”

“You’re kidding.” She passes it back and I see for myself. “How did I not remember that?”

Margot’s thoughtful, looking at the tube. “Mine was red.”

The lipstick she just reapplied isn’t red, more of a pinkish brown. “Not really.”

Shaking her head, she smiles. “Not the lipstick. My safe word was red . Only you had wanderlust . I thought you chose it.”

I contemplate the lipstick. “That’s a weird coincidence. Are you sure I’m the only one who had wanderlust as a safe word?”

“Positive. The others had red too.” She flinches, waving a hand like she can brush away the words. “Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t trying to bring up—”

I catch her hand and give it a soft squeeze before I let go.

“Don’t apologize. I asked.” While I loathe the idea of Shane hunting someone who isn’t me, being upset at him for having a sexual history isn’t fair.

And if I’m being honest, I love knowing he doesn’t enjoy hunting just anyone, he enjoys hunting me . “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’m still sorry, because it would bug me.” Her humph of displeasure makes me laugh.

“Then it’s a good thing Jeremy doesn’t have a history of hiring women to hunt,” I tease as we start toward the door. “Where is he? I thought he was coming tonight.”

The mention of her fiancé makes her smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Headache. He thinks he might be coming down with a bug.”

“That’s too bad.” My disappointment is genuine—he should be here to see what a fantastic event Margot helped put together— but it’s also selfish. Jeremy is even cagier than Margot, and I want to figure him out too.

As we walk back into the ballroom, Caine materializes on Margot’s other side, with a soft “How’s it going?”

She jumps at Caine’s sudden appearance, rolling her eyes when she realizes it’s him. “You need to stop sneaking up on me. One day you’re going to scare me so bad I mace you. I won’t feel bad about it either.”

“Oh, you’d feel bad.” He grins. “I wasn’t even trying to scare you. Imagine if I were.”

Margot’s face is flushed—flushing, actually—turning pinker by the second.

Did Caine startle her that bad?

“Let’s get drinks and find Shane,” I suggest as my phone vibrates in my purse. “Hold on, I bet that’s him.”

When I pull out my phone, I see my suspicion is correct. However, he won’t want me dragging Caine and Margot along.

Shane Underwood: Meet me in conference room E

Oh my.

“What is it?” Caine looks over my shoulder and scoffs. “Of course, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you to start running.”

My goofy grin makes Margot laugh. “You better hurry.”

With a promise to find them later, I do. As I wind through the crowd, trying not to make eye contact with anyone who might want to stop and chat, I watch for Shane, wondering if he’s already in the conference room.

Does he really want to fuck here?

With all these people around?

With Keith nearby?

He would. It’s the perfect amount of reckless and dirty.

I’m getting wet just thinking about it. This will be the closest I’ve ever come to exhibitionism.

Keith tried to talk me into it a handful of times, but the risk never seemed worth the potential reward.

This event is exactly the right amount of public—more like public adjacent.

Plus, Shane’s an overthinker. He’s not going to put me in a situation that could cost me my job.

It doesn’t take long to spot him, his tall, broad body standing out in the crowd.

He’s talking to a mustached man who looks familiar.

When I catch Shane’s gaze, he flashes a sweet smile like he isn’t about to fuck my brains out.

The look I give him in return isn’t half as wholesome.

Surprise and heat cloud his face before he regains his professional composure.

This is going to be amazing.

Working my way through the crowd, I smile politely as I dodge people I sort of know. I can’t get out of here fast enough.