Page 15

I had the car fixed because she needs a vehicle that doesn't leave her stranded on the side of the road. A vehicle more than the little Altima, but fuck. I'll work on that too. Eventually. Maybe before the house, because if something happened to her— My jaw clenches, and I don't finish the thought.

The tickets to the ball…

I exhale, leaning back in my chair. She's looked… off lately. Quieter. Like she is shrinking into something smaller than she should be.

Her husband's always working. Always gone. They need a night out. That's all. That's what I told myself.

My grip tightens on the armrest. Fuck.

It should be me taking her.

Not him.

For a moment, I close my eyes and let myself have it. Just this once.

She's in that midnight blue gown, the fabric clinging to her body in all the right places, catching the light like it was made for her. It sparkles, but it doesn't stand a chance against her eyes. Nothing does. She looks up at me. Smiles. A warm smile. My hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her through the thin fabric. She fits there like she was meant to.

Mine.

The music swells, and I guide her onto the dance floor, her fingers curl into my shoulder, trusting. Following. I pull her tighter into my embrace and tilt her chin up just enough, my thumb brushes the soft flesh of her jaw, and for a second… everything stills. Her lips part. Soft. Warm. Waiting.

I know exactly how they'd taste.

Sweet, with that hint of something reckless underneath. Like she doesn't even realize what she gives away. I'd take my time. The way I've never done before, lean in?—

My eyes snap open. The fantasy shatters. Reality rushes back in, cold and sharp. She's not mine. She might never be. And still…

My fingers curl into a fist. I'll make sure she has everything she deserves.

Even if she never knows it came from me. I tell myself it's a tactical interest. Due diligence. Curiosity. But I know I'm lying. I had her investigated within forty-eight hours of learning her name. Audra Hale. Vet assistant. Married six years. No priors as an adult. Her juvenile record was sealed. I had it unsealed. Possession. Underage drinking. Smoking. A few reckless nights.Nothing serious. Nothing like the things I've done that have never been written down.

She straightened out the year Pete entered her life. Peter Hale. Bank analyst. College degree. No gambling. No side debts. No criminal record. No mistresses. Solid. Unshakably solid. And a loser. He works harder than anybody else at the bank. Unfortunately, he never stood out to his superiors. He's just Pete. Always there. Unremarkable. Quiet. In all fairness, he earned that promotion. I just had to make sure of it. One phone call to the regional director. A favor called in. A subtle suggestion.

It'll keep Audra a little bit more comfortable. He cannot make too much money. Not yet. It would raise too many flags. Even I realize that. But there are only so many contests you can win. I keep my eye on the ball—new car, new house first. Then Pete will make more money, and he'll get another promotion. And another. As long as he toes the line. As long as she seems to love him. If anything changes… all bets are off.

For now, I accept their marriage. Respect it. I'm not a reckless man. I do not take what is not strategically mine. The problem is that I cannot stop thinking about her.

There is no shortage of women in my life. Models. Socialites. Women who understand exactly what I am and want proximity to it. Beautiful. Intelligent. Dangerous in their own ways. None of them fascinates me. None of them made a police station go silent. None of them smirked at a holding cell like it was a dare. None of them looked at me like they recognized something.

Audra did.

I just don't know why.

I've replayed that moment more times than I care to admit. The lift of her chin. The bite of her lower lip. The way her eyes burned gold at the center. She wasn't scared. She was alive.

When I saw her, it felt like finding something I didn't know I'd been missing. I don't only want her body. That would be simple. I want—it all.

I see the way she laughs when she shouldn't. The way she straightens herself out for a man like Pete. I want the girl who used to flirt with danger before she chose stability. Not gone. Just buried. I saw it tonight.

In the way she hesitated, then didn't. The way she stepped just a little too close to something she knew better than to touch. I want to see what happens if she leans into it. I hate that I want that.

Because obsession is weakness. And I do not allow weakness.

I stand at the window of The Dominion, and the city glitters below. Somewhere in that sprawl, she's sitting at a kitchen table too small for her. Carrying a purse worth ten thousand dollars and pretending it was luck.

Luck.

I don't believe in luck either.