Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74123 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Hmm. She’s being self-conscious, which doesn’t suit her. Sure, I can make her feel better, but that will put my position in jeopardy.
I pretend to think about it. “Probably not.”
“That was... too direct.”
“Do you want me to lie to you?”
“Of course not.” She stares through the window at the lit-up buildings blurring past us.
“But I would’ve eventually found you,” I say, for no reason than to wipe that pout off her face.
My little Petal looks her best when she’s weak and at my mercy, but I realize with a tinge of annoyance that I dislike seeing her hurt.
Not by me, and not by anyone else.
She slowly turns around and manages to hide some of the hope shining in her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means, finding you was a fact, not an option.”
“You’re so weird, Jasper.”
“Weird how?”
“Sometimes, I feel like you care, and others, it’s just like you’re stone cold. Which one is real?”
The stone-cold part, or rather the calculative, no-nonsense one. I didn’t even know I had the other part until my little Petal barged into my life and refused to leave.
When I say nothing, she continues, “And I find myself curious about you. Why don’t you tell me anything about yourself?”
“I thought Dinah told you how old I am and where I work.”
“That’s not what I’m interested in. How did you grow up? What’s your favorite color? Book? Movie? Band?”
“I grew up alone and I have no favorites in anything.”
“Everyone does.”
“What are yours?”
Her favorite color is blue and she likes a lot of fantasy authors. Her favorite movie is this creepy French horror shit and she listens to the same The Verve song every day.
I remain silent as she recite them anyway, because well, that’s what’s considered normal. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate me enumerating them for her.
Or maybe she would.
Once finished, she faces me. “Is there anything you like to do aside from work?”
You. But I don’t say that, it’s still too soon to unleash the extent of my madness on her. “Jogging.”
“What else?”
Killing, carving up traitors’ faces. But then again, she doesn’t need to know that.
“Nothing.” I take the turn toward her apartment. “Tell me about you. How did you grow up?”
“From one foster home to the other.” She says the words with strange calm as if she doesn’t feel them. Interesting. It’s almost as if she numbed herself to that part of her life.
“How about your parents?”
A sheen of sadness covers her features. “They died when I was young... an accident.”
I glance at her then focus back on the road. She hesitated at the end, which means she was either lying or lacked the confidence to say the words.
Interesting.
Maybe her family history has something to do with why she keeps drawing me in.
I tuck away that information for later as we stop in front of her building.
I feel the presence before I catch a glimpse of the car parked right in front of my building.
Fuck. I should’ve known Lucio would show his face at my house sooner or later. I never tell him where I live, but he finds me anyway —more proof that the city is under his command. There’s no rat Lucio Costa can’t find on his turf.
He stands in front of the car with Marco, their gazes are focused on my building as if contemplating if they should go inside or burn the thing to weed me out.
I turn to tell my little Petal to stay in the car, but she’s already out.
Fuck.
The last thing I want is for her to meet Lucio. It wouldn’t have mattered if it were any other woman, but with her, it does.
The moment Marco’s eyes fall on her, I itch to fetch my knife and jam it straight into his fucking neck.
My little Petal is oblivious to the attention she’s getting from Lucio’s second in command as she strides to her building.
When noticing I’m not following behind, she stops and turns around. Her gaze doesn’t linger on me though. The moment she sees Lucio, her entire body turns rigid like a board.
Her fingers shake on the strap of her purse and her face pales to an alarming level with every passing second.
Lucio watches her with a disinterest that doesn’t match the lust on his henchman’s face.
That’s when I follow her field of vision. She’s not watching Lucio, she’s focused on his hand, on the tattoo tendrils escaping from underneath his shirt sleeves and the spider head at the back of his hands.
Her breaths turn shallow and she looks on the verge of fainting, just like the other time when she saw the spider in her house.
I stop myself from running to her and steadying her. If I show any ounce of interest, Lucio and Marco will find ways to use her against me.
I’m the one who exploits weaknesses, not the other way around.