by Lily White
It’s my favorite of the series: Adeline lying in bed, a formless shadow standing over her, watching. The casual observer would see a threat in the dark presence, would believe disaster lurked. But I know the truth of that photo, understand that the only thing protecting her is an unseen force that she somehow knows is always close.
Mirroring my thoughts, Lincoln’s voice grabs my attention.
“It’s almost as if she knew we were there.”
I turn to see Lincoln is staring at the same photo. And while I agree Adeline sensed something, I don’t think it was Lincoln’s presence that haunted her.
Muted noise from outside grabs my attention, and I look down to the cathedral, a flash of white coming through the front doors becoming a vise strangling my heart.
“You need to get back to your old life, Ari. Take a contract or ten. Earn a shit ton of money while forgetting about her.” He laughs. “Hell, killing someone might be good for you.”
My eyes lock on Adeline’s new husband. “It’s not a bad idea.”
His quiet laughter shakes me to the core.
“Not him.” A pause, the silence pregnant with everything Lincoln doesn’t need to say. “You let this happen, remember? We both know the life you live isn’t good for her. It never will be.”
Swallowing the rest of my drink, I set the glass on a nearby table and force myself away from the window.
“You’re right.”
“I know I am. And since it’s been six fucking years, apparently, another thing your need to do is get your dick wet. We should go out and celebrate the monster’s wedding tonight. Get you back into the swing of things.”
Moving in front of mirror to button my shirt, I try not to notice the shadows beneath my eyes. I don’t need much sleep, but I spend too much time awake during the late night hours watching a woman I can never have.
“I said I haven’t had a woman up here for six years, not that I’ve gone without sex that entire time.”
“Dirty alleys behind bars?”
I glance over my shoulder at him.
“Better than bringing them here and dealing with expectations after.”
“I hear you. Then a bar, it is. Are you driving or am I?”
My hand stills where I’d been tucking my shirt into my pants.
“I’m not in the mood to go out.”
I know the minute his baritone laugh filters through the room that he will drag me out regardless.
. . .
Dulcetta is in full swing by eleven tonight. An upscale club, it caters to the wealthy, the powerful, the elite. Every inch of this place screams money, a redwood bar curved like a woman’s form against two walls, brass rails polished to a perfect shine.
Above our heads, accent lights dance against crystal embellishments, the shadowed ambiance an accessory against the croon of a Jazz band and the low, soulful voice of its female singer.
People mill about with drinks in their hands, the men in suits, the women in revealing dresses. I ignore the three people seated with me at the leather booth tucked away in a private corner, my eyes scanning a venue that is in stark contrast to the clubs Adeline would often drag me to.
I somehow miss the garish lights and thumping music, the toxic mix of sex and alcohol in a far less civilized setting.
Where is Adeline?
They’ll be arriving on their transfer flight right now...
My hand clenches the drink I’ve been ignoring, nerves on edge, my mind tracing the itinerary of their honeymoon flight.
Paris.
Milan.
Venice.
Athens.
Bali.
Only a handful of the places Grant will be taking her, keeping her out of my reach for three months.
It hadn’t been easy to steal the information. Grant’s life is locked down tighter than Adeline’s had been, but I managed to learn that much.
Three months without her.
Three months I can’t keep an eye on a woman I’ve watched for years.
Letting go is harder than I’d imagined.
A hand slides up my thigh, breath against my neck, a mouth brushing my ear. “Where are you right now?”
In New York, walking through JFK Airport en route to terminal B, Gate 32, International Flight 3569, destination: Paris, France.
My fingers curl against the cool glass. “Nowhere.”
Glancing over, I meet Lincoln’s concerned expression, his arm wrapped around the shoulder of a buxom blonde, fingers casually stroking her skin, eyes focused on me, disapproval evident.
“Ari’s having a bad night,” he explains, that far too observant gaze sliding to the brunette at my side.
She giggles. “Oh yeah?” A squeeze of my thigh. “Maybe I can make it better.”
I doubt it.
There has to be some overseas contracts I can take...
“Ari.” Lincoln’s eyes meet mine in warning. “Why don’t you take Regina somewhere more private?”
Turning my head, I lock my stare with a set of hooded green eyes, drop my gaze down to a set of lips that are pulled into a seductive grin. They aren’t blood red like Adeline’s, the shape wrong.
“Listen to your friend, Ari.”
Her hand squeezes my thigh again, fingers ghosting my cock. Promises. Promises.
My hand slips down to hers, grip brutal. She winces, her lips parting, white teeth glimmering. If she can’t take a little pain with her pleasure, she won’t survive me.
Something inside me turns feral, toxic. I’m not sure I have control of it. Control of myself. Visions of Adeline flash in my head. Her dancing. Her habits. Her photographs. That fucking music she always listens to that drives me completely mad. I am swimming in her.
Drowning.
I slam down my drink and push to my feet, sliding Regina out to stand behind me.
Lincoln calls out to me as we walk away. “Good boy, Ari. It’s about time you listen.”
Except, I’m not listening. I’m spiraling. Diving. Climbing. Spinning. Breathing. And fucking dying. Only to come back with a desperate gasp of air, my soul writhing as if half of it has been sliced away.
On the outside, I am calm. A predator sliding through the room, slick as oil. A ghost unseen. The crowd moves around us as we slip through, bending, ebbing, shuffling out of place. Regina’s fingers squeeze mine, anticipation warming her skin.
She doesn’t understand the danger that is holding her, the whisper of death. I’m not in my right mind, the headspace too vast, skies bleak, the distance fucking vacant.
Nothing can fill it.
Nothing that is in reach anyway.
Good boy, Lincoln had joked. Will he say that again if this woman doesn’t come back from the alley where I’m leading her?
He should have known to leave me home. To let me linger in the shrine I’d created.
Lincoln should have put a gun in my hand and pointed to my next victim. It would have been a hell of a lot safer than this.
Stepping out a side door, we find ourselves in a service alley. The air is sticky, steam rising up from grates in the cement, trash bins blocking one direction, and the scent of rotting garbage a perfume bursting against my nose.
A lone lamp flickers above our heads, fly control devices glowing blue on the brick walls, an electric snap each time a poor bastard flies too close.
Easy romance is never pretty, and the beautiful ones, the ones worthy of your time, those are cleverly disguised nightmares. They elude you while tearing you to shreds, refusing to let go.
Adeline is beautiful.
But this woman, she is easy.
The filth doesn’t slow Regina down, though. But then that’s how dirty fucks always work. The scenery never matters, just how quick you can get off and get on with life.
My back hits the brick wall, glossed lips dragging up my neck, tasting, teasing, settling over my mouth as her hands trail up my chest, across my shoulders, diving into my hair. Her tongue is hot and desperate, her tits p
ressing against my chest.
Fuck. I try to be in the moment with her. I try to ignore the setting. Try to forget an annoying little girl who still hasn’t grown into the woman she will become.
But you can’t will your body to respond when it doesn’t want to.
While Regina is hot and heavy in a seedy back alley that smells as filthy and dirty as what she’s trying to accomplish, I am boarding a plane to another country.
Regina’s hand slips down to grip my cock, her eyes opening as her mouth pulls away from me, a funny grin curling her lips.
Our eyes lock, and disappointment floods her expression.
“Let me guess: This is the first time this has ever happened?”
She pulls her hand away from my flaccid, uninterested dick.
A pained groan crawls up my throat, my head falling back against the brick. “I wish I could say that. You have no fucking idea how bad I wish I could say that.”
Adeline has ruined me, and I’ve only touched her once.
Stepping back, Regina cocks her head to the side, grinning. “They have little blue pills that will help, you know?”
Okay, now that is just offensive. “That’s not the problem.”
Her lips purse, a knowing glimmer behind green eyes. “Ah. I get it. Who is she?”
Holding my stare, Regina stumbles a little on her stiletto heels.
“I’m doesn’t matter. She’s gone.”
“Dead?”
“Married. On her honeymoon as we speak,” I answer, tugging my cuffs into place and brushing a hand down my shirt to smooth the wrinkles. Why I’m even telling her this, I don’t know.
A quiet laugh.
“She must be something else to have options better than you.”
“She never knew me. I wouldn’t let her.”
It’s as pretty a picture as I can paint of the truth. Regina is free to take it as she wants.
“So, you just let her get away, huh? Dumb move.”
Why am I even having this conversation? I need to take a contract. Kill something. Forget I know Adeline Kane so I can steal my life back.
“Yeah, well, we should get inside. Sorry for wasting your time.”
Before I can move away, she flattens her palm against my chest.
“I think you need some female advice.”
My eyes slide her direction, teeth grinding.
“Don’t hate me for saying this, but marriage isn’t forever. I should know. I’m barely thirty and have been divorced three times.”
Those are statistics probably best kept to herself.
I attempt to step away again, and she presses closer to me.
“I’ll let you in on a secret, Ari. Women can be fickle creatures. And while most of us will never admit it, we want to be chased. I don’t know your story -“
No, she doesn’t. She’d probably call the cops if she did...
“- but if you ask me -“
I didn’t.
“- you might think you’re done with whoever this woman is, but you’re not.”
Her gaze flicks to my crotch.
“Your body already knows it. Might as well accept it and do what needs to be done.”
What is this woman suggesting?
“She’s married,” I remind her, the argument made to her, but more to myself. I want Adeline gone. I need her gone. So why is this process so fucking hard?
Another quiet laugh before she lets me move past her toward the door.
Stepping up behind me, she speaks on a low voice.
“Yeah, so was I. And look what that got me.”
Pulling the door open, I ignore what she said. I’m letting Adeline go. I’m retiring my hoodie and stopping the bullshit stalking.
Don’t ask me why the first thing I do when we reach the table is order another drink and pull out my phone.
Don’t even dare try to judge me for flicking a thumb across the screen to check Adeline’s flight schedule.
Ari
One Month Post Marriage:
I move through my penthouse with a long-legged stride, my tux jacket tossed over the back of the sofa, my chin arching up as I button the collar of my white shirt before tying the ends of the black bow tie.
Outside the windows, the sun is setting, lights in the distant buildings flickering on like so many fireflies against the twilight. The usual symphony of rush hour traffic is muted beneath me, the jam of tires against concrete and cars honking.
Turning, I reach for my jacket to pull it on, my eyes catching the orange and pink reflection of the sky smeared against the ebony finish of a grand piano.
Adeline is in Italy by now, her Instagram account updating with photos of pasta and gondolas, of balcony views from the expensive suites her husband insists on staying in.
Grant Cabot is as high end as they come. I’ve often looked at the photos Adeline already posted and wondered how her younger self, who’d dreamed of backpacking across Europe while staying in hostels, is enjoying the privileged life she’d once detested.
It doesn’t matter. I have a job to do, and if I don’t leave now, I’ll miss my mark.
Slipping on my jacket, I grab a burner phone to slip in my pocket, my real one vibrating against the wood of a side table.
I know better than to check it. Know I should walk away and not worry about whatever it is she’s posted.
So close.
The door is open.
My keys are in hand.
I am halfway out when I curse beneath my breath and turn back.
Grabbing the phone, I swipe my thumb across the screen and hit the icon for the tracking app.
Trying new things!!!
It’s a photo of her dinner, a thin slab of meat lying over what looks like potatoes and asparagus.
Adeline is a vegetarian.
At least, a month ago she was.
A growl rattles my chest to see that, already, Grant is changing her into someone I don’t know.
Tossing the phone, I step out the door.
It doesn’t matter.
It can’t.
So why the fuck does it?
Two Months Post Marriage:
Mount Everest!! So scary! I can’t imagine climbing to base camp, much less the top!
My jaw clenches, eyes studying an image of the infamous mountain from a view safely tucked inside a luxury hotel.
Adeline is in Nepal, their tour of Europe and Asia two thirds finished. Slamming my thumb to shut off my phone, I slip it in my pocket and lift my eyes to meet Lincoln’s areyoufuckingkiddingme stare.
“So scary? She said so scary. Can you believe that shit? She wanted to climb that fucking mountain less than six months ago.”
His brow arches. “And let me guess, you would have donned a snow suit and climbed it as well?”
Heights never bothered me. And what if she slips while scaling the ice? Someone will have to catch her. The mountain is a fucking graveyard. Adeline is just insane enough to attempt something so stupid.
Lincoln shakes his head at my lack of response, his thumb tapping against his glass of scotch.
Around us, Dulcetta is in full swing again, women slowing as they pass our booth, most likely waiting for an invitation to sit down that they won’t get.
Taking a sip of his drink, Lincoln swallows and sets his glass down far too carefully.
“You need to take another job.”
I lean against my seat, running a hand through my hair. “You wouldn’t happen to know of any open contracts in Nepal, would you?”
Laughter shakes his broad shoulders.
“You’re fucking hopeless, Ari. Seriously. Get over this shit before you lose your damn mind.”
It’s too late for that.
But I won’t admit it.
Three Months Post Marriage:
This is getting fucking ridiculous. It may have been the amount of time she’s been gone, or maybe the distance, that is setting me so on edge, but I can’t stop myself from interrupting whatever I�
��m doing when my phone buzzes with a new post. Sometimes at the most inconvenient times.
Pulling out my phone to see what crap Adeline or her new husband wrote now, I roll my eyes at the litany of cutesy fucking emojis next to a status written by Grant.
Can’t believe it’s almost over. Tomorrow we return home to begin real life again!! Can’t wait for the flight.
The photo is of Adeline peering out across the distance, a scattering of stars framing the silhouette of her face against a clear night sky.
They are in New Zealand, their flight back to the states scheduled to take off in fourteen hours. To say I am thrilled she’ll be home is an understatement that fills me with both excitement and dread.
Nudging the guy next to me, I ignore the way he flinches when I show him the screen.
“What kind of man uses so many emojis? Seriously? A little plane, a heart, and what the fuck is that? Water drops and an eggplant?”
“It’s a reference to sex,” the guy says, his eyes dancing between the phone and my face, his body flinching again when I jam my gun tighter against his head.
I turn off the phone, look at him and sigh. “Makes sense. Probably some bullshit reference to joining the mile high club.”
He nods, the vat of oil beside us bubbling and steaming.
“You don’t have to do this. What have I done to deserve death? I don’t even know who you are.”
I search his face, my lips pulling into a thin line.
“It’s not my job to know what you did. But it’s getting late, and I need to get on with it. Thanks for the explanation of the emojis, though.”
He screams when I get tired of waiting for him to jump and shove him in.
Jeffrey Millard owns a manufacturing plant that has many dangerous places where one can slip to their death.
Accidents happen all the time.
It doesn’t matter what the poor bastard did to deserve his death.
All I know is I am now a few million dollars richer, and that Lincoln was wrong to think taking contracts would help me move past Adeline.
Fourteen hours and she’ll be back.
I’m not sure what I’ll do once she is in reach.
Four Months Post Marriage:
Lights flicker on and off through the mostly empty house. One month after returning from her honeymoon, Adeline has gone through the possessions of her former life and is now walking through each room to ensure she’s taken everything she wants.