Page 7 of Tainted Love

She pauses but only for a soft moment. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“You’re just gonna throw that out there?” she asks. “No lead-up? No hesitation?”

I chuckle. “You obviously already knew that, Lucy—”

“Ms. Vaughn.”

“—or else you wouldn’t have agreed to come.”

“Well, yeah, my dad says people are gonna kill him all the time, but I never believe him.”

I glance at her. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“Hm.” She sits back in her seat and stares forward at the crowded, city streets.

I let her sit there, silently stewing in her head. She’ll break eventually. Soon, that professional curiosity will turn into something a bit more personal and I’ll have her in my sights. I just have to sit and let it happen.

Anytime now.

She stays quiet until we reach my brownstone. I hop out with the intention of walking around and opening her door for her, but she’s already stepped her foot out by the time I close my own door. We climb the stairs while I reach into my pocket for my keys. She stays a few paces behind me to maintain that personal bubble around herself.

I open the door and step to the side. “After you, Lucy.”

She glares at me for using her name again before stepping forward. I take a look around, scanning the street for any obvious signs of being followed. It’s an old habit, but it comes in handy.

I follow her in to find her staring upward in the foyer. Her green eyes dance up and down the staircase in the dark.

“Would you like a drink?” I offer.

“No.”

I smile and walk around her, keeping my distance as I head into the back of the house toward the kitchen. She follows with soft feet, just barely grazing the floor by the sound of it. My training kicks in and I spend the trip down the hall mapping out her feet along the floorboards behind me. Maybe I should have taken up dancing. I probably would have been better at stealth myself.

I grab two Old Fashioned glasses from the cupboard.

“I said I didn’t want a drink.”

I twist the cap off a bottle of whiskey and pour a bit into both glasses.

“Mr. Hart—”

“Dante.”

“I don’t drink alcohol.”

I hold one glass out to her. “You do tonight, Lucy.”

“Ms. Vaughn.”

I smirk as she stares up at me, her eyes growing weaker by the second. “Please, Ms. Vaughn. It’d be a shame to drink alone.”

I lay the glass down in front of her before taking a small sip from mine.

“Do you live alone?” she asks.

“Yes.”

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