Page 9 of Deadly Secrets

“I don’t know how shitty your day was, but I can assure you that mine probably takes the cake,” I replied.

“My mother just got engaged,” he blurted out without blinking.

“I can’t see why that’s a terrible thing.”

“My dad died in a car accident three years ago.” He paused. “She met this guy and got engaged in less than ten months. I know she deserves to be happy, but it feels too soon.” He sighed. “It looks like she couldn’t wait to move on.” He gulped his drink and continued. “I left the engagement party because I couldn’t stand the happiness floating around the room. It seems like everybody wants to forget. I can’t. I just couldn’t breathe.” He exhaled and asked, “What about you?”

I didn’t know what to tell him. I didn’t know the guy. The only thing I knew about him was what he’d just told me and that he really needed a drink. He’d just finished a glass of what looked like whiskey in one gulp and was currently ordering a second one. I didn’t understand why he was opening up like this, but I figured sometimes it was easier to spill your guts to a stranger than a friend. Based on his words, he’d been in this bar for at least twenty minutes, so who knew how many drinks he’d had so far?

Enveloped in the depths of his gaze for a moment, I hesitated. Shall I tell him the truth? Would it scare him away?

Fuck it. I’m probably never seeing him again.

“My parents died almost four weeks ago in an accident. I haven’t been able to cry since then, which is starting to scare the shit out of me. Also, I’m meeting with the executor of the will tomorrow. It’s like there’s this big empty hole inside me, and some days I feel like I’m about to have a mental breakdown.” There. I said it.

The silence stretched between us for a few seconds before he responded. “Fuck me…well, that definitely takes the cake for sure. I’m sorry about your parents.”

“I’m sorry about your father, too.”

“Do you live here in the city?” he asked.

“No. I live in Port Chester. It’s about fifty minutes from here.”

“Yes, I’ve been there before. My soon-to-be stepfather owns a house in Rye, and my mother and I are moving there next weekend. I spent a lot of time there before my dad passed away, so I’m quite familiar with the area.”

“Oh really? Maybe we’ve met before.”

“Believe me, if I’d met you before, I’d remember.” He couldn’t take his eyes off me, but then his attention shifted to my mouth, and his eyes darkened. I could feel my heart racing. I didn’t know if it was the drinks or how he looked at me, but he noticed, and the corner of his mouth turned up, giving me a smirk that made my hands sweaty and my heart beat faster. He was definitely my type. If we had met under different circumstances, I would have made a move on him. In fact, I still had to restrain myself from flirting with him when I only wanted to know how good his hands would feel on my skin. Old habits died hard.

My mouth suddenly felt dry, like I had licked sandpaper. I took a sip of my drink, meeting his gaze. Something about him made me nervous, but at the same time, I felt comfortable around him.

He could totally be a serial killer, Sienna.

We spent the following hour talking about the music we liked, our favorite spots in the city, and sharing our favorite restaurants in Manhattan, but then his face dropped, and the air between us shifted.

“Penny for your thoughts,” I said.

“It’s nothing,” he answered cryptically, clenching his jaw.

I checked my phone and noticed it was 10:36 p.m.

“Shit. I should get going. The meeting with my lawyer is quite early, and I need to get some sleep. It’s gonna be a challenging day.”

He didn’t say anything; he just kept looking at me. I took his silence as my cue to leave and said, “It was nice meeting you. Good luck with everything.” I turned around toward the women’s restroom. There was no way I could manage an hour’s ride to Port Chester when I desperately needed to pee.

Once I finished, I exited the toilet stall, and my heart missed a beat. He stood before me, leaning against the sink with his hands resting on the black marble on both sides of his body and his right ankle crossed over his left foot. He was taller than I expected, and his black shirt showed every outline of his arms and muscles. I couldn’t move. My legs had decided they didn’t respond to my commands anymore, and heat rushed up my body and burned my cheeks. I was almost a hundred percent sure I was blushing.

In one smooth movement, he pushed himself off the sink and walked toward where I stood. It was clear to me at that moment that he was a predator, and I was nothing more than prey. A different girl might have felt intimidated or maybe even scared, but the way he towered over me just thrilled my inner whore with anticipation.

Closing the space between us, he dropped his head and whispered, “I have realized I don’t know your name.” His voice was husky and dark.

I panted, trying to catch my breath.

What the hell is happening?

“Sienna.” I sighed.

“Sienna,” he repeated as his mouth traveled down the left side of my neck, his lips barely touching my skin. He was so close that I could smell his breath filled with spice and caramel notes. His left hand slowly caressed my right arm as it made its way upward, my nipples peaking through my dress in response to his touch.

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