Page 71 of Cat and Mouse

For the first time, I seriously consider how much safer I am with this psychopath than with actual police. He's clearly a lot more equipped to keep me safe.

He takes my hand in his, thumb brushing over my knuckles before he stands up. "Come on. Let's get you back upstairs. You need to rest."

I don't argue as he leads me back up the stairs, his arm wrapped around my waist as I hobble along. He's gentle, careful with my leg, and even though I hate myself for it, I lean into him, letting his warmth wrap around me.

Back in the room, he helps me back into bed, his touch lingering a little too long on my skin. I try not to react, try not to think about the fact that I'm basically about to fake marry a man I've been hunting for years. A killer. A criminal. But also, the only one who can keep me alive.

As I settle back against the pillows, Leonardo pulls the covers over me, brushing my hair away from my face.

"Get some rest."

I nod, feeling exhaustion creeping in. "What about you?"

He smirks, leaning down to kiss my forehead. "I've got work to do. But I'll be here when you wake up."

I watch him leave, my chest tight, thoughts spinning out of control.How the hell did I end up here?

All because I kept that night in that club a secret.

Well, fuck.

***

I wake up to the sound of rustling and find him sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at me like he's been there for a while.

"Hey, green eyes," Leonardo says, voice smooth, a little too casual for someone who clearly planned to watch me sleep.

I blink, trying to shake off the grogginess. "What time is it?"

"It's 4 p.m. You've been out cold," he replies. He pulls something from behind him, something massive and white, and places it on the bed beside me. "Here's your dress."

I sit up, staring at the fabric spilling across the comforter. A fucking wedding dress. Of course.

"You want to try it on?" His tone is almost teasing, like he's daring me to object.

"Now?" I ask, incredulous, though I'm not sure why I'm surprised.

He shrugs, leaning back a little, clearly thinking it's the most reasonable request in the world.

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing slightly when my foot hits the floor. Leonardo's up immediately, reaching to help me stand. His hands, annoyingly steady, wrap around my waist as I struggle to balance on my still-bruised leg.

"You need help getting dressed?" he asks, amusement tugging at his lips.

"No, I've got it," I say, but then pause. "Can you, I don't know, close your eyes or something?"

He smirks, clearly finding this whole thing amusing. "Close my eyes, huh?" But, to my surprise, he actually does, tilting his head slightly with a dramatic sigh.

His smugness only makes this weirder, but whatever. I try to work quickly, but my movements are slow, the damn leg still stiff. I strip out of the shirt and too-big sweatpants I borrowed. My fingers are trembling, not from nerves, but from the sheer absurdity of all this. I drag the dress out, holding it in front of me for a moment.

It's beautiful. Like, really beautiful. There are layers of soft lace and silk, delicate beading that catches the dim light of the room. I don't know why it surprises me that it's so perfect—it'sLeo. Of course it's perfect. He'd never half-ass something like this.

"You like it?" he asks, voice dipping low.

"Yeah." I hesitate, then add, "It's gorgeous."

I slip it on, the fabric cool against my skin. I don't even need to look in a mirror to know it fits like a damn glove. Of course it does.

"Okay, you can look now," I say, but his eyes are already open, locked on me with an intensity that makes my skin flush.

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