Page 14 of Play With Me

As if the bastard—the one I’ve had to deal with for years, not the new pain in my ass—has cameras in my office and can see what I’m doing, my phone lights up with a text from Mick.

How is everything going? Should I stop in tonight?

“Fuck off…” I keep touching myself, but the image of Anders between my legs merges with one of Mick. Dark hair streaked with silver, hands that know all my weak spots. Anders’ ability to make me wet just by the way he looks at me.

I would have sought him out again. Last night wasn’t mind-blowing, but it was fresh and new, and for some reason, I felt safe with him.

Now, the passionate rage that flares in his eyes when he looks at me?Thatpromises mind-blowing sex.

Too bad he’s a fucking asshole.

Picking up the pace, I roll my hips against my hand, seeking release from my own external stimulation. Just as my orgasm crests, a harsh knock on the door makes me jump, my hands lifting from my body as I jackknife into a sitting position.

“What?” I snap.

Luca barges in, and I’m thankful he knocked first; otherwise, he would have gotten his own private show.

Not that he would have minded.

Two Angels follow him, and it takes me a moment to realize they don’t work here but that it’s Martin and Nikolai wearing matching solemn expressions. “What is it?”

“There’s been another murder,” Martin says quietly, looking around my office as if he’s searching for something.

“What? How do you know?” Rising off the couch, I pull my robe tighter as if it will hide the evidence of what I was just doing.

Luca knows me better, though, and his eyes rake down my body as he says, “These two found the guy.”

It takes a second to process what he said. “Here?”

Nikolai nods. “He appeared to be sleeping, perhaps passed out from too muchfun. This was cleaner than the other two.”

Martin holds a familiar rose and a letter out to me. “Only, this was next to him.”

Shakily, I take the flower and red envelope. “Where is Detective Brooks?”

“He left,” Luca says with a sharp laugh. “Fucker obviously can’t handle this shit. I don’t know why you chosehim.” His words are pointed, meant to drive home that he picked up on the tension between me and Anders and isn’t happy about it.

“What does the letter say?” Martin asks, ignoring my beefy head of security.

I toss the rose on the desk, mindful of the thorns, before opening it.

Cheater, cheater, political breeder, wanted to be the wife but couldn’t beat her. Took a lover to your bed. Keep it up, you’ll lose your head.

You can’t seeme, Carmela. But I seeyou.

“I need full access to everything about the club. I need to know how big it is. How many entrancesthere are. Who has access to get in and out. I want to know who makes the membership cards. I’ll need a complete list of clients and workers,” Anders lists off as he paces in front of my desk at Decadence.

The morning has been busy, between moving the body last night without anyone finding out what happened and getting everyone together at the restaurant today to discuss what our next moves are going to be. I didn’t sleep at all last night, choosing to stay at my apartment here in the city instead of going home.

“Give me a few hours, and I’ll get you everything you need,” I tell him, rubbing at my eyes, careful not to smudge my makeup.

“I’m sorry,” he says, lowering his voice to a level of what sounds like concern.

“For what?”

He sits on the sofa, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he scrubs his face with his hands. He looks disheveled—far from the cocky jerk he was yesterday. “I should have never left last night. How are you holding up?”

There’s a flutter in my stomach as his hazel eyes bore into me, looking like he genuinely cares about my feelings. Even though he made it perfectly clear yesterday that he doesn’t give one single iota about me, my club, or my life. He treated the case callously, as though the murders would stop if I just shut down Désirer. If I just stopped acting like awhore.

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