Page 25 of The Dollhouse

He inched closer. “Well, I know I’m pretty much still a stranger to you, but from what it sounds like, you’re better off without them.” Lake gestured to the apartment, to all of the new furniture resting within it. “You don’t need any of this to be happy. You don’t need their money or their approval. Sometimes you just have to cut out the toxic people and move on, even though it’s hard.”

“You’re smart, Lake,” I spoke, a smile biting at my lips. “You might be a stranger, but I think I like you.” Whoa. I didnotmean to say that… did I?

Dimples appeared on his cheeks. “I’d say I’m a pretty likable guy, but that feels like something a douche would say.”

I giggled. “Yeah, you’re right there.”

“All jokes aside, I think I like you too, Zoey.”

I blinked, and suddenly Lake’s face was far too close to mine. Was he leaning in, or was I? Were we both doing it, unaware? And, perhaps most importantly, I wondered: what would happen if Ididkiss him?

Lake’s eyelids were half-closed, his breathing slow and steady. He was so close; it really wouldn’t take much from me to close what little distance there was left between us, to press my lips upon his and let him push out the conflicting, anxious thoughts in my head. To let Lake drown me in his newness, his kindness, even if it was all a show. Sometimes it was good to simply let go.

That’s how I wound up in this weird arrangement with Roman, though.

Fortunately for me, the oven chose that exact moment to go off, the timer beeping to let me know the pizza rolls were done. I jerked away from Lake, practically leaping to my feet and hurrying to the oven, pretending not to notice the disappointment that crossed his face when I pulled back so fast.

Yeah, me and him… it was a bad idea. We were neighbors. We could be friends, but that’s it.

Chapter Eight – Roman

There was something to be said of how a nice, long, hot shower could make you feel. The steam helped your skin, the water washed off all the grime, and the privacy of the room let you relax and let everything go.

And showers were quite necessary after the days I had. No better way to wash the blood off you.

My chest rose and fell, my chin to my chest and my hands flat on the tiled wall beneath the showerhead. I had the heat turned up as hot as it would go, the water pelting my head, coursing down my neck and shoulders. It fell to the floor of the shower, swirling around the drain before disappearing.

Tonight the water ran red. It had been a busy day.

Fingers stretched flat against the tile, attached to hands that created so much havoc, spilled so much blood. I did what I had to, did what I could to protect our interests. There were always people who thought they could use us or get the better of us, but those people found out just how wrong they were to think that way.

The Russo name might not mean what it used to, we might be a dying breed, but I would not go out of this world without a fight, and I owed my allegiance to one family. The Lucianos.

When the water ran clear, when my body was clean, I turned off the water and stepped out. I grabbed a towel, running it over my hair and drying off quickly. In the mirror, my reflection mirrored what I was: a scarred, lean machine made for enforcing the rules and reminding those who thought they were above them. I really did hate the word assassin, because what I did wasn’t always in the shadows or in the darkness, where no one knew I was there.

The ones I went after were always aware of my presence before I killed them. I made sure they realized their mistakes before they breathed their last breaths, and I always left a message behind, warning others not to make the same mistake.

I dropped the towel onto the sink and left the bathroom, heading straight into my room. A large, expansive space filled with hand-crafted wooden furniture. Sleek and modern, everything in my home was new. Some people liked the old, but I was all for new when it came to objects.

Zoey… she was new. I doubted her newness would wear off for a while yet, and when it did—when it did we would figure out what to do. Right now, as it was, I couldn’t ever imagine myself letting her walk away, letting her recant her admission that she was mine.

She was mine, and I would relish every single moment I had to remind her of that fact.

Zoey had gotten my gifts. I’d also heard something very interesting about her neighbor, something I could not sit back and ignore. No, from now on I’d have Carter watch her when I didn’t need him. That, or I’d force her to be here, like I was tonight.

She wasn’t working at the Dollhouse. It was Friday night, and she had nothing but time, so I’d sent Carter to her place to fetch her, to bring her here. She and I had to have a little chat, it seemed, for she did not quite comprehend what it meant to belong to me.

I stood before my dresser, stark naked, taking my time in choosing what I would wear. A knock pounded on my door, and I left the dresser to find Carter standing just outside in the hall. He held his hands behind his back, his nose upturned. “Well?” I asked, unable to know by his expression whether or not he was successful in bringing her here. If I had to guess, Zoey put up a fight.

My girl was not the easiest one around.

“She’s waiting for you,” Carter spoke, his green eyes never once dropping below my bare chest. “She was not thrilled to be summoned.”

I smirked. “I bet she wasn’t. Did you have to drag her kicking and screaming?” What a sight that would’ve been, I bet.

“Almost,” Carter spoke. “I’ll go watch her, until you’re ready for her.” He bowed his head to me before turning and heading away.

Within five minutes, I was dressed in a clean black suit, my damp hair slicked back. I knew I looked good, and I knew with one glance from me, Zoey would melt like she had before. Tonight was about making her realize what she had, who she belonged to, and the limits of my patience.

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