Page 44 of Mastered By Desire

“Yes,” I say, at the same time Mick says, “No.”

The guard gestures toward me. “You, young lady, can come inside.” She then turns to Mick. “You, sir, should move along. I don’t want to see your face again today. Understand?”

Mick looks like he wants to mouth off with some stupid retort, but instead he shakes his head. “Be careful, Leah.”

The guard leads me inside, looking over her shoulder. “That sounded like a threat, miss. Do you want me to call the police?”

“I can do it, but thanks.”

I have the number of the officer who helped me report the paint on my car. Once my tutoring sessions are over, I make the call.

The officer can’t do anything about Mick having a conversation with me in public, but he does make a note for my file. It’s something, I guess.

Even if it doesn’t feel like enough.

Leah

Mick is nowhere to be seen when I leave the library. I tug my coat tighter around my body. It isn’t even that cold, but the extra fabric gives me a false sense of security.

I wish seeing Mick hadn’t made me so jittery, but maybe seeing him was a positive thing. Get that first sighting out of the way, warn him off. It’s over for good, he knows that now.

When I get back to Dmitri’s place, all the windows are dark. Of course—he’s working tonight.

As soon as I step inside, I stare at the couch.

Heck. I don’t think I can do this.

I don’t want to be alone. Not here.

I also don’t want to hang out with Danica. Anything I say to her will involve dodging questions or telling half-truths or outright lies.

What else can I do tonight? Is there someone else I can call to hang out?

“Baby girl, if you want more of the darkness, call me.”

Gage’s card is still in my coat pocket. The edges are less crisp than they used to be, after I’ve repeatedly run my fingers along them.

This is insanity. I shouldn’t even consider it.

And yet I’m taking out the card and my phone and composing a text message.

Wait. He said,“…call me.”

He doesn’t want a text. He wants a phone call.

I close my eyes. Am I really going to do this? For some reason, speaking on the phone is a lot scarier than texting. It’ll probably go to voicemail. What will I even say?

Screw it. My other option is sitting here on the couch where Dmitri and I fucked last night. Nope, no way.

I dial and listen to the ring tone.

“Hello?” he answers.

That voice of his. It’s so rich and yummy.

“Hi,” I say. “This is Leah. From the club the other night.”

He doesn’t say anything right away.

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