Page 18 of Forever Fake

Happily, humming low to myself, I make my way from one dessert to the next, getting a taste of them all. I’ll never tell Blake this, but I’m glad he ordered one of everything—having to decide on only one would have been a travesty and broken my heart.

He intently watches me, but doesn’t comment. One corner of his mouth twitches, and I can only figure that he finds my moans and gasps amusing. He really doesn’t know what he’s missing by not having dessert.

Once I’ve sampled each one, I set my spoon down and sigh. “That was delicious.”

“Aren’t you going to finish them?” He surveys the dozen desserts with a single bite missing from each.

“Are you joking? Do you have any idea how many calories that would be in one sitting?” I shake my head in disbelief.

“Very well.” He snaps his fingers and our server appears. “We’ll take these to go.”

“You could have some,” I urge him.

“I don’t do sweets.”

“Why? Would they ruin your bitter disposition?”

His lips twitch again. “Probably.”

My dessert’s packaged up and Blake pays the bill, then we’re on our way out of the restaurant. As we weave our way through the occupied tables, my fingers tingle with the need to defy his orders. I mean, seriously, what’s he going to do about it? Without overthinking it, I swipe a silk Hermes scarf from a woman’s handbag and tie it around my wrist.

We wait at the cloakroom to get our coats, and Blake turns to me. His gaze immediately latches onto the scarf. How is that even possible? Is he really that observant?

Under his scrutiny, a shiver runs down my spine.

“Where did you get that, magpie?” His tone’s low and dangerous. It sends a slight thrill through me and I lift my chin.

“None of your business.” My voice comes out breathy.

His fingers curl around my upper arm and he pulls me close. “I said no more stealing. I meant it.”

He removes the scarf and gives it to the attendant. “Put that in Lost and Found.” Then he hauls me out of the restaurant like I’m some disobedient child. He shoves me, and the leftovers, into the waiting car the valet brought around, then settles into the driver’s seat. “You like to test people, don’t you?”

I eye him from the passenger seat, but don’t answer.

“Test me all you want, my little magpie, but I promise that every action you take will have a consequence. So be prepared.”

With those ominous words, he drives me home to my parents’ house.

CHAPTER 9

Blake

Turns out I am helping Kozlov tonight. After I drop Ginevra off at her parents’ house, I go home and read through the information Kozlov sent me about his club problem. It doesn’t take me long to find the killer’s pattern. He always strikes at the end of the late night shift change. WhileRiot’slegitimate business closes down in the early morning hours, the underground gambling doesn’t finish until well after dawn. Those are the waitresses he’s targeting.

I hack intoRiot’ssecurity cameras, as well as those from surrounding businesses. Then I wait. When a heavy-set man enters the dead end alley and never reappears, my gut tells me it’s the rapist we’re seeking. He’s lying in wait for his next victim.

I make the drive toRiotin record time, while texting Roman De Luca to meet me there.

Slamming my door shut, I sprint along the alley, toward the sound of a woman’s screams, with Roman at my side. I hope we’re not too fucking late. His victim must have clocked out early tonight. To her own peril.

Our soles pound against the grimy asphalt as we round the corner to the alley behind the club. The only light comes from a flickering bulb in a fixture on the building, leaving most of thecorridor in deep shadow. Grunts and muffled cries draw us to the far corner.

Roman and I pull the bulky man off the woman with enough force to send him stumbling backward. He lands on his ass. Before he can get to his feet, I’m on him, shoving him to his knees.

“Get out of here,” Roman barks at the terrified waitress, who darts away, seeking refuge inRiotthrough a side door. As soon as she’s gone, he turns toward me. “What have we got here?”

I grip the guy by the hair and pull his head back, then punch him in the face. His nose makes a satisfying crunch as inky blood streams down his chin and drips to his chest.

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