Page 75 of Moth to a Flame

“Explain. Tell us exactly why we shouldn’t be worried.”

I lean back in my chair, crossing my ankle over my knee. “Because I’m not reckless. Is that enough?”

They both shake their heads.

Fine. Fine. Fucking fine. They won’t let me off the hook without an explanation and yes, fine again, I owe it to them. The clean version of it, anyway.

I start with an apology for wasting their time. It’s as unnatural to me as telling a woman that I love her. Then I go on to tell them that the girl I stalked is mine now. Just like my company is.

Their eyes bulge out as I admit and own my possessiveness.

Beverly’s smile comes next as she congratulates me.

“You’re serious about her. That’s a good thing.” Vince sighs, trying his best to smile. “Is she okay?”

I know why he’s asking, and it doesn’t hurt my feelings one fucking bit. I’d asked myself the same question over the two weeks I stalked her.

But she’s fine. A couple of taps on my phone and the feed from the security cameras in her store are up on my screen. I melt—fucking dissolve—at the sight of her at the cash register.

Then I spin it toward him. “Does she not look okay to you?”

He frowns. Shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, she’s fine.” The phone is back in my pocket. “I’m doing everything I can to take care of her, not thinking of a million ways to kill her.”

Beverly gasps.

“My mother set a bad example.” I shoot her a glare. “That’s what Vince is worried about. That I wouldn’t have the first clue about being in a healthy relationship.”

Of course I do. That’s why I’m planning on buying a chastity belt for Regan as soon as I get out of here.

Which is none of their business. I’ve told them all they need to know. I can’t take another moment without her.

“As long as I’m alive.” I’m out of my chair. “Regan will be safe.”

The need for her grows and festers and my goddamn skin itches. I fling my bag over my shoulder.

Words likeokayandcall me if you need woman advicefollow me out of the conference room.

Background noise. The whole world is gray and dull and motherfucking boring when I have the most vivid, alive woman waiting for me just twenty minutes away.

My woman.

Mine.

“A gift?” Regan’s cheeks flush as I hand her the square velvet box. “For me?”

The urge to destroy every one of her ex-boyfriends for not spoiling her is intense.

Until I remember she hasn’t had any.

Doesn’t matter. I’ll shower her with gifts, as many as I can fit in our home.

Yes. Our home.

Not here, although her apartment is nice. Homey.

But the place I live in is better, objectively speaking. There’ll be enough space for her and our future children. She’ll have rooms upon rooms for her books. A space to host her book club.

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