Page 20 of Stalk Me

“You misunderstand me.” I trace one finger along her desk, watching her track the movement. “I don’t wish to own you. I want to unleash you.”

She backs away a step, but her pupils dilate. “I don’t need unleashing.”

“No?” I circle around the desk, savoring how she holds her ground despite her urge to retreat. “Then why do your hands shake? Why does your breath quicken when I’m near?”

“That’s not—” She cuts herself off, fists clenching at her sides. “You don’t intimidate me.”

The lie permeates the space between us. I want to chase it from her lips, replace it with truths she’s too afraid to voice.

“Good.” I stop mere inches from her. “I prefer you defiant. It makes the eventual surrender so much more satisfying.”

Color floods her cheeks, but she doesn’t back down. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“I’m sure of what I see in your eyes, Sofia. The same hunger that burns in mine.”

The catch in her breath tells me I’ve struck true. Still, she raises her chin, meeting my gaze with that delicious mix of fear and challenge.

“Get out of my gallery.”

Perfect. Every show of resistance only feeds my desire to possess her completely.

I lean in closer, my breath ghosting across her lips. Her pulse jumps beneath the delicate skin of her throat. She tilts her face up, eyes half-lidded, body swaying toward mine. The scent of her perfume—jasmine and vanilla—clouds my senses.

But I don’t close that final distance. Instead, I sweep my thumb over her bottom lip, savoring her sharp inhale.

“The protection money won’t be a problem anymore.” My voice drops lower, rougher. “Consider it handled.”

Sofia’s eyes snap open. “Just like that? How?”

A laugh rumbles in my chest. Her naiveté is endearing—she truly has no idea who I am or the power I wield in this city. The thought of enlightening her piece by piece, watching realization dawn in those expressive eyes, sends a thrill through me.

“Let’s just say I have some influence.” I trace my finger along her jaw. “No one will trouble you again.”

“Influence?” Her brow furrows. “What kind of influence?”

“The powerful kind.” I step back, enjoying how she sways forward before catching herself. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

A pretty pink stain flushes her cheeks. “You’re an art collector.”

“Among other things.” The corner of my mouth lifts. “Do yourself a favor, Sofia. Research me when I leave. It might prove illuminating.”

I turn to leave, savoring the way Sofia’s breath comes in short, uneven gasps. Her pupils have dilated so wide that only a thin ring of green-gold remains. The flush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck betrays her arousal.

“Until next time.” I pause at the doorway, drinking in how she grips her desk for support and her knuckles have gone white.

A light sheen of sweat glistens at her temples, and her chest rises and falls rapidly beneath her silk blouse. The sight stokes the fire in my blood. Such a visceral response from barely touching her—I can only imagine how she’ll react when I finally claim her properly.

Her lips part, but no words emerge. The great Sofia Henley is rendered speechless by my proximity alone. Pride and possessiveness surge through me.

“You should look into me.” I keep my voice low and intimate. “I wouldn’t want you unprepared for what comes next.”

A small whimper escapes her throat. She presses her thighs together, an unconscious tell that sends heat racing throughmy veins. Every expression, every tiny movement reveals her desperate need.

I leave her there, trembling and aroused. The sound of her shaky exhale follows me down the hallway.

9

SOFIA

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