Page 33 of Wicked S.O.B.

“Dammit.” He reaches into his jacket. He reads the message and slides the phone back into his pocket.

“It’s okay,” I say with a smile.

“It’s not okay. I don’t want to let you go. I miss you too much when you’re not with me.”

I run my fingers over his jaw and mouth because I can’t help it. He’s so damn good-looking that it’s a privilege just to touch him. “But think how awesome the reunion will be tonight. Quiet dinner at home, followed by me for dessert.”

He gives me another of those blinding smiles I’m still getting used to. “I prefer you for every course.”

His phone vibrates a few times in a row, and his smile disappears. Eyes fiercely intent on mine, he slides his arms around me and gathers me into his body. “Thank you for this afternoon, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I needed it.” His kiss tells me how much. We’re both breathless when he lifts his head.

“See you later,” I murmur.

He nods and stays in the elevator when I walk away. I feel his eyes on me until I don’t, and I know he’s gone.

In the locker room, I replace my tights with my jeans but leave Quinn’s shirt on. A quick touch-up of makeup and I’m ready to go. It’s only as I start to head upstairs that I remember I was supposed to alert Lionel when I was ready to leave.

Shit.

I left home in the town car. What are the chances that my stalker would’ve known where I was headed? I pause before reaching for the basement door, torn between playing it safe and the fierce need to not let fear rule my life.

Eventually, I reach for the phone. Lionel answers on the first ring. “I’ve just finished having the car valeted, but there’s a bit of traffic in Midtown. I hope the wait won’t be too inconvenient?”

I make up my mind and head up the stairs. The alley is quiet, and when I reach the street, the feeling of being watched is absent. I breathe a sigh of relief. “It’s fine. Go back home. I’ll take a cab.” Or the subway, which will be even faster.

The driver hesitates. “Respectfully, the boss isn’t going to like that, Miss Gilbert.”

“I’ll deal with itifit comes up, Lionel.”

“Very well, Miss Gilbert.” His slightly clipped tone suggests my subtle hint of I-won’tmention-it-if-you-don’t didn’t go down well.

When I hang up, I feel a little more in control. But I accept that maybe taking the subway is pushing my luck a little, so I decide on a cab instead. Midafternoon on Wall Street is just as busy as any other time of day. Most of the cabs that race past are occupied. When I spot one half a block away, I nearly dislocate my shoulder throwing out my arm to catch the driver’s attention. Thankfully, he spots me, and I smile in relief when he veers my way.

I reach for the door at the same time as another hand lunges for it. I gasp and jump out of the way to avoid colliding with the sharply dressed man who’s appeared next to me.

“Oh, I think this is mine…” My words trail off when I look at him properly. He’s big. Huge in fact, like he spends his days wrestling dragons. Or moving mountains. The guy is handsome in his own way, but he’s not my type. These days I have only one type—Quinn Blackwood.

I step back, beginning to get a little uncomfortable with the way he’s looking at me. It’s the same way most of the men looked at me back at the Villa. But with an extra layer of something I can’t put my finger on. “You can have it if you want. I’m not in a hurry.”

“What kind of gentleman would I be then? But there’s no reason why we can’t share it. I’m headed to Hell’s Kitchen. You?”

His voice is low, pleasant even, but I take another step back.

“I’m…not. But thanks anyway.” I know my response is borderline rude, but so soon after talking myself out of my fear, I’m wondering if I should’ve waited for Lionel.

The man watches me for another tight, unsettling second, his gray eyes unblinking. Then he pulls and holds the back door open for me. “Finders keepers. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

I get into the cab, and he shuts the door after me. I give the driver my address, and when he moves off, I look out the back window. The stranger is turned away, strolling down the street in search of his own cab. Whatever interest he had in me is probably forgotten. If it was there in the first place.

You’re being paranoid.

I blow out a breath and fight to get my uneven heartbeat under control. Just like when I was on the run, I know the shadows are there, but I’m beginning to see danger everywhere. Plus my emotions aren’t helped by the knowledge that Quinn is still in the dark about my stalker.

Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. I’m going to tell him either way, but it would be awesome to have the reassurance that we’re on firmer ground before I throw another grenade at us.

For the rest of the journey, I mull over the ways to deliver the news when the time comes. None of them end with Quinn calmly accepting news of my stalker. When our apartment building comes into view, I give up thinking about it. I’m relieved to be home, and for the rest of the afternoon, I intend to just chill.

That’s exactly what I do until it’s time to get dinner together. My skills in the kitchen haven’t much improved in the last year, so it’s a good thing the apartment building comes with two Michelin-star chefs who cater exclusively to residents. I order the main course of New York strip steak with salad for Quinn and chicken Parmesan with shaved truffles for myself. Not to feel completely useless, I turn on the oven and slide in a tray of garlic bread before I change into an off-white cotton, flirty jersey dress that stops at midthigh. I leave my hair free and apply a touch of lip gloss to finish off.

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