Page 17 of Lady and the Hitman
“When?”
“Long enough ago to watch you doubt yourself.”
Heat crawled up my throat.
“You read the letter?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he stepped forward again. And again. Until he was directly in front of me. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to keep his face in view.
He reached up.
My heart stopped.
But all he did was press his fingertips beneath my chin. Just enough to make me hold still. To make me feel held—without even using force.
“I read every word, Lady,” he said. “And I watched every hour after.”
My pulse kicked against his hand.
“I didn’t know when—” I started.
“You didn’t need to know.”
He let go.
Stepped back.
And somehow, that was worse than being touched.
“There’s a bag by the door,” he said simply. “Pack it. Now.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re leaving. With me.”
“Where?”
He gave me a look that made my thighs press together before he even opened his mouth.
“Dinner,” he said. “Miami.”
My breath hitched. “Miami?”
His mouth curled at the corner—just the faintest suggestion of amusement. “Do you have somewhere better to be?”
I stared at him.
He didn’t flinch.
And that’s when I understood: this wasn’t about dinner. It wasn’t even about travel.
It was about obedience.
It was about the ask I’d made when I thought no one was listening. The truth I’d written in that form. The words I couldn’t say out loud.
And now here he was, offering me everything I’d said I wanted.
