Page 31 of Lady and the Hitman
I trusted the strange man who had shown up in my house without warning.
I trusted the service with no listed phone number, no way to follow up, no customer support chat box at the bottom of the screen.
I trusted Alpha Mail.
And I had no good reason to.
Only instinct.
Only this burning, unshakable feeling that he wasn’t here to hurt me.
He was here to ruin me—in the exact way I wanted.
“Left at the kiosk.”
I turned.
The scent of fried food and sun-warmed pavement filled the air. Somewhere nearby, a street performer launched into a sax solo. I passed a vendor selling knockoff handbags. A child dropped their ice cream.
“Stop.”
I did.
“Now take a deep breath. Let it out slowly.”
I followed the command, chest rising and falling like a quiet confession.
“Everyone here sees a woman alone. A tourist. A body in a crowd.”
His voice dropped, darker.
“But I see your thighs clenching. I see how wet you are.”
My knees buckled slightly.
“Walk.”
I moved.
“You’ll pass a railing by the water. I want you to go there. Put both hands on it. Look out.”
I found it.
Did as I was told.
The water sparkled beneath the last light of day, boats drifting lazily, sea birds crying overhead. Behind me, the sounds of the marketplace grew louder. Music. Voices. The clink of glasses.
But in my ear?—
“You have no idea how good you look like that. Just barely holding it together.”
I blinked against the breeze.
“Spread your feet a little.”
I did.
The wind caught the hem of my dress.
