Page 116 of His Ruthless Match
“Just stop!” Eva groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I’ll call pest control tomorrow.”
The rat made another daring escape, darting toward the living room. I lunged after it, knocking over a chair in the process.
“You’re tearing my place apart,” Eva yelled, her voice muffled by her hands.
After several minutes of chaos, the rat disappeared into a crack near the baseboard heater. I stood, breathing heavily, the knife still in my hand. “I don’t see it anymore. It must’ve gotten away.”
Eva glared at me. “Are you sure? Because if I see it again, I’m moving out. I hate the city sometimes.”
I smirked and held out my hand. “Come on, it’s safe now. I’ll personally guarantee it.”
She eyed my hand suspiciously, then glanced around the room as if expecting the rat to reappear. Finally, she sighed and let me help her down.
“For a cat, you’re really bad at catching rats.”
I elbowed her lightly, and she squealed.
“You’re cleaning this mess up,” she said, pointing at the overturned chair and broken lamp.
“Gladly,” I replied, grinning. “It was worth it to see you up there, screaming like a banshee.”
She smacked my arm but couldn’t suppress a small laugh.
As I started cleaning up the chaos, I couldn’t help but smile. Eva might have been furious, but she’d laughed too. And that felt like a win.
I leanedagainst the railing of the balcony and looked out at the city. From this high up, the lights looked like fallen stars, flickering in the darkness, hinting at a thousand secrets on the streets below. A cool breeze ruffled my hair, carrying with it the mingled scents of city life—gasoline, faint cooking spices, that ever-present tang of concrete after a hot day. When I heard the door slide open, I glanced over my shoulder.
Eva stepped out onto the balcony, two wine glasses in hand. Her silk robe was cinched loosely at the waist, and her dark hair fell in lazy waves around her shoulders. She offered me a glass, and I took it. I leaned my hip against the railing, sipping while she eased into one of the plush outdoor chairs.
“I wish we could just go to a bar,” she said with a sigh. “Sit at a table, order a drink, and not think about disguises or who’s watching.”
It felt so natural around her, like the façade I so carefully built up could crumble just a bit. “You know the deal,” I told her. “We’re laying low, only going out when we absolutely have to, and always wearing those lovely disguises you adore so much.”
She groaned. “Ugh. Those disguises. They’re suffocating. And wearing that hot wig while I try to get a buzz? That’d kill the whole vibe.”
I chuckled. Her frustration was justified, but it was also endearingly dramatic. I took another sip of wine, the liquid warming my throat. The moonlight caught on Eva’s robe as she stretched out her legs, and the fabric parted just enough toreveal a tantalizing glimpse of her thigh. Heat curled through my body, as sudden and inevitable as a spark in dry tinder.
I tore my gaze away from her skin, forcing my eyes to wander over the buildings instead. Even so, my mind wasn’t on the skyline. It was replaying images of the last time we stood on this balcony. I could still feel the press of her body against mine, her lips parted as she kissed me with a hunger that matched my own. Desire surged through me, and I tried to quell it with another gulp of wine.
Clearing my throat, I refocused on the city lights. Yet, as I stared at them, my mind flickered to the dangers that lurked behind every shadowy corner. I remembered all too well The Shadow’s warning about there being a hit out on her. Since that night, a constant tension coiled in the pit of my stomach, reminding me that her safety was precarious.
Eva seemed oblivious to my darker thoughts as she gazed dreamily at the skyline. To her, it was just another evening. To me, it was another chance for something to go wrong. But I wasn’t about to ruin the mood with grim reminders. Not yet, anyway.
“This city is so beautiful from up here,” she said quietly, swirling the wine in her glass. “It’s easy to forget how chaotic it is when you’re looking down on it.”
“That’s the trick,” I replied, my voice low. “Beauty’s just a distraction from the chaos.”
She shot me a small, indulgent smile. “You’re so dramatic sometimes,” she teased.
“You love it.”
She snorted into her glass. “Maybe,” she conceded after a moment. Eva leaned back in her chair. The breeze caressed the stray strands of her hair, making them dance around her face. “I feel like taking a bath. I’ve got to soak off the day.”
“Want some company?” The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. For a heartbeat, I thought I’d shattered the fragile balance we’d struck between playful flirtation and serious danger. But then she stood up.
“Sure,” she said, glancing at me over her shoulder with a teasing tilt of her lips. “Why not?”
