Page 5 of Dolls & Daggers
Okay, so the insult didn’t go over her head.
My fabricated smile drops. My blood turns crystalline at the nickname. Heat sears my lungs, stealing my breath.
Joe seems oblivious to my discomfort. Dove tilts her head to the side as she scrunches her button nose. “It’s okay,” she says, her tone too cheery, like a kindergarten teacher explaining asimple word to one of her students. “I’ll teach you how to listen.”
“Well then.” Joe coughs, lightly touching Dove’s back as he motions between us. “Looks like you two are off to a good start. Dove, would you mind showing Wrenley to his office?”
My chest remains tight, but I force a tense smile and nod. Dove’s head swings toward him, breaking our stare, and my lungs finally expand. She places a hand on his shoulder, locking eyes with him. “Of course, Joe. Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
Somehow, her assurance is anything but reassuring.
As he leaves, Dove turns back to me, her smile somehow even larger. She rounds my frame, setting her things on a table in the corner. “So, you want to cover the Baby Doll Killer, huh?”
Fighting the urge to rub the ache in my chest, I watch her unpack—a pink tufted satchel, then her purse—meticulously placing her laptop, phone, and notepad on the desk before glancing at her keyboard. Her big blue eyes flick to mine for a split second before she adjusts it slightlythengives me her full attention, choosing not to speak on the fact that I disturbed her desk when I sat there.
Was it a bold move? Probably. Nothing screams,hey, I’m coming for your joblike acting as though it’s already mine. I could do without the light pink wallsand cream crown molding—though, on closer inspection, they might actually be wallpaper.
But I can daydream about renovations later.
Feigning contemplation, I buy time to calm down. There’s no possible way she could know what that nickname does to me. It’s the literal meaning of my name. I fight the urge to growl when she uses it again, this time impatient for my answer.
“Sing, Songbird. Why her and not the Shadow Siren? You are aware she’s my area of expertise? If you’re such a fan of my work and all.”
Somehow, though she’s chastising me, she makes it sound like praise. Her voice—a raspy blend of sex and bubblegum pop—is as paradoxical as her appearance, as the darkness lurking beneath her milk-and-honey complexion.
Stop comparing them.
“Because even though they’re both basically vigilantes, the Shadow Siren isn’t nearly as interesting as the Baby Doll Killer. She’s basic in her form and not nearly as intricate as the Doll.”
Dove’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline. “Oh?”
I don’t mention my obsession with the Baby Doll Killer. That I’ve been consumed by her ever since her first video was leaked online. Dove doesn’t need to know my fixation runs deeper than the Mariana Trench.
I swearthe corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying to fight her amusement. “Is that so?”
Charm filters back into my timbre. “Do you not agree?”
“It’s just interesting to hear you basically compliment a serial killer who murders men.” She laughs, tilting her head. The sunlight filters in through the window behind her, bathing her in a glow that makes her seem almost ethereal.
“Bad men who prey on innocent children.” I don’t mask the bite in my tone, and it seems to placate her.
“Well, how about this? Why don’t you start by working on something about the Shadow Siren, and I’ll take a look before?—”
“Are you my boss, or is Joe?” I cut her off.
Dove bites her bottom lip, pearly white teeth that are too straight to be natural peek out before she lets the plump flesh go and rounds the desk. Perky breasts strain against her pale pink silk blouse, every inch of her swathed in a cotton candy color scheme from her sparkly eyeshadow to her platform heels.
When she reaches me, I can’t help but acknowledge how our vast height difference turns me on. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine what she’d feel like beneath me. Those big blue eyes looking up at me while she struggles to take my cock. Soft curves reddening from the strike of my palm. My height kinkflares. Without her shoes, she’s even shorter, which, unfortunately for me, really makes me want to bend her over her desk and bury myself inside her until she can taste me.
I don’t remember the last time I had such a strong reaction to a woman.
It worries me that it’s possibly because she looks so much likeher, which, in my mind, is completely unacceptable.
She hums as though she knows where my mind has gone, stepping into me until our chests nearly brush. “Would you like me to be your boss?” Her sultry question hits me right between my legs, causing a swell of revulsion to splash against my insides.
“I’d like you to show me to my office,” I reply, breathier than I mean to.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Wren? Stop acting like a fucking teenager.
