Page 19 of A Love So Deadly
With each alert, that sentiment is echoed across print and other news media outlets.
I knew Josh. I went on a date with him a number of years ago, and he was the one I always passed information to that I thought might make a good story.
I did that on everything except Kayla and my hate of VMR.
But the punch of his death, his murder, makes my throat swell and eyes itch, so I blame the that for why I don’t hear Lucian or sense him approach. And why I jump when he speaks.
This time, he repeats himself.
“You got here early today.”
I almost look around for the cameras, but I stop myself. Instead, I pick up the scattered envelopes on his desk and clutch it tight against my breasts. I stare up at him.
He takes the air from the room. Makes the thud of my heart in my chest take on a different beat.
“You scared me.”
I know he’s got a sense of humor, dark and odd, and dry. But he doesn’t smile, those intense dark eyes moving over me, lingering on the mail like he can see my breasts.
He says softly, “If I scare you by walking into my office then we have a problem.”
“Why? Are you going to eat me like the big, bad wolf?”
“Isn’t that what big bad wolves do? Eat those who don’t take threats seriously enough?” He shrugs and approaches. His suit is charcoal, three pieces, and with a tie so fine and the darkest blue that I’m utterly convinced it’s bespoke. In contrast, the shirt is snow white.
His cufflinks are black diamond.
And even though the shock and grief of Josh’s death is still inside, I want to drool.
Lucian has the power to block out everything and fill it with him.
“That’s exactly what it is.” He runs a pale, long, elegant finger along the edge of the envelope sticking up so he’s not touching me. He’s not even close to brushing me, yet a streak of heat moves over my flesh and flares and my breath strangles in my throat.
“What is?”
“Being the big bad wolf. You eat up the weak and the stupid.”
He plucks out the envelope, moves to behind his desk, and I turn. It’s like I need to keep him in my line of vision. It’s like I can’t get enough.
Lucian selects a silver letter opener and slices the thick paper of the envelope open, pulling out a letter that he scans. There’s also an ornate card inside that he doesn’t remove. He folds the letter and puts it back in the thick envelope.
Then he pushes it to me. “Leave my mail. RSVP this with a yes.”
I don’t dare look at it now, but I nod. “Anything else?”
“You can leave my mail.”
I’m still hugging it to me like its sacred, so I carefully put it down and push the haphazard pile into something resembling neatness. And then I turn to leave.
“Miss Montague?”
“Yes?” Slowly, I pivot back.
The envelopes are now stacked so neatly I stare at them. My back was turned about a second. How did he?—
His eyes catch mine and the thought fades.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, picking up the next envelope and slicing it open with the same neat and precise movement.
