Page 44 of Beautifully Ruined
Me:Can I stop you?
Ghost:One way with one word. Always.
Me:I like you watching.
Ghost:Because you’re filthy, dirty. And mine.
I have to stop.
If I don’t, I’m going to embarrass myself right here by coming without even being touched.
In the middle of the street.
Me:I have to go, I’m?—
Cade:Meeting Lia. I know.
I smile,liking this. Or am I loving this? Like the best of both worlds, the way he flips from The Ghost to Cade to The Ghost again.
The Ghost:And don’t think I don’t know you’re talking to someone else.
Me:What are you going to do? Punish me?
The Ghost:Yes.
Now I really do tuck myphone away. I’m turned on, but now that imminent orgasm’s been edged into anticipation.
By the time I reach the bar, I’m feeling steadier, and I take a seat at the bar, ordering a water and a glass of white wine. I take a sip of the wine and drink my water, waiting for Lia.
She doesn’t take long to get there, and she orders an extra dry dirty martini.
I hug her. “A little early.”
Her gaze falls to the faint line on my throat, and her eyes flash as she takes her seat.
“No, it really isn’t. Not after the day I’ve had.”
I frown. “What happened?”
She waves the question away and slaps down her phone to show me a photo of me and Cade taking down Isaac. Cade and Isaac are clear in this photo and the name at the top of the Instagram account is in Cyrillic.
“This influencer caught you and Cade and Isaac in this pic. I follow her, so that’s the only reason I saw this pic.” She leans in. “Right after this, Isaac was arrested and considering all the things he’s done to you…where is he? Apparently, he’s disappeared, presumed missing.”
My stomach turns, and I desperately try to control my reactions. I take a swallow of the wine. “I don’t know.” Which is true. I don’t know what they did with him. I don’t want to know. “I’m not his keeper.”
“But it is beyond romantic that Cade was there and saved you. Why was he there?”
“I…” I flick my gaze away.
She laughs. “I knew it. Things are fire, aren’t they?”
“Lia!” I give her a hard look, but all she does is down half her drink.
“I’ll let you off the hook…for now. But it’s on the list of conversations we must have, but first let me tell you about my week from hell…”
And I happily lose myself in her tales that have nothing to do with danger or death.
We chat for the next half hour before she has to rush back off to work, and I finish my wine and leave.
