Page 48 of My Masked Shadow
“Still here,” I point out.
She sighs and looks out over the city. The lights reflect in her eyes, softer now. “This is… nice,” she admits. “It feels… unreal.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly, watching her more than the view. “I know the feeling.”
Her gaze slides back to me. Something in her expression makes my chest tight.
I clear my throat and reach into my jacket before I chicken out. “Got something for you,” I say, sliding the velvet box onto the table.
Her eyes widen. “If you propose I’m jumping off this building.”
I snort. “Relax. I like having you in one piece.”
“You say that now…”
“Open it, firecracker.”
She does, obviously wary. When she sees the earrings, her mouth falls open. “They’re…” she starts, then shuts her mouth, blinking fast.
“You like them?” I ask, suddenly more tense than I was in the sim with Barbara’s ass in the air.
Her thumb brushes one tiny gold bee. “They’re beautiful,” she whispers. She closes the box carefully, like it’s something precious. “Thank you,” she says, and it’s soft enough to make me want to flip the table, drag her into my lap, and make her say my name in that same tone over and over.
“You’re welcome, little bee.”
For a while, it’s easy. Too easy. We flirt through dessert, share bites off each other’s plates, her tongue darting out to catch a smudge of chocolate at the corner of her mouth that I would have killed to lick off myself.
I’m leaning in, my hand sliding higher on her thigh, making her breath catch, when the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
The air shifts.
I’ve felt it before—Afghanistan, shitty back alleys where deals go bad and bullets fly. A subtle change in pressure, in silence, like the world holding its breath.
I scan the room over her shoulder, my smile not changing.
Three men I haven’t seen before. Alone, that wouldn’t matter. This is Manhattan; strangers are the main export. Butthey’re just a little bit too stiff. Their eyes keep moving, never really focusing on their meals.
One stands near the bar like he’s waiting for the drink that’s already in front of him. Another has taken a table at the far side with a perfect line of sight to the entrance and most of the room, back to a column. The third just walked in and is talking quietly to the hostess, his gaze flicking once—just once—toward me.
“Ethan?” Barbara’s voice is tentative. “You just went somewhere in your head.”
I force my shoulders to loosen. “Don’t freak out,” I say in my calmest voice.
“Wow, what a reassuring sentence,” she mutters.
I squeeze her thigh, just above the knee. “Hey. Eyes on me, firecracker.”
She does. God, she trusts me so easily sometimes it feels like a blade to the ribs. Especially since she’ll never know how much of her trust I’ve already betrayed by spying on her.
“We’re going to take a little walk,” I murmur, still looking at her like we’re talking dirty. “We’re going to go through that door—” I nod toward the service entrance by the bar. “—and we’re going to keep walking until I say stop.”
Her lashes flutter. “Is this some kind of weird public play?”
“Wish it was,” I say. “It’s not. Don’t look around. Just… trust me.”
Something in my tone must get through, because the teasing drops from her face. “Is it something dangerous?” she asks under her breath, not moving her eyes from mine. “Emily told me about her getting kidnapped. She said you didn’t get the guy in charge. Is it them?”
Smart girl.
