Page 19 of Brooklyn Cupid

“The fuck you will,” Roey rasps with a chuckle. “But if this works out, we’ll get the biggest contracts from all the needy screwed-over rich people out there.”

I nod on reflex, but my mind is stuck on the “two months.” Two months with Lucy Moor. Maybe even more!

“Why are you smiling?” Roey asks, and I raise my eyes to see him smirk at me. I didn’t notice I was. He gently punches my shoulder. “We get to wait it out here, in this hole. You get to room with the hottest girl in Brooklyn. Is your dick hard? Yeah?” He pinches my cheek.

“Fuck off, Torres.” I slap his hand away but notice his envious stares as I leave the apartment.

“Jace?” He stops me when I’m almost out the door. “Take your gun and keep it in your apartment. Maybe Diadia fucking Tolia will show up out of nowhere.”

Right.

But as soon as I leave, my thoughts are already about Lucy.

Something has to be done about that dog monster who hates me. The failure with Reznik wasn’t even my fault. The dog is the real villain here.

On the way to Goldsling Towers, I stop by a grocery store and buy the biggest meatiest bone they have. Also a bag of dog food, a squeaky toy, peanut butter, and bacon treats.

My backpack has a gun and dog snacks. Life is an adventure.

I tense as I ride the elevator to the condo, my heart pounding as I put the key in the door.

Every encounter with Lucy sets me on the verge of a nervous breakdown. God, I need to get my shit together. No girl has had this effect on me.

The apartment is quiet when I walk in, and I pause for a moment in the doorway, gazing out the window.

Lucy was right—you don’t get used to the view. I stand for a hot moment staring at the skyline behind the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Lucy is not home, and my heartbeat chills the fuck down when I finally stir and close the door.

A growl comes from behind the kitchen island. I can’t see the white monster, but he’s plotting to kill me, I know it.

Carefully, I set my backpack down on the floor and lower myself to my haunches.

“All right, shithead, game on,” I murmur, unwrapping the meaty bribe. “Come here, you monster,” I coo then repeatedly click my tongue.

Here he is, stepping from behind the kitchen island.

An idiotic chuckle escapes my throat—he’s wearing an eye patch.

“Seriously?” I can’t hold back a goofy grin.

Pushkin is a ridiculous sight—a one-eyed dog with a pirate patch with a skull and crossbones. Lucy is creative, I’ll give her that.

His good eye glares at me for just a second then drops to the bone. He slowly comes up, sniffs it, licks it, then straightens up and stares at me like I offended him.

I shift, immediately evoking a growl from him as he rears.

“Not a gourmet-kinda-guy, huh?” Despite the fact that he lives in a Goldsling luxury condo and sleeps on the parquet floor. “Fine.”

Carefully, I rip the dog food package next, take several pebbles of dog food, and toss them toward Pushkin’s paws.

He sniffs at them then cocks his head at me.

“Picky,” I murmur not a bit disheartened. “Alright. Next one.”

I tear the package with bacon bits, noticing Pushkin sniffing the air.

“You like that? Yeah?” I toss one bacon bit toward his front paws, and his pink tongue immediately licks it off.

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