Page 12 of Crave

“Good boy,” I pat his face again. “Make sure you remember that when the police talk to you later, because if you don’t, I’ll be visiting you at your home and very slowly you’ll be losing much more than your hand. Understood?”

He vigorously shakes his head at me in agreement, and I slip a hood over his head as two of my guys let themselves into the building.

“No names,” I command before they have an opportunity to speak. “This one lives to send a message. Drop him in Central Park where cops will find him. And make sure you don’t get seen.”

“Yes, boss,” they both quickly acknowledge me in unison.

As they drag his pathetic ass to the exit, I look down at my watch to find it is just after midnight.

Plenty of time to drive across town to check on mi reina.

ten

ALEXYS

It’s been a week since my date with Kyle, and as eager as he seemed to give me what was probably going to be the best three minutes of my life, I haven’t heard a peep from him since he stuck me with the check. My texts are all sitting on delivered and his dating profile has been deleted.

The unknown texter has been nearly as non-existent, but I know he’s still there. It’s as if I can feel him watching me from the shadows. It concerns me that I’m not quite sure how that makes me feel.

Is it wrong to like the idea of a man being completely and utterly obsessed with you?

Yes, Lex. That’s how you wind up in a sex dungeon or buried in a shallow grave upstate somewhere.

Yet, when my cell phone buzzes on my desk, I lunge for it like I’m in high school and know the quarterback is calling to ask me out.

Nope…not the quarterback.

“Lex, it’s Mr. Ramirez,” his smooth voice comes through the phone after I answer. “Clear my calendar for the rest of the day. This meeting is going to keep me busy much longer than expected.”

As horrible as I thought it was going to be working for him, this past week really hasn’t been that bad. I’m mostly kept busy with clearing his calendar because unexpected meetings off-site keep springing up. And as shallow as it may be, he gets a pass on his awkward and abrasive behavior because I thoroughly enjoy staring at him from my desk.

All jobs have their pros and cons.

It just so happens the pros of this one are a hefty salary and someone hot as sin to occasionally think about as I fuck myself before bed.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else before I go?”

He mumbles something in Spanish, which I don’t quite catch, and abruptly hangs up the phone.

Again, he gets the hot as fuck pass…

I really just need to get fucked.

After quickly clearing his almost empty calendar, I grab my stuff and head home for the day. Sitting on the couch, I pull up one of the many dating apps on my phone.

More correctly, a hook-up app.

Swiping through nearby men, I look for one with a profile that screams ‘no strings hook-ups only’. Finding one that looks like he’ll do, I am about to message him when a text pops up over his profile.

UNKNOWN

What are you doing mi reina?

I thought I was clear that I don’t like you dating other men?

How the fuck do you know what I’m doing?

And who said I’m looking to date him?

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