I park my car illegally on the side of the road and watch her from the driver’s seat. She doesn’t go into the building immediately. Instead, she pulls out her phone and talks on it for a few minutes as she paces back and forth.
A man comes out in a suit—the client she’s meeting.
I study him closer as he approaches her and then pulls her into an aggressively tight hug. He’s at least a decade older than her, his hair has speckles of gray in it, and he has more wrinkles around the eyes than any man our age.
The hairs on my arms stand up, and in my gut, I know this man isn’t a client.
Who is he?
His vile hand slips down from around her lower back, gripping her ass. His other hand tips her head back as his thumb strokes her carotid, like if she makes one wrong move, he’ll apply just the right amount of pressure to kill her and make it look like an accident. It’s a threatening move I’ve made too many times myself.
This is the man she is hunting.
This is the man she plans on killing tomorrow.
My gorgeous huntress, what trouble did you get into? What did he do to you to make you change your mind about killing men?
He had to have done more than just grope her inappropriately. Unfortunately, that’s something that she is used to. Men can’t control themselves around her—they turn into disgusting, rotten pigs who touch without asking.
Liesel knows how to handle men like that. I taught her in the fifth grade how to knee a man in the balls.
So I watch with a smirk, waiting for the moment when she’ll bring this asshole to his knees.
Her face tilts up with a smug smile. This is it—the moment she makes him pay for touching her without her permission.
She leans forward, closing the space between them as he plants a firm kiss on her lips.
I jump out of my car without thinking. My legs start moving toward them. He has no right to touch her! She didn’t ask him to touch her. She didn’t welcome his kiss. She didn’t—
The kiss ends, and I stop in my tracks as I watch her smile up at the man with more brightness than I knew existed in Liesel.
This man made her smile with a kiss.
That’s.
Not.
Possible.
Liesel doesn’t smile, not like that. She prowls and smirks and flashes seductive grins. But she doesn’t smile from true joy and happiness.
And yet, that’s exactly what she’s doing. She’s smiling up at a man a decade older.
Her hand is slipping into his, their fingers intertwining like they’ve done this a million times.
Her purse falls down her shoulder, and he takes it off and loops it over his shoulder, making her laugh.
She’s laughing.
I’m not close enough to hear it, but I’m close enough to see the sparks flying from her face.
Liesel is happy.
I never thought I’d see the day.
This isn’t the man she plans on killing tomorrow.
But he’s the man I want to kill for touching what’s mine.
5
Liesel
I felt Langston all week.
He was watching me every second of every day. I doubt he slept a minute all week.
Langston hasn’t changed at all. I know him better than anyone else.
I avoided the security cameras in my home that I know he tapped into. I avoided most of my usual evening routine.
The only time I put a show on for him was at the office. I drew him in like a hunter draws in prey. I just haven’t decided when or how I’m going to strike against him. At least not yet.
For now, I have more important matters to attend to. I have to kill the man who threatened me and my family.
I have to stop thinking about Langston. It’s impossible, though, since I feel him everywhere now. It’s a strange, yet familiar feeling. One that sends goosebumps up my spine at the most inconvenient times.
But Langston will serve his purpose. He’ll take the fall if or when the time comes for my blackmailer’s death. And then he will get out of my life once again, gone in the night just like before. And I can go back to the life I’ve chosen.
I slip on my white gloves as Waylon enters my bathroom. He hasn’t been sleeping over the last couple of nights since I’ve wanted to throw Langston off and not give him any information about my life.
But I know he saw us kiss yesterday afternoon. I felt Langston’s heated, angry stare. He wasn’t happy with that kiss.
Well, too bad. I haven’t been happy with Langston my entire life.
“You ready, my love?” Waylon asks, as he leans against the doorframe, watching me. His eyes drag down my body, taking every inch of me in, sending butterflies fluttering through my stomach and up my chest.
Waylon’s effect on me is different than any other man I’ve ever met. It’s more intense. More passionate. Just more.
It took me months to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I still haven’t decided, and we’ve been together for over a year. I don’t think I ever will.
But it’s a feeling. There was once a time that I didn’t think I could ever feel. So I welcome feeling anything at all, even if it isn’t exactly pleasant.
I meet his eyes in the mirror. He’s wearing a tux that makes him look rugged and sophisticated. It’s black, like his hair, lightly peppered with gray. When we first met, he used to color it, but I find the fact that he’s older, more mature, and understands the world more than I do, comforting. And I admit, a bit sexy. So he stopped—for me.
His jaw is clean-shaven, showing off its squareness. His eyes are dark with a few lines in the corner that show the depths of his knowledge and worldly experience.
Even though he’s leaning against the wall, his posture is impeccable. He never falters on that. He always stands tall and proud—that’s what I love most about him.
We are the same, him and I—we’ve been handed shitty cards, but we rose above it all. In our own way, we’ve found our power. And now together, we will rule this city—queen and king.
“Yes,” I say, standing from my makeup chair and letting him see the full effect of my hair, makeup, and dress all at once.
Waylon’s smile grows from ear to ear. “You’re perfect, my beautiful one.”
I force myself to smile. I hate compliments, but I should accept one from Waylon.
He holds out his arm, and I take it. He leads me to the waiting limo to take us to a ball where we will wine and dine all night, showing the city what true royalty looks like.
The ballroom is grand and sparkling as we enter. Tonight’s facade is a fundraiser to feed the hungry in the city, but it’s really an excuse for all the wealthy to dress up, network, and show off. They gain more power by making small threats and puffing out their chests to show that they should be the ones in control. That’s what all these men and women are doing. They don’t know that they’ve already lost. Waylon and I have already won.
Or maybe they do. Because all eyes in the room are on us from the second we enter. Everyone tries to jockey for our attention. Everyone murmurs, speaking in hushed tones about us.
I grin. Tomorrow my cheeks are going to hurt from all the smiling, but I’ll keep doing it if it gains me more power.
“I hear you are running for governor,” one of the men says.