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No one else has taken an interest in my books and writing as much as him. No one has ever simply gone to my wishlist and ordered me a book outside of a holiday or birthday.
That night in the library has been playing on an infuriating loop in my head for the past few days, especially when I’m reminded of him every time I spot the jacket in my passenger seat that I keep forgetting to return to him.
As soon as he wrapped the jacket over my shoulders, the intoxicating scent of him enveloped me, like ink and fresh paper, a new book cracked open for the first time.
Then liquid heat spread to my core at his seductive words.Let me come inside that perfect pussy, and I’ll write you enough books to fill a library.
He’s the last person who should be turning me on. The last person I should feel an ounce of sympathy for. He could’ve made up that entire sob story about killing his would-be molester and discovering his mother’s dead body after the molester’s brother retaliated.
But somehow, even though he’s a deranged stalker and murderer, I trust what he told me is real. I’m sure a childhood like that could fuck up anyone enough to end up like him.
When I pull into the driveway, Mack and I carry each of the boxes together to get them inside, huffing and sweating by the time we drop the last box in the middle of the living room floor.
Saint really did buy every book on my wishlist for me. I thought he was full of shit. I guess my assessment of him at the start of the semester was accurate—he’s the type of wealthy man with money to burn. But if I get to benefit from it somehow, I’m not complaining. As far as I’m concerned, buying me all the books on my wishlist is the least he can do after stalking and terrorizing me.
Once we drop the final, back-breaking box on the floor, Mack blurts, “I think I have a crush.”
“What?” I pant, hands on my hips as I catch my breath. She hasn’t been interested in anyone since her crazy ex. “On who?”
“His name is Zayden Kingsley?—”
“Zayden Kingsley?”
Her brows lift. “Yeah. Do you know him?”
I want to shake her. “Mack, you worked at a bookstore. How do you not know who Zayden Kingsley is?”
“Oh, yeah. He writes thrillers.” She waves casually, as if she’s not talking about having a crush on one of today’s bestselling writers in the thriller genre. “Anyway, since I’ve basically taken over my boss’s inbox, I’ve been emailing back and forth with Zayden. He’s so easy to talk to and really funny and he signs off all his emails with a cute littlex.” She might as well have hearts bursting from her eyes.
“So that’s why you like your new job so much. You spend all day chatting with your new boyfriend.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning as she tears into a box to examine my stash. “I like my new job because it’s fun and creative and bookish. And Zayden isn’t my boyfriend. I wouldn’t even call us friends. It’s more like...pre-friendship.”
“So . . . an acquaintance?”
“Yes. But an acquaintance who’s funny and interesting and looksreallygood in his author photos.”
“I think I actually had one of his series on my wishlist.”
Mack gushes over each book she pulls from the box. She’s the only person I know who reads more voraciously than I do, but she almost exclusively reads rom-coms. She lifts up a special edition hardcover of S.T. Nicholson’s debut. “Hey! This is that author I’m working for!”
My mouth falls open. She has to be kidding. There’s no fucking way Mack randomly bumped into my favorite author on the entire planet in a little indie bookstore before being handed a job offer on a silver platter. “You’re working forS.T. Nicholson? You’re shitting me.”
“He’s literally the best boss I’ve ever had. Although he’s having me run five separate giveaways this month, and the logistics are a lot more complex than you would expect. You like his books, right?”
I snatch the hardcover out of her hands. “Likehis books? I live to read every word that god of a man writes. You’re his fucking personal assistant? I officially hate you.”
“I tried telling you I could set you up with him! I still don’t know if he’s single, but I can ask. Oh my god, what if we went on a double date? You and S.T. Nicholson, and me and Zayden Kingsley! That would be so cute!” When she opens up a copy of a hockey bully romance, a note falls onto her lap.
I can’t even wrap my head around the fact that Mack knows my favorite author. That he might be single. Not that he’d necessarily be interested in me if he was. And who knows, maybe the face beneath the mask isn’t what I’d want at all.
“Muse, may you think of me when his belt is around her throat. Oh my god!” Mack cackles. “Who sent these to you? Please tell me he’s available for marriage.”
I snatch another book out of the box, a sweet rom-com with a pink cover. Another note inside.Muse, someday you’ll love me as much as you love reading.
My heart skips pathetically before I snap the book shut, tossing it back in the box.
“My stalker.”
