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“Sorry for your loss,” he says. His voice holds no sympathy as he stands in front of me like an eerie castle.
“Edda was a sweet woman.” I sigh. “She didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“If it makes you feel better, your father will murder every man responsible.”
“That won’t bring her back, though.”
“It’ll soothe the family’s soul.”
Will it?
My father wiped out the entire organization responsible for my mother’s death. It didn’t bring her back. Sure didn’tsoothe our souls.
“Why’s the solution always murder? Maybe we should offer them a therapy gift card or a one-way ticket to the psych ward? I feel like you’d do especially well with a vacation there.”
The corners of his mouth turn up. “Murder is our therapy, princess.”
Goose bumps ripple along my skin.
Princess.
I never thought I’d be turned on by such a simple name.
A name I hate anyone else calling me.
“Therapy is supposed to help with your problems,” I say. “Murder leads to more problems. There’s no reward.”
“Knowing they’ll no longer breathe is the reward.”
“I think you’re a legit psychopath.”
“And you’re in la-la land if you think talking about my feelings will ever cure the madness embedded inside me.”
“How’s your pet snake?”
“Ace is doing well.” His facial muscles relax, releasing a tiny bit of tension. “Would you like to visit him? Maybe he’ll listen to this therapy you speak so highly of. I heard he’s a great listener.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Can’t promise he’s not a biter though.”
“Visit him so you can kill me next?”
“Kill you? You’re untouchable, princess.” The statement rolls off his tongue with ease and familiarity, like he was taught that at a young age.
My pulse elevates. “No one is untouchable.”
“No onebut you.”
“What do you mean,untouchable?”
He raises his large-knuckled hand and separates his fingers. “It means that if even one of my fingers touches you, your father will kill me, my family, and, hell, probably even my fucking snake.”
My thoughts wander to the warehouse, remembering how he touched me, fully aware of who I was. That didn’t stop him then. It doesn’t stop him now either as he reaches out and presses his palm over my racing heart.
His touch doesn’t soothe me.
It sets me aflame.
He mirrors the smug look I gave him moments ago when he feels my heart running wild beneath his hand. “Do I make you nervous?”
“No.” I glower at him. “And for someone who claims I’m sountouchable, you can’t seem to keep your hands off me.”
