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“And Joshua?”

“Bring me him and track down the man responsible for finding what I want, bring Joshua later on. I’m going to dinner tonight.”

With final instructions given, I made my way out of the room.

I checked the text from a close informant and smirked. I think I needed to go for a run.

Chapter Eight

It rained every night for a week straight.

My tennis shoes resounded off the damp pavement with soft, steady thuds.

Eminem and Ed Sheeran were my tune gods of choice as I jogged along the sequestered nature trail in an attempt to clear my head and relieve the restless energy that seemed to be mounting by the day.

Between the few seconds gap that took place when one song ended and another began, I heard an additional set of footfalls coming from the opposite direction.

Unable to see around the bend up ahead, and feeling paranoid because the sun hadn’t fully risen yet, I hit pause on my phone’s menu button and popped out my wireless ear-buds.

By how heavy the footsteps were, I guessed the other jogger to be male. I was proven correct when he finally came into view. I hadn’t seen him since he’d fucked me in the diner bathroom.

My stomach was immediately inundated with fluttering. I moved to the side and kept my gaze downcast like I had no idea who he was. From the day we met, a small region of my brain had planted a flag for Mateo Remmington and refused to uproot it, regardless of how many times I’d tried to douse it in flames. That same part of my brain was slowly expanding with intense idealizations and an iron-clad fixation.

He had to have parked on the other side of the trails because there were no cars around when I arrived.

I inhaled and exhaled with steady and forced calmness, trying to regulate my breathing.

As he slowed and finally stopped just a few feet in front of me, I did my best not to ogle every golden peak and valley framing a well-defined ab. But I was only human–––a warm-blooded woman at that. I hadn’t gotten to see this much of him yet.

He was completely dressed down–wearing black sweatpants that slightly hung off his hips and black tennis shoes. He had a white wife-beater looped around his neck. His well-toned chest was smooth and bare of hair. The golden color of his skin was a stark contrast with a shaded tattoo of a money rose, pocket watch, and three playing cards wrapping around his left bicep and running the length of his forearm.

A few stray locks of his dark hair had made their way onto his damp forehead.

He was utter perfection. I couldn’t help myself when my eyes drifted down to the impossible to miss and very obvious bulge between his legs that I was newly acquainted with and craving more of by the day.

“I’m glad to see you approve.”

His smug voice had me snapping my attention back to his face. He stood with his hands perched on his hips and an antagonizing grin leveled at me.

“A blind woman would approve,” I retorted.

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or a compliment.” He didn’t stop smiling but his brows furrowed in question.

“Mr. Remmington–––.”

“Mateo,” he instantly corrected. “I don’t like when you call me that. I’m only Mr. Remmington to certain employees, and even then it reminds me too much of my father.”

“Well, Mateo, it was a compliment. You know full well that I think you’re extremely attractive–––oh, my god.”

I slightly shook my head and laughed at the look on his face. He was lapping this up like an alley cat with a deep appreciation for milk.

“I got the bracelet. You really need to stop sending me things. I appreciate it, but it isn’t necessary.”

He thumbed his lower lip, searching my face for something. “Your inability to simply accept something I give you is beginning to piss me off.”

I withheld a sigh and diverted my gaze. We’d been talking every day for the past two weeks while he did whatever it was drug lords did. I finally understood how someone could fall in love over the internet. This was ten times more intense because Mateo was very real, and the things he said to me would make Cupid die of happiness and Sister Mary have a stroke.

But sometimes, his need to have control of every situation––and me––would shine through. He was beginning to do this more and more lately. I knew just as I knew the sky was blue that I was close to seeing another side of him.

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