11
Alex
I PRESS MY BACK against the brick wall, letting shadows swallow me whole. The alley stinks of piss and yesterday’s garbage, but I don’t move. I’ve been here for two hours already, checking my watch, checking the street, checking the entrance of Vincent’s apartment building. I know exactly what this looks like—stalker shit. Obsessive. Unhinged. I don’t care.
The memory of Vincent in that lace harness burns hot in my gut. The way he fought me and melted into me at the same time. The contradictions of Vincent Bell have always driven me fucking crazy.
A cat knocks over something metal further down the alley. I don’t flinch. My body’s too wound up with anticipation to react to anything that isn’t Vincent. I check my phone again—2:37 AM. His shift should have ended at 2. The walk from The Siren to this shitty apartment complex takes exactly twelve minutes.I timed it yesterday.
I’m aware of how fucked up this is—standing in a dark alley, waiting to ambush my stepbrother. Normal people don’t do this. But I stopped being normal a long time ago. Maybe I’ve always been like this.
My pulse kicks up when I hear footsteps approaching—quick, purposeful steps I’d recognize anywhere. I press deeper into the shadows.
He comes into view beneath the single flickering streetlight at the entrance to the alley. His golden-brown hair catches the light, glowing against the darkness. He’s changed out of his work clothes into black jeans and a loose gray sweatshirt that hangs off his frame. Keys already in hand, head down, moving fast.
My body tenses like a predator spotting prey. I wait until he’s almost past my hiding spot, then I move.
One step, two, and I’m on him. My hands grab his shoulders, spinning him around and shoving him back against the brick wall. His head hits with a dull thud that makes me wince internally, but I don’t ease up. I press my body against his, pinning him with my weight. His bag falls to the ground with a soft thump.
“What the—” His voice cuts off as he recognizes me, amber eyes widening before narrowing to furious slits. “Alex. What the fuck?”
“Hello to you too, Vincent.” I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. He’s so beautiful when he’s angry—all fire and sharp edges.
Vincent pushes against my chest, but I don’t budge. His strength is impressive for his size, but I’ve got five inches and thirty pounds on him, not to mention years of my father’scombat training.
“Get off me,” he snarls, shoving harder. “Now.”
“Make me,” I taunt, leaning closer until our faces are inches apart.
Vincent’s chest heaves against mine. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”
“Stalking is such an ugly word,” I say, grabbing his wrists when he tries to push me again. “I prefer to think of it as… persistent interest.”
“You’re insane,” he spits, struggling as I force his wrists above his head, pinning them against the brick with one hand. “Let go of me, or I swear to God—”
“You’ll what?” I press closer, using my body to keep him immobile. “Scream? Go ahead. I’m sure the fine residents of this shithole would love the midnight entertainment.”
Vincent stills, his jaw working as he grinds his teeth. I can practically see him calculating his options, weighing his chances. Always strategic, my Vincent.
“What do you want?” he finally asks, voice low and tight with controlled fury.
My free hand finds the hem of his sweatshirt, fingers slipping underneath to touch warm skin. His stomach muscles tense, contracting under my touch.
“You know what I want,” I say, voice dropping lower. “The same thing I’ve always wanted. The truth.”
Vincent huffs out a laugh that contains zero humor. “And you thought assaulting me in an alley was the way to get it?”
“After our little dance at The Siren?” My fingers trace up his ribs, exploring the terrain of his body like it belongs to me. Maybe it does. “I think we’ve moved past polite conversation, don’t you?”
A shiver runs through him—subtle, but I feel it. His body responding to mine even as his eyes flash murder.
“There was no ‘our little dance,’” he hisses. “You paid for a service, then broke the rules. That’s it.”
My hand slides higher, thumb brushing over his nipple. Vincent’s breath catches, his pulse visibly jumping in his throat.
“No lingerie today?” I taunt, voice low and rough against his ear. “Shame. I liked it.”
Vincent turns his face away, but not before I catch the color rising in his cheeks. “Why the fuck did you tell my mother you saw me?”
