She's not here.
Her body is running the route, but nobody's home behind her eyes.
Something is wrong. Very fucking wrong. And if my suspicions about my shadow are right, I know exactly what killed the sun.
Marigold grabs my mug and silverware with mechanical precision, gliding to my booth as the wood protests beneath me. Silent, she turns for the coffee pot. Steam curls between us, and I let my gaze devour her, searching for any sign of the woman I know.
It’s the same face, same hands, same everything on the outside. But now there’s a barricade, thrown up quick and locked down tight. Something she built in a hurry, and it’s holding me out.
“Do you want your normal?”
Her voice is flat, dead air. She’s looking at me, but she’s lookingthroughme, as if I’m just another piece of the furniture. I fucking hate it. I want to reach out, grab her by the waist, and shake her until that chaotic spark flares back to life.
“What I want,” I say, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous vibration, “is for you to talk to me.”
That fake, plastic smile slides back into place. It’s an insult.
“Sorry, sir. That’s not what I get paid for. There are plenty of locals who I’m sure would be delighted to keep you company.”
The 'sir' hits me like a physical strike. My dick kicks behind my denim, a primal, jagged reaction to the submission in the word, but the rest of me is seeing red. I hate the distance. I hate the formality. Most of all, I hate that she’s treating me like a stranger.
For the first time since I hauled her into my orbit, I’m hitting a wall I can’t climb. There’s no spark to fan, no darkness to coax out of the shadows. There’s just… a void.
I reach out, my fingers circling her wrist. She doesn't flinch. She stills, the movement of the coffee pot stopping mid-air. Hereyes finally lock onto mine, and the emptiness in them is scary as fuck. It’s a flat, dead landscape where her fire used to be.
“What’s going on, Goldie?” My voice softens, coaxing. Right now, I’m not the club’s secretary. I’m just a man, reaching for his woman in the dark.
She tilts her head, studying me like I’m a specimen under glass. “I don’t know what you mean.”
"Yeah, you do. You're not yourself."
Then I see it. A flash, quick and involuntary, something alive moving behind her eyes before she can pull it back.
There you are.
This time, the smirk curling her lips is something else entirely. Bold, a touch rebellious. This is the real her.
“God forbid a girl have an off day, huh?”
“Is that what this is?” I keep hold of her wrist, feeling her pulse jump. I'm pushing, wanting to provoke her. "The whole diner can feel your off day, Goldie."
Something shifts in her face. She snaps, her voice sweet and sharp at the edges. "Well then. Let me just smile and make everyone happy, shall I?" She yanks her wrist from my grip. "I'll get your order in."
I lean back, arms crossing over my kutte. I have to press the bruise, see if she’ll snap. I want a reaction. “Good. That’s what we pay you for, right?”
Come on, baby. Give me the fire. Burn me.
“You’re right.” She nods, her expression smoothing back into that terrifyingly calm surface. “It is. The club doesn't need somepatheticgirl hanging on to them without pulling her weight.” She pauses, her voice stressing the word until it feels like a needle under my skin. “Better get back to work.” She winks, a gesture that’s more of a warning than a flirt. “Be good.”
The second the word pathetic left her mouth, my internal alarms went off. It was the exact word I’d used to dismiss theplushie at the club. The way she emphasized it… it wasn’t an accident. That was a targeted strike.
The connection is screaming at me now. My shadow. My stalker. My Goldie.
My gaze clings to her as she threads through the tables, tracking the sway of her hips with a focus that borders on obsession. I log every movement, every subtle shift, until someone steps in and blurs the view.
Someone steps into my line of sight, blocking her out.
I scowl, head jerking up. A groan nearly escapes. I am so damn tired of the endless parade of women in this town who treatone and donelike it’s just the start of a bargain. I made it clear the moment I left their beds. Once is enough.
