Page 81 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

“Because I can’t. And besides, it doesn’t matter now. He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.”

But it mattered to me. I wanted to know who it was that had such a hold over him.

“How do you know he’s gone? What’s happened?”

Alex sighed and sat back in his chair.

“Because I sent him away. And I know for certain he’s far, far away from here, locked up somewhere, so he can’t hurt you or anyone else. Please just...”

“Trust you?” I added. “I will when I have solid proof it’s all over.”

“For now, all I can give you is my word.”

I took another bite of my sawdust pastry. “I guess that’ll have to be enough...for now.” I couldn’t stop the weight of disappointment from dragging me down, though, the heaviness of it all made me feel exhausted, deflated even.

Alex regarded me, his eyes penetrating as he seemed to be internally debating something, frowning and quirking his lip. Then he announced, “Let me take you out tonight. To dinner. Everything has been so tough lately; you deserve a bit of fun.”

“I’m not sure. I have a lot to sort out. I need to find a place to stay.” I was making excuses, I knew that.

“You can stay here. I already told you that.”

“But I don’t want to encroach on your hospitality for longer than I should.”

“Okay. So you want to look for a new place to live. I can’t stop you doing that, but that won’t take a whole day and night, will it. You have to eat dinner at some point.”

“I can get a sandwich here.”

“But that’s boring.” He shook his head but gave me a cheeky smile with a glint in his eyes.

“Maybe I don’t want to leave the house,” I stated plainly.

His cheeky glint evaporated and he pinned me with a serious stare.

“And now I’m putting my foot down. I already told you you’re safe. You don’t need to stay locked up inside. You have to go on living your life. You can’t let what has happened in the past hold you back. Please, Emma.”

I hesitated and he took that as his cue to push a little harder.

“You need to move forward. And don’t worry, I won’t take you to some lame restaurant that serves tiny portions that’re ridiculously overpriced. We’ll go somewhere more relaxed. It’ll be fun. Come on.” He leaned forward. “Live a little.”

“Fine.” I smiled, feeling like I’d just given in way too easily. “I suppose I can go to dinner with you.”

He grinned back at me.

“I think I might surprise you.” He winked, and then he stood up, and as he walked past me, he brushed his finger across the top of my arm, and I swear I heard him sigh.

That tiny touch sent my pulse racing, and I turned to watch him leave the room, his strong muscular thighs straining against the material of his suit trousers, and his perfect ass that I felt embarrassed for staring at, teasing me with how fucking juicy and round it looked.

Then I noticed a selection of newspapers on the table beside me. I picked one up and saw the front-page story was the murder of Sirius Bell and an appeal for any witnesses to come forward.

‘The Heartless Murder of a Proud Man’ it said in the headlines.

They had no fucking idea who they were dealing with.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

EMMA