Page 60 of Targeted By Desire

I almost rolled my eyes. Rather than responding, I turned around and leaned my head back against the headrest. My gaze fell down the flowers in my lap. Questions that’d quieted in my sleep arose again, louder this time.

I didn’t understand why he’d saved me. I thought those men were doing him a favor. Unless he was so egotistical that my blood needed to spill over his hands alone.

For some reason, I didn’t think that was the case. This is the upteenth opportunity he had to kill me while I was vulnerable and defenseless, yet he still hadn’t taken it.

I traced the edges of the soft petals as I made a mental list of the reasons he might have to keep me breathing.

Number one: entertainment. If anything, he was amused by our little spats. He probably wasn’t done toying with me yet.

Number two: anonymity. Besides Gabriel, I still haven’t told anyone at the agency about my hunt for him. Elijah may not have cared when I first approached him, but if I had a strategy to lure and trap him, his tune would definitely change.

Number three: feelings. It was hard to imagine but maybe he was starting to care about me. I doubted cold-blooded killers like him could experience such emotion, but for the sake of hypotheticals, it was worth considering.

The tiny flutters in my stomach as I stared down at the beautiful bouquet had me questioning why I wanted it to be higher on the list.

“Who gave you those flowers?” My mother asked. “They’re very lovely.”

“Her secret admirer,” Isabelle beat me before I could lie. She gasped. “Wait, was he the one who called me?”

“Secret admirer?” My mother didn’t bother hiding the shock in her voice.

“I’m not gonna lie, his voice alone is fine,” Isabelle mused. “And we already know he’s tall and dark; let’s just throw in handsome while we’re at it.”

“I don’t know what he looks like, really,” I admitted. “Hence the phrase secret admirer.”

“Well, what do you know about him?” My mother asked.

“Not much,” I half-lied. “All I’ve gathered is that he's a Black man with a very attractive voice.”

“You’ve never met in person?” Her voice started turning towards disgust.

“Yes, but it’s always dark. He, um…he tends to hide in the shadows. I don’t think he’s ready for me to know what he looks like yet.”

“Oh, Simone, don’t tell me you met him in some type of sex club.”

“What? Mom, no!”

“Then how did you two meet?”

“On an assignment for work.” Another half-lie.

“And how long, exactly, has this been going on?”

“About two months.”

“And you like him?” Isabelle chimed, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “I’m not really supposed to.”

“Well, it looks like he really likes you,” Isabelle said, glancing at the flowers in my lap. “If I were you, I’d consider giving him a chance. After what he did last night, he deserves one.”

“You should invite him to Isaac’s company’s charity gala,” my mother suggested.

“And the theme is A Winter Masquerade,” Isabelle squealed. “The masks will be perfect for your secret admirer. Maybe by the end of the night, his identity won’t be so secret.”

I nodded, fiddling with the petals. If the two of them knew who my savior really was, we’d be having a completely different conversation right now. That man needed to be in handcuffs, not on my arm at some fancy ball. One saved life didn’t erase all the ones he’s likely taken. At the least he probably deserved a thank you.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and clicked on our last text thread. I typed out the two words, simple but heavy.