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The hitman stares at me. He opens his mouth, then shakes his head like he changed his mind about what he’s about to say. “I’m not. I’m worried about me.”

“You shouldn’t be. You’re in great hands here with me.”

He grunts. “Well, thanks for stitching me up.”

“Of course.”

I snap another photo.

His brows draw together. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Giving myself something to masturbate to.”

His mouth drops open. “Masturbate?”

I wiggle my brows suggestively. “If you want to help out…” I stand up and grab the spandex material of my catsuit.

He holds up a hand. “Stop.”

I freeze. “Why?”

He doesn’t say anything.

Horror contorts my face as a thought hits. “Oh, no. You’re gay.”

I sigh, then immediately realize how selfish I’m being. “I mean, good for you. And the guy or guys you’re with. But bad for me. You’re really hot⁠—"

“I’m not gay.”

“Oh,” I brighten instantly. “Should I undress?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just… get me something to drink.”

“Oh yes. Right. You’re probably a bit woozy.” Before I walk away, I point at him. “Don’t move.”

“Wish I could,” he murmurs. “Damn lightheaded bullshit.”

My smile stretches so wide my cheeks hurt as I practically float to the refrigerator.

He's probably just distracted because someone stabbed him.

Once the blood is back in his head, he'll probably notice I'm flirting.

4

ROMAN

My head is pounding from that fucking cheap whiskey… and blood loss.

And also the chaotic blonde who somehow... kidnapped me.

I take a deep breath, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling as I slowly piece the night together.

I got stabbed.

A blonde catsuit-wearing lunatic found me. Somehow got my unconscious body here. Then she stitched me up... after watching YouTube.

What the fuck?