Page 65

My hand froze.

A shape separated from the brick wall across the alley, tall and black and still enough to make every nerve in my body fire at once.

My mouth went dry.

I should have closed the curtains. But I did every dumb thing heroines did right before readers started yelling at them. I just stood there.

Then, I lifted my arm and wiggled two fingers in a tiny wave.

The shadow remained motionless, but my pulse was fucking sprinting out the door as he melted away into the shadows.

Chapter 11

Liv

The next morning I awoke on the sofa with a cramped leg, a sore throat, and my book plastered to my face. I peeled the page off my cheek with a groan.

A corner of the paperback stuck to my skin.

“Classy,” I rasped, rubbing one eye with the heel of my hand.

For three peaceful seconds, I forgot.

Then I sat up.

Three roses.

I stopped breathing.

The worst part was, I didn’t know when he’d left it. I hadn’t checked the counter after my bath. After the window. After I stood there waving at the dark like an idiot with a death wish and a paperback problem.

Which meant the rose might have been there the whole time.

Which meant he had already been inside.

Something white sat folded beneath the vase.

Paper.

Not a receipt. Not one of my crumpled grocery lists. Real paper, thick and cream colored, folded once with a crease so sharp it probably had a trust fund.

My pulse kicked.

“Nope,” I whispered.

I stood anyway, because, apparently, curiosity had eaten the survival part of my brain while I slept.

The apartment stayed quiet as I crossed the room, every floorboard complaint making my shoulders creep higher. I reached the counter and stared at the paper.

I unfolded it.

Little Flower,

I made a choking sound. He had underlined it. The bastard had underlined it.

Your pet name ban has been reviewed and denied.

I stared at the sentence until my vision blurred.