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Assuming my hate would always keep a barrier up, I hate myself for losing control.
Beside me, Sebastian suddenly clears his throat.
“Riddle me this…” he starts, twisting in his seat to face me better. “Whatwereyour intentions tonight? You didn’t tell me a plan. You didn’t tell me who we were meeting and then we walk into a crusty old bookstore and she’s just there… and you knew she was there.”
I blink owlishly at him.
What does he want me to say?
He knows my truths without me verbalising a single one.
“So, what were you intending to do exactly, Beck? Kill her with paper cuts? Rearrange that face with a hardback copy ofWar and Peace? And let’s face it, with a face like that, you’d be doing an open casket a disservice.”
I laugh, but part of it is out of agreement.
Natalia Abernathy is still, by far, the most beautiful woman London will ever see.
I don’t have to let my discontent of her blind me to that fact.
“She found me, and as soon as she left that bar with her fiancé, I got a trace on her.”
I grin as I can finally tell him what I’ve been up to. Sure, I blindsided Sebastian and that isn’t something I like to do, but sometimes, it’s necessary.
“Wait, slow down a damn minute…fiancé?”
“Yeah. The bastard you were with in the car park. He’s her fiancé.”
“Wow, what an upgrade,” he mutters, looking away.
He earns a punch to the bicep for that.
“Ow! Beckett!”
“Stop being a little bitch,” I scold him, starting to pace. “She didn’t really think she could play a game like that and I would think she was just some stranger, did she? It’s been seven years, not an eternity.”
“Might as well have been…”
“Seb,” I warn.
“What? Seven years is like forty-plus years in cat years. She might as well have been gone an eternity.”
I cock a brow, wondering if he really just said that to me.
“Do you hear the shit that comes out of your mouth sometimes, or are you just completely immune to it now?”
“Oh, no. I hear it… and I happen to agree with it.” He smiles brightly, and I would do anything to punch that glee off his face. “And what you need to do now is change up your tactic.”
“Not yet.”
“Not yet?” he parrots, creasing his brow. “Why the hell not yet?”
“Because she’ll be expecting me to draw this out, to play the game, but the way we used to play was for kids.”
“And we’re not kids anymore.”
“Exactly. I’m the boss. She’ll be expecting me to hunt her like prey, scare her half to death before I go in for the kill.”
“So, you’re not gonna do that?” he asks, almost sounding disappointed.
