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But as I step onto the curb, my heart sinks. Ciarán is right behind me, having crossed the street just as easily. He grins at me, a predator closing in on its prey, and I know I won’t be able to escape him so easily.
“Summer, Summer,” he murmurs, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You really should be more careful. You could have been hurt, and then I would be forced to avenge you.”
“Stop following me,” I hiss, fear and anger battling for dominance. But even as I say it, I know it’s a futile request. He’s determined to pursue me, and I’m rapidly running out of ways to evade him.
“Can’t do that, love,” he replies, his tone light and teasing but with an unmistakable edge. “Not until you admit you want me as much as I want you.”
“Never,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath as I turn away from him and begin walking faster. My thoughts race, desperately trying to come up with a plan to escape his relentless pursuit. But one thing is clear: Ciarán Gannon is not a man who will be easily deterred, and I am caught in the deadly game he’s playing.
As I turn the corner, heading away from the bus stop, I feel Ciarán’s eyes burning into my back. The busy street provides no comfort, its bustling chaos serving only to heighten my sense of vulnerability.
“Summer,” Ciarán calls out, his voice a dangerous purr that sends shivers down my spine. “Why are you in such a rush? We barely got to know each other last night, and I find myself intrigued.”
Trying to ignore him, I keep walking, but my heart is pounding, and my hands tremble at my sides. I don’t know what he wants from me, but his intensity is suffocating.
“Come on, love,” he says, his tone deceptively gentle. “At least give me a chance to make it up to you. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Glancing over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Ciarán’s smoldering gaze, I feel a twisted knot of desire mixed with fear. I know this man is unsafe, but there’s something about him that draws me in like a moth to a flame.
“Leave me alone,” I finally manage to choke out, clenching my fists in an attempt to steady my shaking hands.
“Ah, Summer,” he sighs, feigning disappointment. “You wound me. Here I am, offering you the world, and you’re turning me away? I thought we had something special.”
The mockery in his voice stings, but my resolve hardens. I wrap my arms around myself as though the gesture could somehow shield me from his insidious charm.
“Whatever we had, it was just one night,” I tell him, my voice wavering despite my best efforts. “And it won’t happen again.”
“Is that so?” Ciarán asks, his voice low and full of menace. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”
His words send a chill down my spine, but I refuse to let him see how much he scares me. Instead, I quicken my pace, hoping to put some distance between us. Almost running as I see a taxi idling at the curb, I shout, “Are you free?”
He nods and gestures for me to get in.
Yanking the door open, I practically leap inside and slam the door, holding my bag up to my chest as I steady my breathing. Giving the taxi driver my address and wincing as I see the meter already clocking up more money than I can reasonably afford, I keep my eyes down and hope against hope that this is the last time I ever see Ciarán. He is not the man for me. That much is perfectly clear.
7
CIARÁN
My heart pounds furiously, frustration gnawing at me like a rabid beast. The air feels heavy with my disappointment, the taste of failure bitter on my tongue. I can’t stand the thought of her slipping through my fingers, but it was clear I had to let her go.
Then.
I had to let her gothen.
However, I know where she lives and where she works, having followed her this morning, and now I know her name.
“Summer.” It’s like a caress on my tongue.
The fire in my veins won’t be extinguished until I have her by my side. If anything, I want her even more now. If she had fallen into my arms, there is no challenge there. The chase is over. Now, she is running, and I’m going to pursue her until she has no other choice but to give up and be with me.
With renewed purpose, I stride back the way I came toward my car, ready to embark on my relentless pursuit of the woman who has captured my darkened heart.
My Dodge Hellcat waits for me, a sleek black predator that prowls the narrow English streets. Its powerful engine growls like a beast ready to be unleashed, a symbol of my status but not a poncy sportscar. I slide into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly, and turn over the engine.
As I pull away from the curb, the tires screech against the tarmac, echoing my impatience.
As I drive, the city blurs around me, buildings melding together in an indistinguishable haze. The only thing that remains clear is her face – those soulful eyes that bore into mine, the way her lips tremble when she speaks, how her hair catches the light just so.
