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“I thought it was a hairdryer.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. But they’ll think it’s a vibrator,” she muttered.
“Why?” he asked. “Because it is one?” He picked a towel up off the floor and pulled the vibrator off the mirror where it had been taped on. “And no, it’s not because of prints. I won’t be calling the police. It’s because we don’t know what this person did with this.”
“Huh? Oh ew. I think I’m going to be sick.” She placed her hand over her stomach. “Do you really think that he . . . that he . . . did something with my vibrator?”
“Hairdryer,” he said.
“Oh, stuff it. We both know it’s a vibrator. It was a really good one too. Gonna be a while before I can afford another one.” She pouted.
He shot her a strange look as he wrapped the object up and placed it in the bathroom counter.
He studied the message on the mirror. “’Fuck off, bitch’.”
She shuddered. The message had been written in her lipstick. At least . . . wait, no!
“That’s not my lipstick,” she retorted.
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think that’s my lipstick. I only have one red lipstick and it’s still in my handbag at Michelle’s.”
“Which means it’s likely a woman.”
“Yeah, or it’s that jerk next door. He might own some lipstick.”
“What jerk next door?”
She sighed and rubbed her forehead as a headache started to form. “Oh, just my next-door neighbor. He’s an asshole. He had the gall to complain about how loud I was being the other night and yet every night, I have to listen to him jack off to porn.”
“What?”
She glanced over at him, taking in the tenseness in his jaw, the way he stared down at her with anger pulsating out of him.
“Um, yeah. But he’s really harmless.”
“Harmless?” he asked in a tight voice. “I wouldn’t call that harmless.”
Crap. She’d just given him another target to fire at. This wasn’t good. She had to start keeping quiet about all the enemies she’d made.
Most of them, to be fair, were nemeses rather than enemies. There was a scale. Nemesis. Arch-Nemesis. Enemy. Supreme Enemy.
And yes, she knew that nemesis and enemy meant the same thing. But it was her scale and she was sticking to it.
The supreme enemy had always been the Deity.
No one had taken his place yet.
The person that had done this was close, though.
“He is. I don’t think he’d do this. He barely leaves his apartment. I just . . . I, um, what do I do?” Her lower lip trembled without her permission.
Shoot.
Stop it, Cat.
Be stronger than this.
Honestly, hit after hit was getting to her. She sucked in a slow, deep breath.
Then Alejandro moved in behind her. They stared at the mirror. Her gaze avoided the message written there and instead she looked at him.
Wickedly handsome.
Ruthlessly intelligent.
Powerful and cutthroat.
She was standing right next to the most dangerous man in the city. The state. Maybe the whole country.
And yet, when she looked at him, she saw safety. Protection. She wanted to curl up in his lap and let him take all of this off her shoulders.
“You’ll let me take over.”
She closed her eyes, shaking her head. That wasn’t possible.
“Yes. Look at me.”
Crap. She couldn’t ignore him when he used that tone. She didn’t know why.
“It’s all right to let someone else take control, make the decisions, do what is needed.”
And what was that? Because she didn’t even know anymore.
“I can’t. I have to look after myself.” Although right now, she couldn’t exactly remember why.
“You’re exhausted, Pequeña. You need help.”
“I know I look like shit.” And she did.
“I never said that.” His gaze narrowed, though, his hand moving around to cover the base of her neck. Her breath hitched. But not in fear. Why did she like his brand of dominance when she’d rebelled against every hint of authority in her life?
“Definitely a magician,” she muttered.
“I take it that means your body knows what you need, even if your brain is trying to fight it. Fighting is futile. I always get what I want.”
So arrogant.
But she didn’t have the energy to keep fighting against him. And what was the point when he was right? She needed a break.
Just for a short time.
“Let me take control, Cat.”
Shit.
“Just for now,” she added.
“Of course. I’m not a man who can promise anything more than today.”
Shoot. That hurt more than she thought it would. She was the one who’d added the stipulation.
“What do I do?”
She expected him to gloat. But while satisfaction filled his face, he didn’t boast or rub her nose in her capitulation.
“I’m going to get cleaners in to take care of this mess.”
“I can’t afford that.”
His hand tightened slightly. “Who is in charge?”
“You are.”
His smile was indulgent and confident all at once. Damn. She really had to be on her toes around him. It would be so easy to simply let him take charge all the time. To lose herself in him.
