HE HATES ME

HATE & LOVE DUET BOOK ONE

RINA KENT

ISABELLA STARLING

He Hates Me Copyright © 2020 by Rina Kent & Isabella Starling

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

CONTENTS

Author Note

Blurb

Playlists

1.  Jasper

2.  Georgina

3.  Jasper

4.  Georgina

5.  Jasper

6.  Georgina

7.  Jasper

8.  Georgina

9.  Jasper

10.  Georgina

11.  Jasper

12.  Georgina

13.  Jasper

14.  Georgina

15.  Jasper

16.  Georgina

17.  Jasper

18.  Georgina

19.  Jasper

20.  Georgina

21.  Jasper

22.  Georgina

23.  Jasper

24.  Georgina

25.  Jasper

26.  Georgina

27.  Jasper

28.  Georgina

29.  Jasper

30.  Jasper

31.  Georgina

What’s Next?

About Rina Kent

Also By Rina Kent

About Isabella Starling

Also By Isabella Starling

AUTHOR NOTE

Hello reader friend,

This book is a dark stalker romance with extreme dubious situations.

He Hates Me is the first book of a duet and is NOT standalone.

Hate & Love Duet:

#1 He Hates Me

#2 He Hates Me Not

BLURB

Once upon a time, there was a monster.

When the night falls, he comes out to harvest souls.

He’s silent and invisible —no one notices when he strikes then retreats to the shadows.

Our paths shouldn’t have crossed, but they do.

One day he sees me.

Then he can’t unsee me.

Once upon a time, there was a monster, a killer, a devil.

My stalker.

PLAYLISTS

JASPER’S PLAYLIST – RINA KENT

Mr. Sandman – SYML

Can’t Help Falling In Love – Tommee Profitt & Brooke

Violence and Spiders – SAINT PHNX

Animals – Maroon 5

Shiver – Coldplay

An Unhealthy Obsession – The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra

Animal – Chase Holdelder

You Are So Beautiful – Tommee Profitt & Brooke

Another Way Out – Hollywood Undead

Without You – Lana Del Rey

Paranoid – I Prevail

Control – Halsey

Sucker For Pain – Lil Wayne & Wiz Khalifa

Savage – Bahari

Nothing Is As It Seems – Hidden Citizens & Ruelle

No Light, No Light – Florence & The Machine

Bones – Equinox

Silver Lining – Hurts

Forever – ALEKSEEV

Beautiful Killer – Madonna

Criminal – Grief Hit

The Haunting – Set It Off

Seven Devils – Florence & The Machine

Dark In My Imagination – of Verona

Until Eternity – Blackbriar

Beast – Mia Martina

Cradles – Sub Urban

Animal Impulses – IAMX

You Don’t Know Me – Son Lux

I Can’t Decide – Scissor Sisters

You can find the playlist on Spotify.

GEORGINA’S PLAYLIST – ISABELLA STARLING

Someone I Wanted To Be – Francis Novotny

Oh My God – Alec Benjamin

Always – Gavin James

Here Comes A Feeling – Louis The Child, Naomi Wild & Couros

Fresh Air – Goosetaf & Timothy Infinite

Valkyrie – Tritonal

Reminds Me – Kim Petras

Whoa – Snoh Aalegra & Pharrell Williams

Cold – Boy in Space

Hurts – Steve James, TELYKast & Jordan Shaw

Have You Ever Been in Love – XYLO

The World – TeZATalks

Forget – Shallou

Mona Lisa – Terror Jr & Total Ape

Honeymoon Fades – Sabrina Carpenter

Copy Cat – Melanie Martinz & Tierra Chack

Nice Things – Far East Movement, Henry & AlunaGeorge

If We Never Met – John K & Sigala

No Time To Die – Billie Eilish

At Night – 3LAU, Shaun Frank & Grabbitz

Runnin’ – MOONZz

How to Sleep – EDEN

I Want It All – Casoer Cole, Elderbrook & Route 94

You can find the complete playlist on Spotify.

1

JASPER

I have one rule: no rules.

Rules are for losers who think the world needs order, then hire men like me to disrupt that order.

The hypocrisy of mankind is both interesting and repulsive.

“Last chance, Serrano.” I stand over the heap of flesh and bones. The blood runs in rivulets across the asphalt, leaving a deep trail in its wake.

Metal smell soaks the air and I would usually let it fill my lungs. People are addicted to inhaling drugs, I’m more engrossed in the smell of life leaving someone’s body and the blood abandoning their veins.

Twirling the knife in my hand, I gulp in air, filling my lungs with...piss.

The motherfucker pissed himself, ruining my bloodfest ceremony. He just had to be a fun-ruiner until the very end.

Time to wrap this clusterfuck up.

Lowering myself to my haunches, I point the tip of my bloodied knife at his half-carved cheek. There’s something about ruining people’s faces, disfiguring them, making them as imperfect as their sombre little souls.

Like Serrano here. He acts like a good little accountant but is in fact the greatest scum of them all.

He tried to fight, I give him that, but it’s futile, isn’t it?

Judging by his two broken legs and the blood dripping from his arms, chest, and face, he didn’t have a chance. I would’ve told him that, but I might have wanted the fight.

“Ser,” I tsk, drawing my knife down his cheek. “Didn’t they teach you in Harvard that a dog can’t steal from his master?”

“P-please, Jasper…” he gurgles. Chocking on one’s own fluid is a curious sound, almost as satisfying as the screams. Almost.

“They should’ve also taught you not to beg your grim reaper.” I cock my head down. “Spoiler alert, it never works.”

“L-let me talk to Costa, I-I—”

“Ser, Ser, you’re kind of an idiot, aren’t you? Not only do you steal from Costa, but you also think he has the time to talk to a thief?”

The pleading, pathetic look leaves his middle-aged face and deep darkness shines beneath.

The moment they realize they’re done for and should show their true colors is one of my favorite moments. It’s when they’re at their truest form. The decimation of the human mind, screwing it up, fucking it over, is what I live for.

From his position on the ground, on his stomach, both his hands bound behind his back, Serrano lifts his bloodied face to snarl at me. “Is that why he sent his animal?”

I grin, the first actual emotion I showed him since we started our torture fest. Serrano thinks it’s an insult, but Serrano has always been a fucking idiot, good with numbers, useless with people.

“Exactly.” I lift the knife, letting the blood droplets fall on his non-swollen eye. “An animal is only worth an animal, don’t you think?”

He blinks against the drip but doesn’t change his stance. “A-always the dog, never the master, Jasper.”

“Riddle me this, Ser, isn’t the dog the one who gets the most fun from the hunt?”

“That’s w-what all dogs think.”

This is getting boring, with the smell of piss, it’s becoming irritating, too. I stab my knife into his shoulder, and Serrano wails like a schoolgirl. “This is your last chance to tell me where the money is before I pay a visit to your wife and daughter. I’m curious to see how long I have to carve them up, dog style.”

The bravery from earlier disappears, leaving a complete trembling mess behind, blood dripping, eyes swollen, legs broken.

A useless dog.

I knew threatening his family would get me the response I needed, and that’s why I kept it for last. It’s the fun-ruiner, the fight-breaker.

Humans with weaknesses are the easiest to smash. They’re ruthless animals on the field, but they leave liabilities behind for people like me to feast on.

Serrano tells me everything I need through clenched, crimson-painted teeth. The location of the money, the people who helped him. Everything.

He doesn’t even beg anymore. We’ve been acquaintances for more than ten years. He should know begging never works with me, not when my knife is out, ready to carve up some faces.

After he’s done, I straighten up and snatch back my blade, causing a burst of blood to rip from his shoulder. He still has blood to spare. Interesting.

“A-Are you going to hurt them?” He stares up at me.

That weakness again. He’s forgotten all about himself and is begging for mercy for his little cubs.

“Depends on how much of that money they spent.” I tilt my head to the side. “But you won’t be here to find out.”

“They didn’t, they…” he trails off, having noticed how my expression has turned to utter boredom. “If you spare them, I’ll tell you something no one told you before.”

I lean over to him, pretending to have an interest in what he has to say.

His eyes light up, ears heating with the force of his excitement. There’s an interesting power in hope, it makes people forget their screwed-up situations and bathe in that moment of thrill. Maybe that’s why most of them are useless.

Playable. Disposable. Fucking morons.

“You were never a dog, Jasper. Costa has always —”

I jam my knife in his jugular, cutting him off mid-sentence, then twist it until the sound of tendons being cut fills the air, which still smells of his piss, might I add.

His eyes roll back until the whites are the only things visible. Then, my favorite part happens. They turn vacant.

There. Much better. Silent. Calm.

That’s the problem with Serrano. He talks too much, even when he’s dying. Besides, I never said I was interested in whatever propaganda he was about to spout.

I twist my neck to the side as I stand up. A cut throbs in my side —the only injury Serrano had been able to deliver.

Another cut to add to my little jar of a thousand of them.

I retrieve my phone and dial the only contact on my phone.

“Lucio Costa.”

It’s curious why he would say that, knowing it’s me. But Lucio is the type who likes throwing his name around every chance he gets, so there’s that.

“Nathan Serrano is done.” I stare down at his corpse and then at the knife dripping blood on my Italian shoes.

Shame. I actually liked these shoes.

Maybe I got carried away. Traitors get that response from me.

The storage room’s door barges open, letting the outside world’s air trample over my masterpiece of the night. It chases away the smell of piss though, so there’s that.

I don’t reach for my gun or move from my place near Serrano’s corpse. Only a few people know about this location and they’re all Costas. No one dares to barge into the wealthiest, most notorious crime family in the city. Even the police are our allies. If they saw me, they’d turn the other way, or better yet, they’d clean the storage for me.

A man in his early fifties strolls inside with a phone to his ear and a smug grin plastered on his face. He’s wearing a dark brown Italian-cut suit and Prada shoes he takes so much pride in.

His taste hasn’t changed for the past twenty-one years I’ve known him. Except for the white hairs that appear on his nape which he usually has his coiffeur dye them back to brown.

Lucio Costa.

The heartless devil of Chicago who occupies the throne of the king.

“I can see that.” He stops in front of me, staring down at Serrano’s lifeless body with disinterest. “Where the fuck is my money?”

“Trust funds and deposit boxes. I have the numbers.”

“Good.” He snaps his fingers and his two closest men barge in like hyenas for the lion’s prey.

Stephan and Marco are both buff and merciless, bigger than me, harder than me, with mean faces and the cliché mafia image, but they know better than to fuck with me.

“Marco.” Lucio snaps his fingers between us, a hint of his Italian accent showing through. “Go get my fucking money back. Every last dime.”

As he barks his orders, I lean down and wipe my hands on the small piece of Serrano’s clothes that isn’t tainted in blood. I try to, anyway. There’s no such place.

I rise to my feet and fetch my jacket from the chair and throw it over my shoulder. Blood has made its way to my white shirt. Another wardrobe gone wrong, but it’s proof of a job perfectly done.

“Stephan.” I smile at him. “Take care of the cleaning.”

His mean eyes glare at me, but he’s a good dog, so he doesn’t speak in front of his master without permission.

Still, his face begs for some carving, so I continue, “You have a problem with that, Steph?”

“For someone who kills like a monster, you’re shit at cleaning,” Marco says on his behalf.

“I don’t just kill, killing is normal. Even you kill. I get the information we need all the time. Cleaning is for maids like you two. Keep up, Marc.”

Both their bodies jerk forward, for a fight no doubt, but Lucio stops them with a hand. They wouldn’t have touched me anyway, they’re too coward for that, and I’m too valuable for Lucio.

“Jasper.” Lucio steps between us with a bored expression written all over his face. “Go see the wife and daughter. I need to know if he hid anything else with them.”

He wouldn’t have. Truth is, Serrano wasn’t that much of an idiot. He distributed the funds strategically all over the country and outside of it. He knew he’d get caught, and since his family is his weakness, he wouldn’t have gotten them involved.

I nod at Lucio’s order anyway.

It’s the only way he’ll get off their case. While I’m fine carving up little fuckers’ faces, it’s a hassle to deal with women. If I don’t, Marco and Stephan will do it and they have...peculiar tastes.

At their boss’s order, the two henchmen go about dragging Serrano’s body across the bloodied floor.

I watch the trail for a while until they disappear out of the storage.

“You need to stop antagonizing my men.” Lucio’s hard voice brings me back from my quiet observations. “No one likes you in the organization.”

“If I wanted to be liked, I would’ve run for the popularity vote.” I sheathe my knife with its half-dried blood at the back of my pants. “Being liked doesn’t get the job done, fear does.”

He narrows his eyes. “Fear does, yes?”

“Yes, and loyalty. Mine is only with you, not with your organization.”

It’s not a secret. Lucio saved my life when I was twelve and I’ve owed him since then. That’s why I became his willing dog and have been that for over twenty years now.

His most rabid dog.

“I know that, and that’s why I have this job for you.” He gets closer until the space between us is nearly gone. “I will become heir.”

The famous Costa internal war.

Papa Costa, Emilio, has recently died without naming an heir. Now it’s an endless struggle between Lucio and his eldest brother Paolo about who’ll take the reins of the city.

There’s only room for one king in this war. When kings clash, the loser is sure to die.

Lucio Costa doesn’t like losing or dying.

“You will have it.” I suppress a yawn. “Paolo is sick and unfit to rule.”

We knew this since Emilio Costa was alive. Paolo has been off for years and barely keeps track of his health. He can’t take over the Costa legacy like Lucio can.

In short, boring. Or interesting, depending on how you look at it. After all, with this, Lucio will have more fun for me.

“There’s another player.” Lucio smacks his lips together in complete disdain.

I raise an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Paolo’s bastard son.”

“Didn’t you kill him twenty years ago?”

“Apparently fucking not. Paolo knows he’s alive and is searching for him. Which means I want him —”

“Dead.” I finish for him.

He snaps his fingers. “He should be twenty-five now. Find him. Kill him.”

“Got it.” I head toward the exit with a smile on my face.

Hunting then killing.

This should be…interesting.

SERRANO’S WIFE is a head nurse in the emergency room at the Chicago State Hospital.

It’s been a long fucking day and I need sleep. I have spent the entire night with her dear husband and daytime is my down time.

Killing machines are more efficient when the darkness falls, and few humans roam the earth.

You know, so no one witnesses what they do.

My jacket is half-closed against the bloodied shirt. I didn’t bother to wash my hands, but I shove them into my pockets. Day time is also full of pesky witnesses. They’re like mosquitos, drawn towards blood.

Having learnt Mrs. Sorrano’s routine from the week I’ve watched her husband and his family, I wait for her near the parking lot. Clouds fill the sky with condensation, casting a blue, gray shift over the air. As if six in the morning couldn’t be more tragic, the city’s cold yet humid atmosphere adds more to the tragedy.

Though tragedy can be interesting.

Leaning against the wall, I retrieve my stash of whiskey and take a swig, letting the burn go down before I look down to stare at my watch. Rebecca Serrano takes her pause here in about… three, two, one.

There she is. Like clockwork.

She comes out from the side door with her phone to her ear, wrapping the thin jacket around her scrubs.

At first, she doesn’t notice me, even though she’s a few feet away. I have that effect, the blending with shadows. You never see me until I hit you in the face —and possibly carve it the fuck up.

“Pick up, Nathan.” She stomps her feet, her generous tits jiggling with the motion. “Pick up—”

“He won’t.”

She gasps, the phone slipping from her fingers and hitting the ground. The crack echoes in the otherwise silent early morning.

She runs her fingers against her cap in a nervous, unsteady gesture. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know someone was here.”

Rebecca doesn’t meet my gaze, staring at her cracked phone, her short nails, but never at me.

Interesting. Does she already know who I am? Serrano was smart enough not to get his family involved, but maybe he uttered the name one day; the name everyone in this city needs to stay the fuck away from —or rather, from Lucio.

“Jasper Cain.” I extend my hand, still coated with her husband’s dry blood. “The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Serrano.”

Her lips tremble, and her face pales beneath the mocha skin. I don’t have to say a word, this is evidence about where I’ve been last night.

And Rebecca here has definitely heard the name. Serrano was smart to warn his family about me, but he wasn’t smart enough to go unnoticed. He came close, though. So close.

When Rebecca doesn’t take my hand, I retrieve a pack of cigarettes and light one before blowing a cloud of smoke in the air.

I don’t hide my bloodied hand, even when Rebecca’s eyes fill with tears and she looks like she wants to stab me in the eye. She won’t, though, because like her husband, she has a weakness, too.

“Take your daughter and leave the city.”

Her gaze finally meets mine. “D-don’t.”

“Don’t what, Rebecca? Finish what you started. You dealt with gunshots your entire life here, you can say it.”

She remains quiet, her lips thinning in a line.

I tilt my head to the side. “Kill her? Kill you?”

A full body shudder goes through her. She’s scared. Good. Fear is the only incentive to get her out of here, and not in cement like her husband.

I reach out and take her cold, sweaty hand in mine. She looks on the verge of throwing up as I shake it. “Leave so you never hear the name Jasper Cain again.”

I release her and she jerks away as if she’s been slapped then runs back in the direction of the staff entrance, not bothering to gather up her phone.

A few days is all she gets, and I’ll watch to make sure she’s gone. If she doesn’t leave, Lucio will have Stephan and Marco take care of them, as in rape then kill them, then rape their corpses and shoot them for porn.

The icky factor is real with those two.

I’m about to turn and leave when Rebecca bumps into someone. A nurse. She’s wearing blue scrubs and an open coat that stops at her knees.

She reaches to steady Rebecca and her lips pull in a warm smile. It reaches her eyes and makes her small face radiant and like a fucking cliché of an angel coming down to save lost souls.

Even Rebecca in her flustered state stops to return an awkward smile before she dashes inside.

The moment Rebecca disappears, the other nurse’s smile falls as fast as it appeared, almost as if it were never there, almost like she never smiled. Never cared.

My head tilts to the side. Her dark hair is tied into a conservative bun. The rest of her face is normal, uninteresting, all small with a tiny nose and mouth, rosy cheeks and pale skin that resembles porcelain. There’s one thing that’s interesting though, or rather, two. Her eyes that nearly closed with her smile are now huge, round and with a gray cloud that mimics the metal of my gun.

How would those eyes look if they had the blood in my knife on them?

Exquisite, for sure.

As she heads toward the parking lot, my own feet move of their own volition. I remain in shadows, keeping a parallel line opposite her as she strides. And she does stride, which is odd considering her tiny frame. It’s like she’s running away from something.

Or someone.

She unlocks an old green Honda and throws her bag inside then stops in front of the driver’s door and abruptly turns around, toward me.

Her metal eyes meet mine and she freezes, her hand suspended mid-air. Actually, her lips aren’t tiny, but they aren’t big either. They’re full and well-shaped with a teardrop at the top lip. Her mouth is slightly parted as she stares at me.

A second passes, five, ten…

If she thinks I’m the one who’ll break eye contact, then we’ll be standing here all day.

Her lips thin in a line and then, just like earlier, her neutral expression blossoms like a petal well-nourished and she smiles the same one she just gave to Rebecca. Warm, innocent, angelic.

Fucking fake.

How can she fake a smile to that level so well? If I didn’t read people for a living, I wouldn’t even have noticed it. I almost thought it was real a second ago.

As quickly as she smiles at me, she breaks eye contact and slips into her car.

Is the smile gone now? Is her show over?

Maybe the petal is dead.

One way to find out.

I don’t even think about it as I head out to my Mercedes and hop in it.

Carving up people’s faces isn’t the only thing I do. I also like carving up their fucking lies.

2

GEORGINA

The spider is huge, and it wants to fucking hurt me.

Its body must be the size of my head, with strong, furry legs scrambling as quickly as Mr. Bingley’s. It's making some creepy otherworldly noise and I start to scream at the top of my voice, louder with every decibel that leaves my body.

My eyes fly open, and I stare at the bare ceiling of my bedroom. There's a pair of eyes there. Bright blue-gray eyes, staring back at me with an intensity that's almost painful. I remember those eyes. I saw them, just a few days ago...

A nightmare. It was only a nightmare.

I'm soaked in sweat, covered in it. My duvet feels heavy on top of me and I groan, pulling myself up and making my tabbies, Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hudson, mewl in displeasure. I shush them softly and pad over the floor into my bathroom. It's two hours before my alarm is supposed to go off, but this is nothing new for me. I've had trouble sleeping since I was a kid.

I splash cold water on my face, and notice my fingers are trembling as I pat myself dry. And so, another day of the grind begins.

It's a well-established routine by now. I brush my teeth, take a quick shower, dry my hair, apply minimal amounts of makeup and make myself a quick breakfast. I feed the tabbies, their tails and button-noses rubbing against my feet. The whole time, I fight back the thought of the stranger who'd stared at me the a few days ago at the hospital. It was the kind of chance meeting you struggle to forget, trying to understand whether fate put that person in your way for a reason... or whether you're just being a naive fool by thinking that.

"Come on," I usher the cats away from the door, grabbing my keys. "I'll see you later, guys. Be good!"

I blow them kisses, blushing as I meet the eyes of my next-door neighbor in the hallway. She must think I'm going crazy at only twenty-seven, talking to my cats like that. But they're the only family I have, and if my uptight neighbor wants to judge me for it, so be it.

I give her a perfunctory smile before taking the stairs, so I don't have to talk to her in our shitty elevator. It keeps breaking down, anyway.

I've got the mathematics of walking to work down, pat. I know which route will get me there the fastest. I know the route that's three minutes longer makes me walk past a stray cat I've named Phoebe, a couple blocks away. I take that path now, clutching my messenger bag where an unopened can of tuna is waiting for Phoebe. It's not much, but I reassure myself it's better than nothing. Phoebe's been waiting for me lately, meowing with delight when she sees me coming up to her.

Sure enough, my new friend is waiting, and I scoop out the tuna can on the pavement for her before giving her a few head pats. And then I have to rush off to the hospital for another day of misery.

It's not like I hate my job.

I just hate the people.

Working as a nurse in the ER, you see everything, from domestic disputes to child abuse. It all makes for a mélange of memories I'd rather forget.

Still, it's not as if any of it is as bad as my life was before the hospital.

Growing up in a boarding school, being tossed from foster home to foster home until I finally got to leave at eighteen. I got a scholarship and worked two jobs besides college to get myself through. I couldn't afford a medical degree, so I settled as a nurse. The pay was better than average, the hours were horrendous, and yet it offered the kind of security I'd been craving my entire life.

"Hey, Georgie." Dinah, my friend from the intensive unit wing, bumps her hip into mine and winks at me as I pass her in the hallway. "Dr. Martin's been asking about you again."

"He has?" I groan inwardly. "Wow, um..."

"Lost for words?" Katya laughs as she joins us, and we walk down the hallway together. We make quite the trio – Katya with her distinct Russian accent, a doll-like face and thin, perfectly poised body, and Dinah, who has ebony skin and wears her hair in braids woven together in an impressive bun. "Isn't it such an honor? He's totally into you, Georgie. Everybody knows it."

"I don't know if I'd call it an honor," Dinah cringes. "He's always seemed off to me. The guy's creepy."

"And you're jealous." Katya rolls her eyes.

“I’m happily married with three kids, bitch.” Dinah wiggles her fingers at her.

“And without sleep,” Katya teases and tugs on my arm. "What are you going to say when he finally asks you out?"

"I don't think he will." I dread the thought. I've always been a loner, and I'm not exactly looking to add another person to my tiny family. My cats are all I need.

"You're delusional, girl." Katya comes to a stop in front of the elevator and makes a face. "Well, it's down to the morgue for me. Let's hope the zombie apocalypse doesn't start today, ladies."

"Good luck!" Dinah and I say in unison, crossing our fingers. Our friend gets in the elevator and we take the stairs to floor one, where the good coffee machines are, and where Dinah works.

I'm not due at my station for another hour, but since I couldn't sleep anyway, I decided to surprise my friends with some fresh pastries from the corner bakery on my street. Now, as Dinah tucks into a bear claw, I'm glad I made that decision.

"So... About Dr. Martin," I mutter, looking down the hallway to ensure we're alone. "You really think he's going to ask me out?"

"Pretty sure he might." Her eyes sparkle as they lock with mine. "Would that really be so bad, Georgie? How long has it been since your last date?"

I grumble a reply, unwilling to admit the shameful truth.

It's been over a year since I broke up with my boyfriend Gabe, a guy who was recently promoted from intern to doctor and has since deemed me beneath him. I haven't even attempted to date since then. It's hopeless, and I've accepted a long time ago I'll just end up alone, anyway.

"I'm just not sure I see myself with him," I mutter. "He's what, forty-five?"

"So?" Dinah scrunches her face up at me. "Is that too old? Since when do you care about age? I thought you didn't want a family or to get married... This could be the perfect situation for you."

I groan, rubbing my eyes and watching her sink her teeth into a jam-filled donut. "I just don't want to make another mistake."

"Look, babe." Dinah reaches over and covers my hand with hers. "I know what happened with Gabe was a disaster, but you can't let it hold you back forever. There are plenty other fish in the sea, and you deserve to be happy."

I don't exactly agree with her, not because I don't think I deserve happiness, but because I don't need a man to give me that kind of security. I'm perfectly fine with my cats and my job – my life is full and busy enough. Adding a man to the mix would only bring trouble.

"Maybe we can figure out a way so I can let him down gently," I mutter, and now it's my friend's turn to groan.

"You can't spend your life running away," she reminds me. "Life's giving you another chance at happiness, Georgie. If you ask me, you should take it by the balls."

I laugh out loud and lift my head at the sound of approaching footsteps. My smile instantly fades when I see the person approaching us is none other than Dr. Martin. Speak of the devil...

"Hello, young ladies," he says in his deep, booming voice, and my stomach does a flip. I'm not sure whether it's because I'm icked out by the term he used, or because I'm excited.

Admittedly, Dr. Martin is a very handsome man, and as Dinah and I say good morning to him in unison, I find color flushing my cheeks. Damn my pale skin. I can't hide anything when I blush like an embarrassed five-year-old any time a man so much as looks in my direction.

"What a wonderful day we're having," Dr. Martin goes on pleasantly, and I give him a doubtful look. It's raining outside, and it's foggy as hell. Plus, working in the ER isn't exactly an experience I'd describe as wonderful.

Still, I find myself nodding to his words, sheepishly agreeing with anything he says. After all, his position is above mine in the hospital. I don't want to risk pissing him off. Dr. Martin is a powerful figure around here.

"I was wondering if I could speak to your friend in private, Dinah?"

"Of course," Dinah replies with delight, shooting me a meaningful look that seems to say two things – good luck, and don't fuck this up.

I manage a nervous smile before Dinah slides away from her seat, taking the box of pastries with her and winking at me. Then it's just me and the doctor, and my nerves which are already getting the best of me.

"Is this about a patient in the ER?" I ask dumbly, my heart pounding as Dr. Martin laughs easily. Of course, we both know it's not, but I still don't want to embarrass myself by being presumptuous. "If you need my help before my shift starts, I'd be happy to come down with you now."

"Don't worry, Georgina," he says with an amused glance my way. "This has nothing to do with work. I was just wondering whether you'd allow me to buy you a cup of coffee sometime."

"Oh?" I ask lamely, my heart racing. "You don't have to, Dr. Martin."

"I know I don't have to," he says firmly. "But I'd very much enjoy your company."

An uncomfortable silence descends upon us and I chew my bottom lip nervously as I whisper, "I'm just not so sure it's a great idea, Dr. Martin, I –"

"Andrew," he interrupts with a blinding, pearly white smile. "Please, sweetheart. Call me Andrew."

I don't like the pet name he's used, but I tell myself I'm picking up on the smallest of things again, so I swallow my reply and manage a shaky smile in his direction, repeating the name with an uncomfortable edge to my voice. "Andrew."

"Good girl."

Fuck.

Those two little words floor me, reminding me of all the other times I've heard them. The dirty videos I watch, where men whisper those two little words in whimpering women's ears, reminding them exactly who they belong to.

Instantly, I'm putty in the man’s hands, and I find myself smiling deliriously as he goes on.

"Well, how about dinner tonight? Let me treat you, the way a girl like you deserves."

I'm about to bite back and tell him I'm not a girl anymore, but I save my breath, remembering Dinah and Katya's words. They're right. I've been pushing men away for far too long. Maybe it's time for me to get back in the game.

"Okay," I reply hesitantly, fighting back my instincts that are telling me to run. Dr. Martin shoots me a brilliant smile and I do my best to replicate it, but I'm tense, nervous. "I would love to have dinner with you tonight, Dr. Mart… Andrew."

His eyes warn me not to repeat my mistake from earlier, and he smiles when I use his first name.

"Wonderful." He picks himself up and stares down at me, as if he's trying to devour me with his gaze.

I glance up too, picking up things about him I haven't noticed before. Like how light blond his hair is amid the streaks of gray. How chiseled sharp his jaw is, and how his faint hint of stubble reminds me of one of my foster fathers. It sends an uncomfortable shiver down my spine, and I shake my head to get rid of the thought.

"I'll pick you up at your apartment around seven thirty. Does that work for you?"

"Sounds good," I say, hoping he can't hear the uncomfortable edge to my voice. I rattle off my address and phone number, and he saves them both in his phone before flashing me another grin. "I'll see you tonight."

"Cannot wait." He rubs my shoulder for a second before disappearing down the hallway. I only notice I've been holding my breath when he finally leaves, and I exhale a sigh of relief just as Dinah reappears with the now empty box of donuts.

"So, how did it go?" she gushes, and I make a face at her.

"As well as it could have, I suppose. I'm meeting him for dinner tonight."

"How perfect!" She claps her hands together with excitement and I cringe inwardly. I'm really, really not looking forward to this date. Not only because of Dr. Martin... Andrew's expectations, but my friends', too. "You're going to have a great time. Now, for your clothes…"

As Dinah launches into a long monologue about date outfits, I wonder why I accepted the doctor's offer in the first place. I should've just let him down gently; explain I don't date.

Besides, there is a rumor I've heard floating around the hospital, gossip circulating about one of the other nurses, Janine, who got transferred to another hospital in the area – one that's well-known for being badly run, and not a great place to work.

I've heard it whispered that Dr. Martin was the man behind her transfer, and though I never thought to ask why, I have a feeling I wouldn't like the reason.

My mind instantly goes to Rebecca Serrano, another nurse, a head nurse to be specific, who left a few days ago. The staff has been busy gossiping about her reason for leaving.

Some say her husband is in the mafia, others swear they saw her with a known hitman in the city.

Whatever the reason is, Rebecca has gone. Just another unsolved mystery to add to the mix.

I shift my thoughts back to Dr. Martin. I have my doubts about the guy, but my friend seems so excited, I allow myself a glimmer of hope, too.

Maybe it's finally time for me to stop living my life like a recluse.

Maybe it's time for me to live a little.

Besides, there's no doubt Dr. Martin is the perfect date. Charming, kind and a talented doctor, he's everything a woman would want in a partner.

I just need to ignore the nagging voice of doubt in the back of my head, telling me something's going to go terribly wrong tonight.

3

JASPER

My little Petal leads such a boring life it should’ve turned me off — yesterday or the day before that.

Or the day I first saw her less than a week ago.

It hasn’t.

Here I am opposite her shabby building. The walls are badly chipped, as if they haven’t been painted since the place was built.

The security level is next to shit. Anyone can come in and out of that building without any problem. Even the guard is an alcoholic who pours vodka into his juice at ten in the morning.

I know because I watched. Correction. I’ve been watching for the past few days.

Since she smiled at me in that innocent, yet fake way, I haven’t been able to get my little Petal out of my head.

It’s not from the lack of trying.

I would rather be focusing on my next job, tracking Costa’s heir and finishing his miserable life, but no. Every morning, when my night research is done, I find myself here or at the hospital.

Rebecca Serrano took her daughter and left town as I told her to. After that, I had no reason to go back to the hospital or to stand near the parking lot, hovering over an ugly Honda, waiting for the one who drove it.

I followed Petal to her house that first day. Yesterday, I signed for the apartment right across from her apartment’s balcony. Mine is a newer and bigger building.

Finding a new apartment was one of my priorities anyway. I don’t live in one place for more than a few months. Being a creature of habit will only give my enemies a sure way to find and kill me.

Lucio Costa isn’t feared because of his wealth and his power, he’s feared because he kills efficiently and without hesitation.

Or rather, I do.

The reason Lucio’s enemies never catch up with him is because they can never catch up with me.

And not from the lack of trying. The moment they find me, my storage, my weapons, I’ve already moved along.

I’ve been called detached and cold. I would say I’m efficient. I get the job done better than anyone in my field and then move along.

Now, I live in this two-bedroom apartment that I forced the college student who used to live here to evacuate in twenty-four hours. I offered him the apartment downtown that Lucio had given me a few years ago. I never used it and I have no interest to.

Lucio’s shit was never my shit. I’m just paying him back the debt I owe. He pulled me from the clutches of death a long time ago and it’s with death that I repay him.

My apartment is opposite Petal’s but a little above hers so the view from my balcony is straight into her living room — if you can call it that.

Her blinds are open as she crouches and feeds her cat. Two, actually.

Someone is a cat lady.

A cat lady with a fake smile and little to no friends.

There’s something curious about Petal. The way she moves, how she talks to people, how she slips out at the end of her shift. It’s like she’s invisible, and the only way she makes herself visible is by thinning her lips and smiling in that fake way.

Fake smile.

Fake existence.

“What are you hiding, my little Petal?” I retrieve my binoculars and sit on the chair on my balcony with only the darkness as my companion.

She must be hiding something, or she wouldn’t have been so efficient at faking, at choosing to be invisible.

It’s a little over seven and she just returned from her shift. After she feeds her cats, she’ll prepare herself dinner, watch crime shows on Netflix, then read something or go through her laptop and then sleep.

It’s the first time I’ll get to watch the routine from this perfect position and not through her building’s fire escape, where I barely got any view to her living room.

She says something to her cats as they eat. Hmm. I might have to figure out a way to listen in on her.

Or I might forget the fuck about her and move on with my life. How about that?

I readjust the binoculars as she continues talking to her cats with a small smile on her lips as if they’re humans. She does that, talking to her cats, which means she’s not as lonely as I predicted — it’s way fucking worse.

She has two friends at the hospital, the Russian and the black woman. But even when she’s with them, she’s still a lonely little Petal.

The cats don’t even acknowledge her, one is licking itself and the other is busy eating.

She kisses them both on the head as she shimmies out of her blouse and heads in the direction of the bedroom.

Usually, my observation through the fire escape would finish in the living room, with that little cocktease of her unbuttoning her blouse.

Today, though, I redirect the binoculars toward her bedroom window. She stands in the middle of the room in front of her closet in only black bra and colorful cotton panties.

Her skin appears paler under the white light. The curve of her full tits, creamy and engorged, push against her bra, giving a porn-level view. She has curves that she managed to hide well with those unflattening scrubs. Sometimes, she wears them from home, as if needing the camouflage.

Well, well, my little Petal. What are you hiding from?

She digs into her closet and I expect her to retrieve those pajamas with cats on them. No kidding, she has multiple kitten pajamas.

Instead of her usual home clothes, she retrieves jeans and blouses, then dresses and sweaters.

Petal never goes out, so this is a break from the norm. She’d usually be curled up with a book or cradling her laptop.

She tries several items of clothes against herself as she stands in front of the mirror but soon throws them away. I wonder how that firm ass would look in jeans.

I readjust my cock as she tries one thing after the other against her half-naked body.

One thing’s for certain. I need to either fuck her or kill her soon, so I can get the release.

Or I can do both.

It all depends on what she’s hiding behind those metal eyes and fake smile.

If she’s been wasting my time this entire week, she’s getting a bullet to her head and someone will have to adopt her ungrateful cats.

She settles on a little black dress, twirling while she holds it to her body. Interesting. She can do that just like any other woman, my fake little Petal.

She digs into a drawer and pulls out a set of white lace lingerie.

White lace.

My cock hardens, but it’s out of the hot red anger going through it rather than the view.

Who the fuck is she wearing lingerie for?

She unclasps her black bra and her breasts fall free with a gentle bounce. The soft pink areolas are tipped with semi-erect nipples, begging to be sucked, pinched, bitten.

Petal hides them all too soon with the white bra, then shimmies out of her cotton panties. Her pussy is smooth with a few hairs disappearing between her thighs. My cock pushes against my pants with the need to plunge inside that pussy, claim it and claim her, then get her out of my fucking system.

She pulls the new panties up way too soon, as if she feels me watching her, which isn’t remotely possible. She’d have to look from her window and have killer sight. I’m sitting in the darkness and she’s in the light.

Darkness never bothered me. If anything, it provided the shadows I needed to go unnoticed.

Petal stares at the mirror again, her brows furrowing as she admires her new lingerie.

White.

Why the fuck is it white? Does she think she’s some sort of angel being unboxed?

She throws the dress over her head. It has a low neckline and it’s tight at her stomach and falls to above her knees. Appearing satisfied with her dress for the night, she releases her hair, letting it fall in black waves to her back.

My little Petal never releases her hair, not even in her house when she’s alone. I didn’t even know it was that long.

She sits in front of her mirror and applies lipstick and mascara and ends the ritual by spraying perfume all around her.

What smell is it?

I don’t ever get close enough to smell her, but she always gave the impression of hospital smell; cold and impersonal. Just like all those fucking fake smiles.

She buzzes someone through to her apartment while my blood boils. I don’t see the son of a bitch, but I can already imagine cutting him up.

I have to know who the fuck she’s wearing that lingerie for.

4

GEORGINA

I spend a long day at the hospital and get home with twenty minutes to spare before the big date. Rushing through the door, I pet Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hudson as I put my things down, then get their kibble ready for them. I need a quick shower before Andrew collects me if I have any hope of looking decent.

As I strip my clothes off, I feel as if somebody's watching me. That disconcerting feeling of a pair of eyes following my every move won't stop, even when I've checked every nook and cranny of the apartment. There's no one here, it's just my imagination. I need to stop being paranoid and just focus on my date. It's about time I had some fun.

I take a much too short warm shower and dry myself quickly. I hesitate for a moment before getting dressed, my fingers lingering over the lace in my lingerie drawer before I finally pull out the white set and put it on. I flush as I check out my reflection in the mirror, Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hudson both watching from my bed with their heads cocked.

"Shut up, guys," I mutter. "It's not like I'm hoping something's going to happen."

Mrs. Hudson meows loudly and I sigh, leaning down to cuddle her close. I dry my hair and apply a quick layer of gloss to my lips, and a coat of black mascara to my eyes.

I spend a lifetime picking out outfits in front of my mirror, before finally settling on a little black dress. I even use some perfume, spraying my wrists and my neck.

I’m done in the nick of time, and the doorbell goes off not a minute past seven thirty. I let Andrew in with the buzzer and throw some stuff in my handbag before opening the front door.

"Good evening," he greets me with his signature grin, and I allow him to kiss my cheek before stepping inside my apartment. "So, this is your place."

"Welcome." I smile shyly and give him the grand tour.

There's not much to see – it's really just one big room with a separate bedroom and a small bathroom. It's cheap, and I don't need much more, anyway. It serves me just fine. But Andrew's expression falls slightly when he sees the inside of my home, and I try to imagine how it must look from his perspective.

The paint is chipping in some places, the kitchen is old, and the cats have pretty much destroyed my sofa. There are blankets and fluffy pillows everywhere, which I thought looked cozy, but it must look like a mess from a doctor's point of view. Of course, Dr. Martin must have a nice place, but then again, his paycheck is probably four times the amount of mine.

"Oh." His nose twitches when Mr. Bingley strolls into the living area and jumps on the dining table. "You have a cat."

"Two, actually." I scratch under Mr. Bingley's jaw and he purrs loudly. "You're not a cat person, I take it."

"Hardly." He gives me a disappointed look, and I can just imagine him adding 'likes cats' to the list of cons he has for me in his head. "Come on now, Georgina. We don't want to miss our reservation."

I nod, grabbing a light jacket and locking the doors behind us as we leave the apartment. I feel the prickle of eyes on the nape of my neck again as I walk with Andrew down the street. As if somebody's watching me. A quick glance over my shoulder doesn't reveal a thing – the street is empty save for a mom pushing a baby carriage a little behind us. It's just my imagination playing tricks on me.

We drive to the restaurant separately at my request. I don’t want to be stuck with him on the way back if things go south. Andrew seems displeased but he says nothing.

His hand finds its way to the small of my back as we walk up to the building. I shift uncomfortably beneath the weight of his touch, but he doesn't move it, and I feel too nervous to ask him to stop touching me. I remind myself he doesn't mean me any harm, but still breathe out in relief when we arrive at the restaurant and are seated across from each other at the tiny table covered with a checkered tablecloth.

The waiter arrives with the menu, but Andrew brushes him off, ordering for the both of us. I knit my brows together when he does it, not liking how he took the liberty to get me food. What if I had an allergy, or didn't eat certain foods? He never checked with me, and it's hard for me to fight off the feeling of annoyance.

He orders our wine too, red, even though I prefer white, and I sulk through the evening as he goes on about his medical achievements. The food is delicious – not something I would've picked for myself, but still yummy, and it's a small reprieve to the evening. Somehow, we manage to go through the entire bottle of red, and I decide to stop with my third glass. I never drink, and the booze has gone straight to my head, fraying my nerves.

The evening is pleasant enough, but I already know I won't go on a second date with Andrew. There's just no chemistry there, and I don't casually sleep with men, either, so I don't really see a point in us continuing this.

It seems Andrew doesn't feel the same way, though. He keeps reaching for my knee under the table, and I feign ignorance, carefully maneuvering my body so we never touch for longer than a couple of seconds. When the bill arrives, he gallantly offers to pay, though his expectant look only softens when I say I'd like to pay for my share. I don't feel comfortable making him pay for me since I won't go out with him again, and even though it makes me cringe because of the exorbitant price, I count out the bills to cover my half of the dinner and hand them to him.

I only realize just how tipsy I am when we get up to leave. My knees threaten to buckle. That third glass of wine was a step too far, and I'm regretting it as Andrew slips my jacket on my shoulders and we leave the restaurant. We walk through the parking lot and I start to find the whole situation ridiculous, giggling softly when we nearly crash into one another.

There's a moment of camaraderie when a smile passes between us, but Andrew must mistake it for me wanting more, because before I know it, he's caged my body beneath his against a car.

"I knew you wanted me," he mutters against my cheek as I awkwardly twist my head away from him. "It was all over your face."

"I'm sorry, Andrew, I –"

"No more excuses." His tone is demanding, and he starts to feel me up, making me cringe as his hand slips between my legs and fight its way to my crotch. I resist him, trying to make it clear I don't want this, but he disregards the situation completely. "You nurses are all the same. Put a title in front of a man's name, and you're putty in their hands."

I couldn't give two shits about him being a doctor, but I have a feeling telling him as much will only make him angrier. Instead, I grab his hands and try to pry them off my body, but he overpowers me easily, laughing in my face.

"Andrew, please stop."

My voice is firm and collected, though there's a tremble in it, and I do my best to hide it as I slip away from his touch. But he keeps grabbing at me, his hand brushing against my tits, against my crotch. I want to kill him, but he would easily overpower me.

He presses himself against me, his hands rough as he feels me up, and when I cry out, he backhands me. I gasp from the unexpected pain, my eyes filling with tears. I struggle against him, but he raises a hand and hits me again.

I’m so shocked I can barely breathe and it seems as if we’re both rendered speechless by his slap.

But he’s not done yet.

He continues trying to grab hold of me while I desperately fight him off.

Then, there’s a loud beep like a car being unlocked, and he's momentarily distracted. I use the moment to slip from his grasp and take off toward my car, rattling with the door handle and praying he’s not fast enough.

I get in the car and lock the door just as Dr. Martin runs up to me. I rev the engine and get the hell out of that parking lot.

I hate what tonight has turned into, but not as much as I hate myself for agreeing to this date in the first place.

The drive home is quiet and sad, and when I walk into my apartment, my cats greet me with loud purrs. I fight the urge to cry. I feel utterly exhausted from the disastrous date, and I'm tempted to run to the deli beneath my apartment for another bottle of wine. But I don't let myself do it. The only reason I’m still sane is because I keep my demons at bay.

Instead, I curl up in bed with Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hudson, their warm bodies a welcome comfort against my shivering form. I shut my eyes tightly and will myself to sleep.

I dream of someone comforting me.

5

JASPER

A doctor.

That’s who she’s wearing the lingerie for. The one she dolled up for and put on perfume.

He seems in his forties, clean cut with golden blond hair and bland blue eyes that appear washed with bleach.

Or perhaps that’s what I want to do to those eyes. Carve them up and wash them with bleach —or wash him, I’m not picky.

They’re having dinner in a secluded restaurant at the urban side of the city.

Secluded because the little doctor here is hiding from his wife. I’ve seen him with her at the time I was watching Rebecca and then again when I was following Petal. This is probably where he brings his mistresses.

Does she know?

I lean back against my car that I parked in a hidden area, but still gives me a partial view of the restaurant. My binoculars are glued to my eyes again as I tilt my head to the side.

Petal is getting drunk; her cheeks have reddened and she’s been giving that fake smile more than usual.

Is that what this is all about —fucking a married older man? Is that her kink?

My grip tightens on the binoculars as he brushes his hand against hers. Petal doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t give in either. Her expression is frozen in that fake smile that she’s struggling to maintain the more she drinks.

Interesting.

This couldn’t have been going on for too long. Otherwise, she would’ve been sucking his dick in the bathroom by now.

A dick that will be cut off, by the way.

I stand in the cold, only wearing my suit and no coat. My fingers have turned numb from all the time I’ve spent here, but I don’t focus on that.

Cold is merely discomfort that will eventually go away. Being cold, hungry, or in pain are only phases. I’ve been through worse and I’m still here.

After some time, both of them exit the restaurant. Petal’s steps are slow, probably because she’s drunk as fuck and should’ve stopped at the first glass.

Dr. Asshole reaches a hand to steady her when she trips. She giggles, then hides the sound with the back of her hand.

She fucking giggles. I don’t hear her, but I see it loud and clear.

The doctor hears her though. Not only he wined and dined her, but he also hears her giggling.

Fucking giggling.

They stop in front of a car. I move in the other cars’ blindspots, making sure I give my side profile and back to the restaurant’s two blinking cameras.

I stand opposite them behind the corner. This close, I have no need for the binoculars. It’s dark in the parking lot, but it’s not too dark so I can’t see. There’s a faint light in the distance that gives a perfect view of my little Petal and her cheater doctor.

Petal has her back against a car as Dr. Asshole closes in on her, almost flattening his body against hers.

I notice it before I see it.

She’s uncomfortable. Her unfocused eyes keep straying sideways as if finally realizing she shouldn’t have had that second glass of wine —or the fucking third one. Her small delicate hand plants on the doctor’s shoulder and she subtly pushes him away.

He doesn’t move. If anything, he goes in for a kiss like a hormonal teenager. I’m about to go in there and remove him, when she moves her head last second and his lips land on her cheek.

Petal goes back to fighting him off, saying something about having to go home.

To her cats, no doubt. She’d hold them and tell them she made a fucking mistake coming here today.

That’s when the doctor makes his mistake. He lifts his hand and backhands her, harshly, violently. Petal remains frozen, but moisture pools in her eyes. Slowly, too slowly, she raises a hand and cradles her cheek as if she can’t believe what just happened.

I believe it, though.

My body believes it, too. Earlier, I barely had an itch to reach for my knife, but now it’s become a necessity as important as air.

He’s just made his first strike.

My little Petal is still focused on the violence of his slap when his fat hand reaches under her black dress. She opens her mouth, probably to scream. He slaps her again and continues with his hand between her legs.

Second and final strike.

Petal’s useless struggles get her nowhere. If anything, she’s only making him get closer and flattening his body against hers.

I click the control to my car and the beeping sound interrupts his ministrations. My little Petal, although a bit drunk, pushes the doctor away enough to run towards her car.

He yells after her like a madman with no reprieve. Someone needs some anger management classes. But he’s too late. Petal’s eyes are wide, face pale, but she has floored the gas and she’s out of the parking lot.

The doctor curses, stomping like a child who didn’t get his toy.

I don’t think twice before creeping up to him, making sure to leave the cameras behind me.

He doesn’t feel me until I’m standing right at his back. He startles like a pig, dropping his keys.

“What the fuck?” He stares up at me. “What do you want?”

“Your blood.”

He doesn’t get a warning. His stupified expression is the only thing that remains as I swiftly jam my knife into his throat.

I twist it a few times for good measure until his eyes stare nowhere.

I only remove my blade when he drops on the ground like a useless sack.

His blood. Red and vibrant, trickles onto the asphalt.

It’s the only type of payment I take.

Ah fuck.

I just killed someone without a reason —well, no reason that relates to Costa. I can’t ask his cleaning boys to take care of this.

Doesn’t matter though. I wipe the knife on his clothes then sheathe it. Retrieving my gloves, I pull them on then search for his wallet. I take the few bills inside it then throw it on his corpse.

Cause of death: a fatal wound to the jugular artery.

Motive: robbery went wrong.

Case closed.

Making sure I stay in the cameras’ blind spots, I head back to my car and drive to the apartment — Petal’s, not mine.

Her lights are out, and I sneak in through the fire escape, which is the easiest shit I’ve done in my life. As I said, no security whatsoever in this building.

A low hiss stops me in the living room. One of her cats stares at me with glinting demon eyes in the dark. The other one winks at me from his position on the sofa.

I place a hand in front of my mouth, but the cat growls then jumps behind the TV.

Crazy fucking cat.

My steps are silent and fast as I move in the shadows. Yes, she can come out and see me, and maybe that’s what I want. If she sees me, she’ll think twice about wearing lingerie and getting drunk with a perverted fucker.

I stop at the threshold of her bedroom. Her eyes are shut as she sleeps, still in her black dress. Waves of her hair cocoon her face like some sort of a mask, different from the one she wears every day.

My feet move of their own volition until I’m standing over her bed. Her face is flushed, probably from the wine, or the fright. Maybe both.

The sheet falls to her middle, revealing the curve of her pale breast. My fingers latch on the covers and I tuck her in like she’s a child.

She can be fragile and small, my little Petal.

Lucio always told me to take contract jobs for his friends, but none of their money interested me. With the exception of Lucio, I never kill for people.

Until now.

My little Petal made me kill for her without a word or a penny. Well, she didn’t exactly make me, but it counts.

I killed for her.

And the best part? I would do it all over again.

My fingers touch her forehead, tucking a stray strand behind her ear as I whisper, “Keep away from that brand of assholes if you don’t want them all dead.”

6

GEORGINA

My alarm clock blares and I wake up with a sigh.

The duvet is tucked in around me and I realize I just had the best night's sleep in years. My cats are excited as ever and I feed them before remembering the previous night, groaning. Facing Andrew Martin at work today will not be ideal, but at least I have my friends, who will stay on my side no matter what.

I already know today is going to be hellish, but nothing prepares me for the shitshow I walk into as soon as I arrive at work.

There are cop cars everywhere, officers glancing at me as I pass them by. I furrow my brows with worry. We do get policemen coming by sometimes, usually to deal with an especially difficult, violent patient. But this seems like more than that – like something's seriously wrong.

I walk to the ER where I find a shaken-up Katya answering questions. She looks pale as a ghost, and when her eyes meet mine, she breathes, "Oh, thank God. There she is now!"

Instantly, the heads of three policemen who are surrounding my friend turn toward me. My stomach tightens into a thousand knots and I nod at the officers as I near my friend, squeezing her arm in an attempt to comfort her. "What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"Oh, Georgie," Katya lets out a choked sob. "I... I don't even know how to tell you this."

"Just let us do our job," an older policeman suggests, giving her a firm look and making her nod sheepishly before he turns to face me. "Miss Georgina Hill, is it?"

"Yes," I reply warily. "What's going on?"

"It's Dr. Martin," Katya blurts out, shaking her head in disbelief. "Georgie, he's, he's..."

"Dr. Martin was the target of a robbery last night," the policeman says matter-of-factly. "He sustained knife injuries in the parking lot of a restaurant downtown, Antonio's. Unfortunately, the injuries were fatal."

My mouth gapes open in shock and I glance between my friend and the policemen, trying to make sense of the cop's words. "You mean he's... gone?"

Nobody answers my question, and the words float in the air between us. Finally, the older cop speaks up again. "My name is Detective Ramirez, Miss Hill. We'd like to talk to you about what happened last night between you and the late doctor. As I'm sure you know, his wife is very much upset."

My expression falls instantly, and Katya and I repeat the word in unison. "Wife?"

"Yes." The detective glances between the two of us with surprise. "You were not aware he was married?"

"I know he'd separated a while ago," Katya mutters, shooting me an apologetic look.

"No, he never separated." Detective Ramirez checks his notebook and shakes his head. "Been married twenty-six years. No kids. His wife, Debbie, was anxious when he didn't return home, and she's extremely upset about... the circumstances of last night."

"I had no idea he was married," I go on, not letting the words get to me. "I'm sure my friends at the hospital did not, either. As for the circumstances, the guy groped me in an empty parking lot, without my consent. That about answer your question, detective?"

I can feel Katya cringing next to me, trying to console me by gently squeezing my forearm. I haven't even had the time to fill her in on everything that's happened.

"We gathered as much," Ramirez mutters. "There were security cameras in the parking lot. We saw the... altercation between you and Dr. Martin."

"Good." I cross my arms defensively in front of my body. "So, what happened?"

"He was attacked moments after you left the parking lot. We have reason to believe you were targeted by a hooded robber last night, the very one who stabbed the doctor and took his stuff. We needed to check with you to see if you'd noticed anything unusual, out of the ordinary. Perhaps someone following you around?"

Ramirez has poised pen over paper, his notebook clutched in his hands as he looks at me expectantly.

"I..." I chew my bottom lip, remembering the feeling of being watched.

It was just a feeling, though – I have no solid proof somebody was actually watching. But now the possibility stretches ahead of me, filling me with dread and fear. Someone tracked us, targeted us. If I hadn't gotten away when I did, they might have hurt me too.

"I don't remember seeing anyone suspicious."

The detective continues by asking me some more questions. He wants to know my relationship with Andrew, whether we'd been seeing each other regularly, how we got to the restaurant. I answer the best I can, but by the end of the informal interview, it's obvious both to me and the detective I won't be able to shine any more light on the case.

"If you remember anything else that could help us, please give me a call."

I glance at the business card he hands me before nodding and pocketing it. Katya and I say our goodbyes to the somber policemen and wait for them to file out of the room. I still have ten minutes before my shift, just enough to catch up with my friends, and Katya has so many questions she can't even wait for the other member of our group to join us.

"Are you okay?" It's the first question to leave her lips when the cops leave, and I nod.

We're joined by Dinah who seems just as shell-shocked as she slides into the plastic seat in the cafeteria across from us.

“What a nightmare, Georgie,” she whispers. “I’m so, so sorry I made you go out with him.”

"You didn't know," I mutter. "Nobody did."

"A killer, so close to home. God, I took the kids to Antonio's just a week ago."

I squeeze her hand to reassure her, but it doesn't do much to help. We're all shaken up by the news of Andrew’s murder, and even though he wasn't a nice guy, the thought that I was probably one of the last people to see him alive tugs at my heartstrings and makes me tremble with fear.

There's a monster preying on the streets, and I just barely escaped his clutches. I should count my lucky stars. Dr. Martin wasn't as fortunate.

The three of us eat our breakfast without saying much. I'm almost ready to start my shift when we're joined by Bill, a nurse that works with me in the ER.

"Hey, ladies," he says, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Georgie, I heard what happened... I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I mutter robotically. I don't really feel like talking about it. Bill's sweet enough, but it's not like we're as close as I am with the girls.

"Always here if you need to talk," he adds. "Want to walk together?"

"Sure." I throw away my sandwich wrapper and wave lifelessly at my girls. "I'll see you two later, okay? Dinah, say hello to the kids for me."

"Of course," she nods though her expression is tinged with sadness. The murder has sucked the life out of everyone, not just Dr. Martin.

I follow Bill to the ER. I'm grateful he doesn't try to keep up a conversation, because I'm not sure I could hold it up on my end. I'm working a double shift today, and for once, I'm grateful for it. It's going to be a good distraction from everything that's happened. I realize Bill's started talking, and I push my thoughts to the back of my mind and tune in.

"I wish I'd known he'd asked you out. I knew he was married – all the guys do."

"It's okay. It's my own mistake."

"But it could have been prevented," he goes on. "I'm just sorry you had to find out this way."

"I can't believe someone just... killed him," I say, surprising myself by opening up to Bill. "I was with him moments before it happened. It could have been me, too."

"Thank God it wasn't."

He squeezes my forearm and I manage a weak smile. I don't really like being touched by strangers, but Bill's sweet, and nothing like Dr. Martin.

Even though I've heard other employees gossiping about his crush on me for years, he's never once been inappropriate. He hasn't asked me out either, which is probably for the best. I'm in no place to date right now, and I would feel bad turning him down.

"I'm just glad you're safe, Georgie. Look, if it will make you feel better... I wanted to offer to walk you to your car after work."

"That's really thoughtful, Bill." I manage a weak smile. "You're right, it would make me feel better. I might take you up on that offer."

"Please do." His smile tells me I've said the right thing, and we go our separate ways when we reach the ER, him being pulled away to change some bandages, and me, to deal with a shooting victim.

I work relentlessly through my double shift, only taking ten minutes off to grab a sandwich at the cafeteria. I need the distraction badly, and I'm grateful to my body for switching on the autopilot. I can work without thinking – there's so much to do, I barely have time to remember what happened last night.

When my double shift is finally over, it's the middle of the night. I take Bill up on his offer and he walks me to my Honda parked in the lot in front of the hospital. He's nothing but a gentleman, and I'm grateful that he isn't trying to take advantage of my mental state when I'm vulnerable.

"I can do this every night," he says as I unlock my crappy old car.

"That would make me feel a lot safer," I reply with a soft smile. "Thank you, Bill."

We say our goodbyes and I drive home in silence, my heart starting to pound the closer I get to home. My apartment has always been a safe haven, and if nothing else, I have my cats there to keep me company.

I walk into the apartment to the cats' protests and feed them right away, petting their soft fur. I feel so bad leaving them when I have to work double shifts, so I open the balcony door so they can watch the outside world. I lie down on the couch with my favorite mug filled with hot peppermint tea, and try to unwind a little, though it seems an impossible task. My mind keeps going back to Dr. Martin and the horrible way he ended up leaving this world.

When I reach for my fluffy blanket, I find it folded over the chair instead of the sofa. Weird. I could have sworn I left it on the sofa, like I always do. I get up to collect it, and when I do, I get the strange feeling that something's off.

I can't quite put my finger on it. It's as if some things have been moved, taken from their place and then carefully placed back. The differences are subtle – my calendar slightly askew on the fridge door, the picture frame with me, Dinah and Katya turned the wrong way. Fear and panic seep through my pores as I search for more signs that someone's been in here. But nothing is missing. It's just the little differences in how things are positioned.

I try to calm down by telling myself it's nothing, though I don't quite manage to convince myself.

After watching an episode of my favorite TV show, I head to the bathroom and draw myself a long, hot bath. As I soak in the comfort of the rose-scented bubbles, I allow myself to relax. Nobody's going to hurt me. Nobody is out to get me. I'm just shaken because of what happened with Dr. Martin, but even that was just a freakish, unplanned robbery. I got off lucky. I need to remember that.

I close my eyes for a long moment, allowing myself to relax in the comfort of the tub. When my eyes fly open again, they zero in on something on the tile floor, a small, black dot on the otherwise spotless white tile.

It's a spider.

My body moves of its own accord, panicking. Water sloshes over the edge of the tub and my teeth begin to chatter as I stare at the harmless creature in the middle of the bathroom. I'm suddenly terrified, frozen to the spot. I can't even call out for help. My heart is fucking pounding. My head is all over the place. The longer I look at that fucking spider, the more I want to scream.

A memory assaults my mind. A woman, reaching out for me, a scream tearing itself from her lips as she tries to grab hold of me. Then, a bullet burying itself in her chest from behind. Blood blooming on her white blouse, the stain getting bigger and bigger.

The sound of screaming fills my head, a memory of the past I've long tried to leave behind. The deja-vu is so intense I choke on my own breath, my eyes filling with tears I don't understand.

The woman falls to the ground before my eyes, little chubby hands extending toward her. My hands. My mother. Dead on the floor. Her body like a spider's, arms and legs fanned out on the wood, broken, dead.

I want to scream but I can't. I can't even breathe. It takes all my effort to slowly pick myself up, hands shaking as I grab for the towel on the rack next to the tub. I cover myself up and tiptoe around the unmoving spider. I head to the kitchen, my heart still pounding with inexplicable fear as I collect a glass from the kitchen cabinet. I head back to the bathroom. The black dot is still on the ground, and I quickly place the glass over it. Despite my fear of spiders, I can't bring myself to hurt it. It's innocent. It doesn't deserve to die.

I walk out backwards, with my front facing the monster on the ground, locking the bathroom door from the outside before I finally breathe out in relief. The memories that assaulted my mind when I saw the thing seem unbelievable now, but something rings true deep within me every time I remember the scene.

Crawling into bed with my cats, I yawn and pull the covers close. Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hudson cuddle up next to me and I pull the covers over us. But somehow, it's even scarier beneath them.

After tossing and turning all night, I wake up to the sound of my blaring alarm clock yet again.

Groaning, I get free of the covers and let out an involuntary shiver when I remember what happened yesterday. First, Andrew Martin... and then the spider in my bathroom.

Goosebumps erupt all over my skin and I force myself to use the bathroom door. I try to unlock it, but it's not locked anymore. Furrowing my brows, I walk into the tiled space.

The glass is gone.

There's nothing on the tile anymore.

I want to cry. I swallow back a scream and run into the kitchen, throwing open the cupboard. I try to think rationally, telling myself I have six of those glasses. I just need to count them to make sure everything's okay. I count out loud, painfully slowly, my fingers tracing the shapes of each glass.

"One, two, three. Four, five... Six."

All the glasses are there. Did I imagine the spider last night?

I dig through the muggy mess in my mind. Am I losing it? Why can't I remember things properly?

I tell myself I must've been very tired last night, and that's why I'm mixing things up. The spider was like something out of a nightmare. It's totally possible I imagined it when I was lying in bed, so tired after my shift... right?

Swallowing, I force myself to close the kitchen cupboard. I get ready for work robotically, pulling on clothes, brushing my hair, swiping mascara on my lashes. I tell myself it's nothing.

As I drive to work, I still feel it.

The nagging feeling of being watched, being followed.

I don't know if it's ever going to go away now.

7

JASPER

I stare at the spider —a small thing with hairy legs and an ugly fucking face.

And yet, it put my little Petal into a complete panic mode.

“What’s your story, boy?” I narrow my eyes on him. “Who gave you the right to mess with her head?”

Only I have the right to do that, and I didn’t even start yet.

At least, not officially.

I know she senses me, with the small looks she throws around her, but she always brushes it off.

I throw the spider out of the balcony. For fuck’s sake, I’m starting to speak to animals like the cat lady herself.

She’s at work now, and I didn’t follow her because I have a meeting with one of Costa’s old workers, someone who can recognize the Costa heir’s whereabouts.

Still, I sit at my balcony and stuff a cigarette between my lips, watching her living room. The two cats are lazing around by the closed door, waiting for her to return.

Considering she was the last one with Dr. Asshole, the police must’ve visited her, asked her questions, but the camera gave her an alibi. She left before I ‘robbed’ him.

She should be safe.

Not that her safety matters, but I still have unfinished business with my little Petal and the police don’t get to have their noses in my fucking fun.

My phone vibrates on the table. Lucio. I take a long drag of my cigarette before I answer.

“The fuck, Jasper?” The bellow of his voice in my ear nearly deafens me, and I have to hold the phone away for a second.

“Good day to you, too, Lucio.”

“Cut the crap. I have a report about a dead doctor with a fatal wound to the neck. This has your fingerprints all over it.”

“I’m too pro to leave fingerprints.”

“You know what I mean.” Something slams on a harsh surface on his end —probably his hand against the desk. “That’s your MO and anyone who met you knows it.”

“We’re lucky most of them are dead, no?”

He pauses. “Does this have to do with finding Paolo’s son?”

If I tell him yes, he’ll dig into it and force results, and when he figures out there aren’t any, it’ll be a different type of hell.

Despite my semi-independence, my loyalty runs with Lucio, and if he suspects I’m lying to him, it’ll only turn ugly for the both of us.

“It’s personal,” I keep it vague.

“Personal how.”

“He pissed me off.” And he touched what he shouldn’t have.

The list can go on.

“Pissed you off?” He repeats in an incredulous tone. “You have perfect self-control.”

True.

Only not with my little Petal. That immaculate self-control has been chipping at the edges, and soon enough, there’ll be a snap.

I have enough self-control to recognize that.

“Won’t happen again,” I tell Lucio.

“Of course it won’t. I told you to keep a low profile this period, Jasper. I don’t have police dummies to spare for someone who pissed you off. Paolo’s men are pushing for his heir, and if you don’t find him before them, well, I don’t have to tell you what’s done to useless dogs.”

“Noted.”

The line goes dead. I stub out the cigarette on the edge of the table, not bothering with an ashtray.

Lucio might have saved my life, but if I’m of no use, I’m disposable just like the rest.

That’s why I made sure to be unlike the rest. I’m someone he can’t live without, let alone think about disposing of.

The day he finds someone more efficient than me, he’ll send them after my life as a test to take my place.

I know because I became his number one hitman after I took care of the previous one.

That won’t be the same for me. I’m goal-oriented enough to keep my head focused on the endgame.

Track. Find. Kill.

So what the fuck am I doing here, watching a girl’s cats and wondering about their fucking names?

There are two options to erase my little Petal out of my head.

Option one: find out everything to know about her, she’ll turn out to be boring and I’ll move along. I usually lose interest in people whenever I know details about their lives —that’s if I have any interest in them in the first place.

That option is halfway done now. It’s time to complete the job.

An hour later, I’m going through my little Petal’s credentials in her bedroom. I don’t sit, and I’m wearing gloves out of habit, even though there are no actual security threats. Breaking into her house is fucking child’s play. I can even have a double key made.

I store that idea for later.

The two cats watch me wearily, actually only one of them is, the orange tabby. He’s been hissing and growling like the other night but is now glaring like he wants to bite me.

Does he think he’s a fucking dog?

The other one sleeps at the foot of Petal’s bed, its tail darting back and forth.

I rummage through her desk and stare at her diploma and official documentation. Her name is Georgina Hill, twenty-seven years old, and has graduated from nursing school a few years ago. She worked in a private clinic before moving to the state hospital.

Grade A student and an actual nerd —aside from being a cat lady.

Her photo album is filled with pictures from foster children fundraising —she was the recipient in several.

Even as a pre-teen and a teen, she had that fake, fucked smile all over her face.

An orphan.

That would’ve been interesting if I cared. So far, nothing stands out. Boring life, boring beginning. I’m starting to think her orange cat is the only interesting thing in her life. He’s a furious little thing.

And maybe her irrational fear of spiders.

I tap my gloved index finger against a picture of her nurse school graduation. Why did she choose this profession? Why did she look on the verge of dying upon seeing that tiny spider?

Fuck this.

I should get out of that door, leave the apartment across the street and wipe the girl with metal eyes and fake smile from my head.

And yet, I can’t.

It’s as simple and as complicated as that.

I simply can’t.

So I move on to the second option. Two girls stand on either side of my little Petal on her graduation day. Her nurse friends in the state hospital.

One of them picked her up when her ugly Honda didn’t start up a few days ago.

The orange cat hisses at me as I arrange the files exactly where I found them. There’ll be days where I’ll go in-depth about her things, but for now, I have to meet my contact and settle this Costa heir issue once and for all.

A black cloth peeks from the underwear drawer and I retrieve it. A pair of lace panties.

I put them under my nose and inhale. It’s nothing like her lilac scent and more fresh, washed.

Shame.

After putting them back where they belong, I’m out.

The fat orange cat follows me all the way to the living room then jumps on the counter near a cup. I stop and turn around then rotate the black cup to read what’s written on it.

I work hard so my cat can have a better life.

A deep chuckle leaves my lips. This is a serious cat lady, isn’t she?

The orange tabby jumps away, still glaring at me as if not approving of how I’m laughing about his owner —or his maid, depending on his perspective.

After one last sweep over her small apartment, I make a note of where I can install listening devices. Then I snap a picture of the calendar she’s pinned to her refrigerator. It’s filled with dates about her nights out with the girls, which happens every weekend if she doesn’t work the night shift.

If she needs to write it in her calendar, she must not care about those nights much.

My little Petal’s life might seem boring from the outside looking in, but there’s something that lurks under the surface.

I can smell it as easily as I smell blood and sense it as easily as I detect fear in my opponents’ eyes before I carve them the fuck up.

My instinct tells me to dig deeper, and while it’s fucking irritating not to know where this is taking me, I don’t ignore my instinct.

THE CONTACT I MET, the previous gardener of the Costas’, barely remembers the boy. He only knows that Paolo Costa brought his woman and child and then they were gone the same week.

The boy could’ve had the name of Salvatore or Saviano.

The gardener, Giovani, is a man in his late eighties and doesn’t remember well.

The information might as well have been fucking useless to me. I know for a fact that Salvatore or Saviano or whatever the fuck his name is, has a mother. She could be dead or alive or hidden by Paolo. However, if he knew where the mother is, he should’ve found his son, too.

Now, I’m back to point zero. The gardener agreed to search for those who worked with him before, the ones who don’t have much of a record with the Costa because they haven’t stayed there long enough to warrant a file.

Most of them are dead, but some are still alive.

With nothing better to do, I go back to my current favorite hobby. Fine, not a hobby, an obsession.

I take a drag of my cigarette as I follow my little Petal. It’s about ten and she opted to walk halfway to the hospital after her car bailed on her.

She really needs to have that car checked, or better yet, throw it the fuck away.

Her steps are fast and fluid, almost as if she’s in a job. Her coat covers her frame, hiding the curves I’ve seen but wasn’t able to feast on.

I keep a good distance, walking on the other side of the street. She wouldn’t have noticed me even if I was walking right behind her. My little Petal is one of those who shut away the outside world when in the middle of chaos, and only focuses on getting where she needs to go.

The police would notice me, though. There’s a slim chance they’re still watching her for what happened with the doctor, and I’m not ready to take that chance.

As she takes the turn to the hospital, I stop. She stops, too, and for a second, I think she sensed me all along and will now turn around and confront me.

I don’t move, waiting for the moment she spins around. If she does, I’ll erase my plans and do this her way.

I’ll show her my true nature, bend her over her balcony and fuck this obsession out of her.

She doesn’t turn around, though.

My little Petal crouches at the corner. I lean sideways to see what she’s doing.

A small black cat sits in the corner and she stares at him with starry-wide eyes, as if she’s seen a treasure. Her smile is bright and soft, reaching her eyes, slightly closing them.

It’s anything but fake.

It’s utter happiness.

Fuck me.

How can someone look at cats like that?

My little Petal reaches into her bag and retrieves a tuna can then offers it to the kitten. Most women keep makeup in their bags, she keeps fucking cat food.

Go figure.

She plays with the kitten for a whole minute, and the little animal appears vulnerable, casting black magic on her to take him.

It’s working, too. Petal continues staring between her watch and the cat, biting her lower lip.

She wants the cat, but she must think she can’t have more.

With one last caress, she stands up and walks ahead, pulling out her phone. She’ll probably call some animal association, she has their cards on her counter, like a good old cat lady.

I turn around and go into Starbucks. I order an espresso and kids’ snack, ignoring the cashier’s attempts to flirt with me as I settle on the table near the door.

It should happen in three seconds, two, one…

The entrance nearly rattles from its hinges as two kids fly inside in all their energy.

A woman follows, wearing scrubs and carrying a wailing baby in her arms.

“Stop that, Oliver,” she yells at her son who’s pulling on his younger sister’s pigtails.

Her eyes are bloodshot, as if she didn’t sleep the previous night, most likely because of the toddler whose mouth she’s shoving a baby bottle into.

“Oliver!” she yells when the kid tries to kick his sister to the ground. “Can’t I order in peace?” Her voice lowers. “For fuck’s sake.”

With their mother turned away, I wave my snack in front of them.

The kid trots in my direction first and the sister follows as their mother gets engrossed in ordering her drink.

“You want this?” I ask Oliver.

He nods once.

“If I give it to you, will you share with your sister?”

He hesitates but then nods again.

“Now ask your mom for permission.”

“Mommy!!” he screams. “Can I have it please, please?”

Dinah finally turns in our direction and notices that her kids aren’t silent because they listened to her.

She smiles at me and I smile back. This isn’t the first time I do this for her kids. It’s precisely the third. We reached a point where she sighs in relief whenever she sees me.

“Oh, my God.” She balances the now quiet toddler on her hip and takes the coffee with her other hand. “You’re a lifesaver, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“They’re adorable kids.” They’re not, but she doesn’t need to know that.

I push the plate in front of them. Oliver and his sister get busy eating as Dinah gulps a mouthful of her latte before she sighs again. She’s one of those who feel out of her element if she doesn’t have caffeine in her system.

“I swear I made the mistake of my life by getting married at my freshman year,” she grumbles while drinking. “It’s stupid, seriously don’t do it.”

I smile, appearing every bit the gentleman she believes I am. “I think it’s too late for that. I’ll be lucky to get married at all now.”

Her slurping stops as she watches me intently. Too intently, like she’s seeing me for the first time. She gives me a onceover and slightly narrows her eyes in calculation.

Bingo.

She’s seeing me from a different perspective.

“Why? How old are you?”

“Thirty-three.” I take a sip of my coffee appearing nonchalant. “I always seem to miss the right one. I don’t give up, though.”

She pauses. “Jasper, right? What did you say you work as again?”

I never mentioned my work, and she well knows that, but she’s using her woman skills to gauge what she needs to know.

“HR in C Electronics.” I give her my card.

C Electronics is one of Lucio’s few legitimate businesses, small but lucrative. And technically, I’m the head of HR for the Costa organization.

I clean the unwanted humans.

Dinah tries to hide she’s impressed as she studies my card, and fails. She’s more than impressed, she already has a plot.

She balances her toddler again, eyes fleeting over her other two children before she meets mine again. “This might seem too sudden, but I actually have an amazing friend who I think would be a great fit for you.”

Bingo again.

I feign disinterest. “No, thanks. I don’t have good experiences with arranged meetings.”

The best way to negotiate is to pretend you don’t care for what the other party offers.

She appears flustered. “Of course. I understand. But I promise it’s different this time.” She leans in to whisper. “She doesn’t like arranged meetings either. You already have something in common.”

Hmm. Interesting.

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Dinah’s eyes light up as she pushes her kids aside, ignoring their protests and retrieves her phone. She shows me a picture of my little Petal carrying a baby, the toddler in Dinah’s arms, I suppose, and smiling softly at the camera.

I know what Dinah’s doing. She’s showing me that Petal actually cares for kids and can be a good mother, wife, the whole package. If she were a seller, Dinah would’ve had the highest sales.

Still, I have this urge to shake her and tell her not to show my little Petal’s pictures to anyone.

That’s not her fucking place.

A red mist covers my vision at the thought that she showed this picture to other men, letting them fantasize about a life with my little Petal.

Fuck them.

“Her name is Georgina —but we call her Georgie. She’s twenty-seven and a complete darling. She listens to me rant all the time and always tells me it’s going to be okay. She’s quiet and a hardworker.” Dinah blurts all the qualities as if she learnt them by heart. “And she’s so pretty.”

I can see that.

I’m only surprised how Dinah doesn’t see the fake smile on her friend’s face.

“I don’t know. She seems too good to be true. How come someone like her isn’t taken?”

“The same reason someone like you isn’t taken. Fate, my friend.”

This woman is an interesting one. I bet she still believes in fairy tales. “Give me something, Dinah.”

She bites her lip, contemplating how to break this to me without killing any hypothetical chance her friend has. “She’s just a loner. It’s nothing bad, it’s only that she prefers to be alone. She had two boyfriends, though. She can adapt.”

Two boyfriends. Interesting.

And will turn more interesting if any of those fuckers returns into her life.

I meet Dinah’s gaze with my suspicious one. “Do I have your word for it?”

A shit-eating grin nearly splits her face open. “Oh, absolutely!”

My entry into my little Petal’s life is done for.

My plan is already in motion.

8

GEORGINA

"Oh my God, have I got the guy for you," Dinah gushes to me at work. "You're going to freaking love him."

"I don't think so." I grimace, pushing away the remnants of my sandwich. "I still haven't completely recovered from the mess that was Dr. Martin."

My friends cringe and Katya reaches for my hand, saying, "I totally understand the hesitation, but you really wanted to meet someone before all this happened, didn't you?"

"I guess," I mutter.

I don't want to admit the truth, which is that I've been feeling more than ready for a relationship for years now. The crippling loneliness of sharing my apartment with nobody but my cats is getting to me, and just for once in my life, I want to have someone who supports me, who pushes me forward just like I've always pushed myself. I'd revealed my innermost thoughts with my friends weeks ago, before the mess with Dr. Martin. I know they want to help me because they love me, and want the best for me, but I really don't think I'm ready for somebody to break my bubble.

"Please," Dinah pleads with me. "I swear, this guy is different. I just know you’ll like him."

"Where did you meet him?" I ask her cautiously.

"At the coffee shop down the street from my apartment," she grins. "He was great with the kids."

"So why not keep him for yourself?" I wink at her.

"Too young," she shrugs with a devilish smile. "But believe me when I say he's charming, and sexy. Plus, you could cut your tongue on that jaw of his."

"Anything else you want to add?" I giggle. "Please convince me you don't want him, because I'm sure not getting that impression."

She shakes her head vehemently, convincing me the guy is perfect for me and she knew it the second she met him. After half an hour of both her and Katya convincing me to meet the guy, I finally cave and agree to meet him. The girls are delighted, and a triumphant Dinah fires off some texts before letting me know my date will pick me up at seven at my apartment. I want to regret agreeing to the whole thing, but something tells me this might be exciting, and as butterflies start to flutter in my stomach, I begin to wonder what the guy will be like.

Jasper, Dinah said his name was.

I try the name on my lips as I get ready for him that evening. I shower and take special care to shave. Everything, from my legs to my armpits and my pussy. I hesitate before I do it, lingering with the razor over the curls on my pussy. But then I run it over, getting rid of the hair. I scrub myself with strawberry body polish and apply lightly scented lotion. I'm reminded of getting ready for my last date, with Andrew, but quickly banish the thought from my head.

Picking out a light pink lingerie set, I slide into a simple blue dress after. Two spritzes of perfume and some quick makeup, and I'm ready to go. I contemplate between my two pairs of heels – one expensive, saved for special occasions, the other a budget variation of the first which I should wear for dates – but never get the chance to pick. The doorbell goes off and I run to the door to greet my date.

I press the button for the intercom, but then there's a knock on the door. I'm not ready yet, but he's already upstairs. Fuck.

I smooth down my dress and flick my hair. Running to the door, I look out through the peephole and swallow thickly when I see the guy.

He's wearing black jeans and a leather jacket with a white shirt underneath. He's... dangerously sexy. His jaw is covered in light stubble and his eyebrows are knitted together as if he's displeased with me already. His lips are full, and he has a cigarette between them, unlit.

Right then, he looks directly into the peephole.

I jump back, quickly unlocking the door and opening it wide.

He takes his time devouring me with his eyes. The way he looks at me, from bottom to top, his eyes lingering on my bare feet, makes me feel faint. He slides his gaze over my curves, waiting a beat too long on my chest, and then up to my face. He doesn't smile when he meets my eyes, he just stares me down like he's waiting for me to faint at the sight of him or something. I'm about to write him off as cocky when something hits me.

I've seen those blue-gray, stormy eyes before.

Where have I seen them?

My heart skips a beat as he finally smirks at me, removing his cigarette and asking in a deep, growly voice, "Well? Can I come in, or are you leaving barefoot?"

"Of c-course." I bite my tongue for stuttering and step aside, allowing him to enter the apartment. The cats stare at him warily from across the room. "I'll just grab my things and we can go... These are Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hudson."

"Cute," he mutters, but his eyes never leave me, watching me walk frantically from one corner of the apartment to the other.

I grab my handbag and a light coat and stop in front of the heels again. After a moment's thought, I put on the more expensive ones, and when I turn around to face Jasper, his smirk is all-knowing, as if he knows exactly what decision I just made.

Jasper towers over me as I follow him out of the apartment, locking the door behind us. I give him a nervous smile as I follow him to the parking lot under the building.

"Which one's yours?" I motion to the cars, and he leads me to a Mercedes that looks out of place in this neighborhood. I give him a suspicious look but climb into the passenger seat without comment. The guy actually holds the door open for me and even closes it, but instead of enjoying the gentlemanly move, I feel suspiciously like he's just successfully trapped me in his car.

Still, the worry doesn't last long. Jasper is just too freaking handsome, distractingly so. As he drives us to the cinema, I nervously fold my arms in my lap and keep glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

"I can feel you staring at me, you know. You're not being very sly about it."

"Oh." I flush and look out the window, so he won't notice. "Sorry. I guess I'm just trying to figure out how somebody like you knows someone like Dinah."

"That's your friend, right?"

"Um, yeah." I shoot another doubtful look his way. "How well do you know her?"

"We met at a café," he shrugs.

"Just the one time?"

"She seemed pretty eager to set me up with you." He smirks and this time, it's his turn to glance at me. "Must've thought we'd work well together."

I curse Dinah inwardly for setting me up with someone she barely knows. I mean, this guy could be a psycho, for fuck's sake. Dinah's not worried about me at all, is she?

It almost makes me laugh because I'm not sure whether she's really so confident I'll be able to hold my own. But she has said it a thousand times, and so has Katya. They've told me how strong I am. How proud they are of me for overcoming my past, for moving along everything I've gone through. They know all my dark secrets – the boarding school, the foster homes. They know everything, and they still love and accept me, and I adore them for it.

"So, what are we seeing?" he asks after a moment's pause, as I realize I've been holding up the conversation with my awkward silences.

"Revenge Kill Seven," I reply smoothly. "Have you seen the first six movies?" He barely stifles a laugh and I pout at him. "Oh, don't tell me you're one of those movie snobs."

"Nah. Just not a fan of D-rated horror porn."

"Neither am I." I'm so eager to defend myself.

"Sure, Georgina." My name sounds delicious on his lips, as if it belongs there. He says it with such ease, dark intent dripping from the word.

Fuck. I realize I'm sitting in a puddle of my own juices and my cheeks flare up again. What the hell is this guy doing to me? Why am I responding to him like this? It's like he's holding a magnet that pulls my body against his, an invisible force making me want to press myself up against him, feel his sculpted body hold mine.

I shake my head to get the thought out just as we pull into the parking lot of the cinema. Before I manage to so much as unbuckle, he's opening my door again, and I get out of the car, mumbling a thank you. Something about this Jasper guy unnerves me. Something's off, but I can't quite put my finger on it, and it's not enough – yet – for me to walk out on the date. It's like a delicious current is running through my body when I'm near him, my body running on sheer anticipation.

We walk inside the cinema, and I instantly feel several pairs of eyes on us. I'm sure it's not because of me, especially when I notice two women staring at Jasper hungrily. So, I'm not alone in my thoughts that he's smoking hot... the other women are seeing it too. It almost makes me feel a little smug about being there with him, and I straighten up as we walk to the entrance.

"Wait," Jasper mutters. "Don't you want some snacks?"

"Uh..." I do some quick calculations to see if I can afford it, but I don't want to deprive Jasper of a snack if he wants one, so I find myself nodding wordlessly.

Turns out, I needn't have worried about the money at all – my date picks out several bags of candy and two giant Cokes and smoothly pays for it all before handing me my cup. I fight the smile off my face and follow him into the screening room.

We take our seats at the back, and quickly realize we'll be practically alone in the room. The movie's been playing for a month now, and it seems as if the initial crowd of its fans has already seen it. There are only a few other couples in the theater beside us, and a group of teenagers who are sitting three rows before us.

There's no time to chat, and Jasper hands me a bag of candy wordlessly as the movie starts with a scene that instantly makes me scream.

I forgot just how bloody the Revenge Kill movies are, and I shiver, forgetting about my snacks as the movie unfolds on the screen.

There's a murder in the first five minutes, grisly and terrifying and I put my palm out, splaying out my fingers and looking at the screen through them. Jasper glances at me, smirking at my fear, which only makes me angry. I glare at him before returning my attention to the screen just in time to see a woman getting cut in half.

I let out a shrill scream and Jasper leans in closer, whispering, "You know this was in the trailer for the movie, right?"

"Shut up," I mutter.

We watch the movie for a while longer, and it keeps getting gorier and gorier, making me scoot closer to Jasper without really noticing it. I've jumped in terror at least half a dozen times now, and it seems to amuse Jasper more and more every time.

"You sure you can make it through this?" he whispers in my ear, and I shrug uncertainly.

The movie's scarier than I remember, and I'm shaking like a leaf. But I don't want to admit it to Jasper. I know he'd make fun of me, and I'm stubborn so it would bother me.

My teeth start chattering a little while later and this time, Jasper thankfully doesn't comment. But a moment later, his palm covers my hand on the armrest. I look at him with surprise, but he won't meet my eyes, casually eating candy with his other hand while he begins to gently stroke my hand, never taking his eyes off the screen. His touch sends shivers down my spine and makes goosebumps erupt all over my skin.

I want more.

The realization hits me like a freight train, and I dig my teeth into my bottom lip to get the thought out. I can't let myself want this guy. There's something about him, something a little... off. I don't quite trust him, and my gut feeling tells me I really, really shouldn't. But it's so hard not to let it happen... to resist the magnetic pull between us, the invisible force that's demanding me to ask for more, to beg for him to touch me, feel me, comfort me.

I bite my tongue before the words leave my lips. It's getting hard to focus on the movie. My attention is on Jasper, and I keep glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. I want him. I need him. I want him to make me better.

As if he can read my mind, my date slides our intertwined hands into my lap, casually interlocking his fingers. Under my dress, my legs are bare, and his fingers feel like fire against my burning skin. I want so much more it takes my breath away, but I refuse to admit it to Jasper. Once again, I try to focus on the film, but it's as if he senses that and is determined not to allow it. He begins stroking my hand again, soft, gentle and comforting strokes that instantly make me feel better. He draws circles in the palm of my hand every time something terrifying happens on the screen, and it's the perfect distraction from my pounding heart.

Somewhere around the middle of the movie, Jasper pulls our hands onto his lap. I'm instantly scared, and the feeling grows when I feel something as hard as a rock. I flush, thankful to the dimmed lights of the theater for not giving me away. I hope he won't try to make me touch him... or maybe I hope he does... Fuck.

But Jasper's the perfect gentleman. He keeps silently comforting me with light, sweet touches, and I keep blushing every time I accidentally brush my fingers against his growing bulge. I made him hard. I did that. I made his cock swell with need and desire, and the mere thought turns me on so much I'm nearly panting. I swallow my gasps, but it's hopeless – by the end of the movie, I don't even pretend to know what happened on the screen.

As the credits roll, Jasper lets go of my hand and I self-consciously pull it back. He doesn't say a word as the lights come on, and I put on my jacket, following him out of the cinema and wondering whether he'll address what happened in there.

He doesn't.

I hide my disappointment as we walk to a restaurant a block away from the movie theater. He talks about the movie, but I don't really participate in the conversation. I don't get him. Why try and comfort me only to pretend as if nothing happened at all?

"So, you like to punish yourself, don't you?"

I look at Jasper, the faint hint of a smile still playing on his lips. "Why are you asking me that?"

"You picked the movie. A horror movie, even though you spent most of the time watching it through your fingers. You were scared."

"So?" I'm instantly defensive.

"So, why do it if you don't actually enjoy it?" He taunts me with his smirk. "I think you're a glutton for self-punishment, Georgina."

My heart skips a beat every time he uses my full name, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I refuse to answer, glaring at the floor. When I still went to see my therapist, this was her opinion, too – that I liked to hurt myself.

I'd spent years self-harming, but now my poison of choice was horror flicks. I'd binge watch them at home, forcing myself to sit through the most graphic scenes with my heart pounding and my head filled with terrible ideas of what could happen to me. Of course, this was something my therapist dug out of me after years of sessions.

It only took Jasper one date.

The hostess in the restaurant guides us to a romantic table for two. The setting is perfect, with a single red rose in a vase on the table, and a candle burning next to it. It's romantic, sweet and fills me with hope... hope that Jasper puts out with every second we spend at the table.

He doesn't speak much. We order our food and after that, he spends an eternity just staring at me while I fumble with my cloth napkin. I fold it over my lap at least four times until I've finally had enough of his prying eyes devouring me.

We eat our appetizers and he still doesn't say a word. Just keeps staring at me with those cool eyes while he devours his food like a wolf.

"Okay, what's your deal?" I finally ask, putting down my fork and glaring at my date over the table. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Like what?" He takes a sip of wine, never taking his eyes off me.

"Like you're... ugh, forget it." I stab at my salad and keep glaring at him. "It's unnerving. Do you do this to everyone?"

"No," he replies easily. "Just to people who hate it."

"Great." I eat a cherry tomato and shoot daggers at him with my eyes. "I guess I should be honored, then."

"Definitely."

I put my fork down and cross my arms. "I don't get you."

"Not many people do."

"It bothers me."

"Join the club." He winks at me and downs his glass of wine. "Enjoying the date, are you?"

"No," I hiss. "I don't get why we're even here. I don't get why you're acting so hot and cold. Why even go out with me if you're not interested?"

"Oh, I'm interested." He puts his cutlery down on the plate, never taking his eyes off mine as the waiter takes away our empty dishes. "I'm very interested, Georgina."

"Doesn't seem like it," I mutter. "Can you answer one question for me?"

"Depends what it is." His eyes get darker, filled with delicious intent, but it only makes me more upset. I want to know more about him, but I'm getting annoyed by his attitude.

"Why are you with me?" I demand, ready to wrap this night and go back to my safety.

9

JASPER

Why are you with me?

Her question floats around us like a promise, unhinged and out of control.

My little Petal has a problem in keeping things in her thoughts. She’s been restless the entire night, stopping herself time and again from asking me that question.

She doesn’t believe I would be interested in her, or perhaps she doesn’t believe this entire situation. She couldn’t have suspected me, considering she was never aware of me following her about.

For that exact same reason, she needs to stay in the dark. I’m not done with her yet. My little Petal has a lot to learn before she can demand things from me.

A movie and dinner were Dinah’s idea, and as boring as that sounded, I complied for no other reason than to catch my little Petal unguarded. It was a setting she’s familiar with and therefore, she ought to have felt more in control.

What a big fucking mistake that was.

After all, it’s a fake type of control. And while the whole setting was a means to an end, I enjoyed how she shrank to my side during the movie, her body trembling with fear.

One day, I’ll teach her that real people are scarier than horror movies.

It’s curious how she chose that particular genre, even though she’s scared of them. Yet another one of my little Petal’s special traits.

“Why am I with you?” I repeat as I cut into my steak.

“You know what I mean,” she watches her surroundings.

“I don’t know, actually. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“Jasper.”

The sound of my name on her lips is like a murder symphony. Hey, there’s such thing. Google it.

Her knuckles have turned white from how she grips the napkin tight. Her white skin appears even paler against the dark blue of her dress.

“Do you believe in fairy tales, Georgina?” I ask, her name wrong on my lips. She should be Petal —or Pet, I’m not picky.

However, I’m not ready to trigger her alarms yet.

Her brows furrow at the sudden question, but she quickly recovers. “Don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not, answer my question and I’ll answer yours.”

“I... I don’t.”

Hmm. There’s hesitation in there. Interesting.

“Are you sure?” My fork clinks against the plate as I put it down. “Because if you lie, I’ll be compelled to lie, too.”

“I don’t.” She shakes her head. “At least not in the conventional term.”

“Conventional term, how?”

“I’m not waiting for prince charming or for someone to save me from my life. I can take care of it on my own.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

She lifts her head then quickly lowers it. Good girl. “What makes you think I’m waiting for something?”

“A hunch.”

“A hunch?”

“Is it correct?” I ask.

“No.” Another hesitation, but the time is far less than the previous one.

She’s learning, my little Petal. I’m starting to notice she’s good at hiding her emotions. The only reason she’s been slipping with me is because I’m an unfamiliar company and she can’t quite get a read on me yet. Once she does, she’ll go back to her pro-level fake smiles.

“Are you going to answer my question now?” She stares at me, standing her ground.

“Since you don’t believe in fairy tales, then this should be easy.” I thread my fingers on the table, slightly leaning over. “I have absolutely no interest in your person. All I want is to fuck you raw in all possible holes.”

Her eyes widen as if someone tipped a bucket of ice water over her head.

It’s a curious thing to see her all flustered and shocked —and perhaps offended. It would’ve been accepted if that was her entire reaction, but then something more interesting happens.

A spark shines underneath the surprise and offence, something too similar to... excitement? Curiosity?

My little Petal is attracted to me, it’s as clear as the full moon outside. The problem is, she doesn’t like to show her emotions. She’s the type who keeps it all tucked under the surface between her heart and ribcage.

Like a dog with a bone, I push for more. “Then, when you think it’s all over, I’ll own your body one more time —or a few, depending on how long I decide to stay.”

Her lower lip trembles as she bites down on it.

“What would it be, Georgina? Are you going to let me fuck you hard, fast and unhinged, or are you going to stand up and leave?”

It’s a risky gamble, but a necessary one. I need to know my little Petal’s actual core; If she’s the type who breaks or the type who fights.

I have no interest in the former, it gets too boring too soon and I have no time to waste on that.

If she does stand up and leave, my little Petal isn’t worth it after all. I probably won’t disappear from her life immediately, but I’ll have my way with her, then bury her six feet under to erase any witnesses.

That’s how it goes in my world. Leave witnesses behind and you’re dead.

If she stays, however—

Petal stands up, her cheeks flaming red as she clutches her purse.

“In case no one told you, you’re a jerk.”

“Compliment accepted.”

“Asshole.” She turns and starts toward the door.

Shame.

I thought my little Petal was more than that. As my eyes rake over the curves of her waist in that dress, my mind fills with my spare plan.

I can take her back to her apartment —scratch that, it’s not an option, I’ll follow her. Watch her undress and talk to those cats.

Then what? Break in, done. Watch her, done.

It’s time I moved on to the next step.

Petal stops, gripping her purse tight. “What are you waiting for?”

I raise an eyebrow but say nothing. Is she expecting a farewell party?

She glances back at me, it’s quick and barely lasts a second. “You drove me here.”

“If I drive you back, I demand payment.”

I can hear her gulp, even though the restaurant is busy.

“I’ll wait for you in the parking lot.” And with that, she’s out.

I don’t count the bills as I put them on the table, grab my jacket and head outside.

My little Petal waits by the passenger door, fidgeting with her purse’s strap and something tells me it’s not because of the wind or the cold.

She’s nervous. Good. Nervousness will keep her in line.

My little Petal doesn’t take men home on her first date. She’s too safe for that. However, something is making her adventurous today. Something like me being honest about wanting to fuck her.

Poor girl. She has no idea about who she invited into her world, front door key and all that.

I don’t say a word as I climb into the car and I drive back to her apartment. Aside from asking her about directions I already know, silence occupies the car.

“I live around this area, too,” I say with mock surprise.

“You do?”

“Yes, what a coincidence.”

“Yeah, it is.” A smile breaks on her lips.

My little Petal doesn’t question coincidences. She should. All disasters start with a harmless coincidence.

We arrive at her apartment and her shoulders stiffen, like she’s thinking about changing her mind and asking me to leave.

The door opens as she inserts the key in her lock and she stops for a moment. The battle is visible through her rigid face and shifty eyes. When she finally meets my gaze, I expect her to tell me she changed her mind, but she whispers a simple, “Come in.”

She disappears inside and I follow her, through the front door —without breaking in.

No idea what people call this, but from my side, it’s progress.

The cats barge in front of us like starved little demons, mewing and demanding food or attention or whatever demons need.

The fat orange cat hisses at me. I wink at him behind Petal’s back.

“Mr. Bingley. Stop it.” She gives me an awkward smile. “He’s not usually this aggressive.”

We have history.

And what type of name is Mr. Bingley anyway? I can imagine an old fat British man with that name. Which would suit the cat, now that I think about it.

“Come here, Mrs. Hudson.” Petal’s tone changes to soft and pleading as she calls her other lazy cat.

I try to focus on the hideous name, but I fail. My cock gets rock fucking hard at that tone. She’s not speaking to me with it, but she will soon.

After she gives her cats food, they eat without paying her attention and she busies herself behind the counter.

She’s only in her blue dress and the medium heels. The line of her back from this angle is begging for my hands on her waist then her hips as I slam inside her wet cunt over and over again.

“I have tea and some snacks.” She fusses with something over her head. “What do you want to eat —”

Her voice dies when I grab her hand and spin her around so abruptly, she gasps. Her eyes widen with surprise, but her cheeks heat with unmistakable want. It’s so fervent, I can feel it on my tongue, rip it against my teeth, carve it with my knife.

“You,” I answer her question.

Her chest rises and falls so rapidly, her tits strain against the dress and in my face, begging for my hands on them.

Judging by the small peak in the fabric, I'd guess she's not wearing a bra.

One way to find out.

I grab her dress’s straps and rip it off her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to her waist.

Her bare tits bounce gently, they’re bigger than I saw from the window the other day, firmer, too.

Her squeal matches the sound of the tearing clothes before she crosses her arms over her nipples like some lingerie model.

“Drop your arms.”

“W-what?” Her face has turned a deep shade of red.

I push back and stare down at her. “You heard me. Drop your arms.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” Her voice is barely a whisper, the defiance almost non-existent.

She wants this, she just doesn’t know how to surrender to it.

“It was good knowing you, Georgina.” I spin around.

“W-wait.”

I stop but I don’t face her.

“You’re leaving? Just like that?”

“Just like that. Unless…” I whirl around and find her in the same position, her chest rising and falling harder, faster, almost out of control.

“Unless what?” she murmurs.

“You do as you’re told and I don’t only mean dropping your arms. When I order something, I expect you to obey with zero fucking questions. I have no tolerance for disobedience. This the last time I repeat it, so listen carefully." My voice lowers. "Drop those fucking arms.”

It takes her a full second, but she slowly lets her arms fall on either side of her, baring her tits for me again.

Good girl, my little Petal.

Her pink nipples pucker as I stalk toward her, and she tries to keep a straight face, but the fidgeting and the crimson cheeks give her away.

Such a breakable thing, my pet.

I tower over her, my fingers slowly circling the hard nipples, turning them into tight buds. Her eyes flutter as if to close while her body melts against mine.

“Does this turn you on?”

“W-what?”

“Being told what to do by me.”

She bites the inner of her cheek but says nothing which is all the answer I need.

“How about this?” I pinch her nipple harder, eliciting a whimper from her pink lips.

“Do you like being hurt, my pet?”

Her eyes widen as she stares up at me. I don’t know if it’s because of the name or the question, or both.

I thought it would’ve been unlikely, but from the guilt in that cloudy gaze, she thought about it and she likes it more than she wants to admit.

Fuck me.

I knew my little Petal has more hidden underneath the normal life she leads so well.

Still pinching her nipple, I tug on it with the intention to hurt. She cries out but doesn’t push away. She doesn’t even lift her hands to protest.

Another answer she gives without speaking.

I reach my free hand and grip her jaw tight, forcing her to stare up at me. “What should I hurt you with first, Pet? My fingers, my teeth, or should we start with my cock down that pretty throat?”

Her breathing turns shallow with every word I say. Her nipples turn harder like tiny diamonds. I’m tempted to bite them into my mouth and feast on them until I taste blood.

The same with her parted lips. Only I don’t usually do kissing —or stalking for that matter, but different time, eh?

“Answer me.” I shake her jaw.

She opens her mouth, but no words come out.

“If I make the choice, there will be a payment.”

“I—”

Her words die when something vibrates between us.

My phone.

Fuck.

I’m tempted to ignore it, but there’s only one person who calls me this late —or any time for that matter, and he doesn’t like being ignored.

My cock is about to go on riot as I make the decision.

My little Petal’s face whitens when I push away from her.

“I have to go.” I turn around and stride to the door.

“You’re going?” Her voice is disbelieving instead of angry.

I throw one last glance at her. “Think on that answer.”

And then I’m out of her apartment. I take a long breath as I answer the phone on my way down her building’s ugly stairs.

“What’s your progress?” Lucio’s voice never made me so fucking pissed off as I am right now.

“On it.”

“On it, how?”

“Since when do you question my work, Lucio? Do we have a problem here?”

“I need that boy dead,” he emphasizes every word. “Consider it the highlight of your career.”

“Done.”

“It’s not done until I have the fucker’s head.” He hangs up and I grip the phone tighter as I head outside.

A part of me wants to go back to my little Petal and finish what I started.

Have her on her knees and shove my cock inside her mouth then in her pussy.

She needs encouragement, but she’ll let me. She’ll fucking enjoy it, too.

But priorities, one of them being Costa’s heirloom.

I call Giovani, the eighty-year-old gardener. “Pronto.”

I switch to Italian. “This is Jasper. I wanted to ask about Salvatore or Saviano or whatever the fuck his name is. Where was the last time you saw him?”

He coughs, and I wait patiently for the fit to disappear. “At the house.”

“Another place that isn’t Costa’s.”

“I don’t remember.”

“You have a beautiful granddaughter, Giovani, a lawyer, correct?”

“You promised.”

“I did, but only if you tell me what I want. If you don’t, I’ll have to tell Costa and he’ll have Stephan and Marco rape her in front of you as you bleed to near death from torture. Just because you left this life doesn’t mean it won’t follow you, Gio. Costa will always be able to track you down and every last one of your bloodline. Don’t give him the reason to.”

He curses me in Italian, and I wait until his fit of coughing subsides. Giovani has been with us long enough to know how the game goes. You don’t hide information from Costa and expect to live happily ever after.

They only had one rival once upon a time, the Vitallios, but even those have been wiped off the face of the earth decades ago. Whatever is left of their men have retreated to Sicily like rats.

“Vita Boarding School. Ask about Sarah Lisette.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at the phone, as the name of the school whirls in my head.

Vita Boarding School.

The school I was raised in until Costa got me out of it.

10

GEORGINA

I can't believe that bastard Jasper just left me like this.

I'm still fuming an hour later, lying on the sofa and channel hopping, unable to focus on any of the shows or films playing on the TV. My cats are curled up next to me, and I absentmindedly stroke their silky fur, my thoughts revolving around one person and one person only.

Jasper.

I hate how he left, and I hate how he's made me feel. My pussy is fucking leaking, alerting me of every second that passes painfully slowly without him.

"Where the hell did you come from, Jasper," I mutter under my breath as I turn off the TV and pull my laptop out from under the cushions of the couch. "And what the fuck are you doing to me?"

I open my laptop and blush lightly at the last open window. A fantasy blares out on the screen in glorious, graphic detail, and I hesitantly reach for my headphones, then push them against my ears. In a split second, my head fills with a woman's moans, and I watch in fascination as she gets hurt on the screen before me.

My fetish. My dirty little secret. What nobody knows about me.

All those secrets race through my mind as I keep watching the scene unfold on the laptop screen, my fingers rushing between my legs, pushing my panties to the side and eagerly massaging my wet slit. I'm thinking of Jasper, and not even trying to fight it. He's turned me on so much, turned me into a needy puddle of frustration hidden behind the veil of being strong, independent. I wonder what he would have done if he'd known how eager I was, how much I was hoping for him to take me anyway.

I've had to build a thick skin to get through life. There's no room for me to be vulnerable. That's why I've put up wall upon wall – to protect myself. But with Jasper, I want to let all those walls come tumbling down. Hell, I want him to break them down, enter my life with force and stay there by power of sheer will. I want him to bury himself in my life and never leave. There's a connection there and I refuse to believe I'm the only one to feel it.

The woman on screen is being held down by a man, tied with one limb to each of the bed posts, and with the guy's hand on her throat. She whimpers and cries as he forces orgasm after orgasm out of her, and I let out the loudest moan as I watch. Nervously, I glance at the wall I share with my neighbor. Fuck, I hope she can't hear me.

I keep watching, keep working my pussy, eager movements driving me closer and closer to an orgasm I know I shouldn't have. On an impulse, I reach out to the coffee table next to my desk and open its drawer. With shaky fingers, I search for my favorite toy, but it's not there.

I push the laptop away and take another look in the drawer, but there's nothing. This is so freaking weird. Why do I keep forgetting where I've put my stuff?

Not wanting to waste precious time looking for the toy, I use my fingers instead. The woman on my laptop is being ball-gagged now, and the man is fucking her. I'm so close I can feel my release on the tip of my tongue. So close, but never quite there.

Right then, there's a knock on my front door.

The cats race to the entrance, and I curse softly under my breath, closing my laptop. I rush to the sink to wash my hands, but the knock comes again, louder and more insistent this time.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What if it’s my neighbor? The old lady always complains about how loud the cats are.

In a panic, I suck my fingers clean instead and open the door in nothing but my cat pajamas and my soaked wet panties.

"Nice outfit." Jasper’s lips tilt in a smirk as he gives me a onceover before stepping inside my apartment.

I step aside because I don't expect it, and he strolls in like he owns the place.

"Um, excuse me?" I hiss and cross my arms. "You can't just walk in here after ditching me earlier."

"I think I just did." He grabs an apple from my fruit bowl, tossing it in the air and catching it as he stares at me. "Don't tell me you didn't want me to come back here for you, Petal."

"That's a door you closed by leaving the first time. Literally." I motion to the exit. "And you're going to do it again, right now."

"I'm not leaving."

He takes a few bites of the apple and we stare at one another. He's fucking taunting me, and I don't know whether I love it or hate it. Finally, Jasper finishes his apple and tosses it in my bin before walking up to me. He lets out a breath, pushing my hair off my shoulder to reveal my collarbone. I exhale as he dips a finger in the hollow of my throat, continuing his journey from my neck to my shoulders.

"You love it when I touch you, admit it already."

"I..." I want to defy him, but I'm powerless to his touch. Only when he lifts his fingers am I capable of uttering, "I think you should get going, Jasper."

"Why, of course." He smirks again, as if he knows exactly what he's doing to me. "You really want me to leave, I'll go."

"I do," I grit out.

"Too bad I don't believe you." He places his palms on the wall either side of me, effectively caging me beneath his strong, muscular body. "I think I have a better way to prove it."

"What's that?" My gaze fills with fear. "Jasper, don't..."

"Don't what?" I don't answer, but my eyes stayed glued to his, silently begging. "I'm just going to check how wet you are between your legs. I just want to see if you want this or not. That's okay, right? You want me to do it, don't you?"

His tone is so delicious, it makes me flush. He's dangerous. There's something off about the man, and though I can't quite put my finger on it, I know he could really, really hurt me.

"I..." I say again, but this time my voice trails off into nothing.

"You don't have to say it," he mutters. "I know how hard it is to think with that pretty little head when you're this fucking horny, Petal."

I don't have time to question his strange nickname, because he flattens my body against the wall. One of his hands goes to my throat, just like in the video I was watching before. The other pulls on my pajama bottoms and my panties, and he looks down inside them with his lips inches away from mine.

"Have you been touching yourself?" His words make me flush, heat spreading from my cheeks down over my neck.

I shake my head, shooting daggers at him yet still unable to utter a single word.

"Don't lie to me. That pussy didn't get so wet all by itself..."  He snatches my hand in his grip, lifting it to his lips. "I can smell your cunt on your fingers, Georgina."

"Please don’t say that." He's pushed me too far, crushing any of my limits. I wrestle from under him and point to the door with a shaky finger. "Leave. Now."

Mr. Bingley sneaks up to us, cuddling against Jasper's legs and making me look decidedly uncool in front of my failed date.

"He doesn't want me to go," Jasper mutters, then, without warning, sucks one of my fingers into his mouth. He stares right into my eyes as he licks along my fingers, sucking the tips until I have to forcibly hold my moans. My free hand’s nails dig into the flesh of my palm, and I bite my tongue so I don't make a single noise. I can't let him see what he's doing to me. I already know he'll use it to his advantage.

"I'm going to fill you up with my cum tonight," Jasper whispers in my ear and I do my best to resist the rush of adrenaline coursing through my body. "And you're going to fucking love it. You're going to beg me to do it again and again, aren't you?"

"You’re crazy." I struggle against him. He doesn't make a single move to stop me from escaping, but his muscular body is like a slab of marble. There's nowhere for me to run. So, I stay caged there, glaring at him, hoping he'll leave and fuck me at the same time.

"Why are you so fucking stubborn, Pet?" The new nickname he has for me makes my heart race. Not that I'd ever tell him that. After all, I have my reputation to protect. "You really don't want to admit it? That your cunt aches for me? That your body yearns for me? That your mind is just fucking begging to be broken in?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about." I cross my arms in front of my body, elbowing him out of the way. He takes a step back and I regret it instantly. "I want you to leave now. You've outstayed your welcome, Jasper."

"Okay then, I'll go."

Well, fuck.

I bite my lower lip in frustration and Jasper watches me with a cocky smile playing on his lips. He knows exactly what he's doing to me.

Staring at him, I watch as he slowly turns away, his hand reaching for the doorknob. A playful, almost boyish smirk plays on his lips. "Have a great life, Georgie."

I don't want him to go.

I really, really don't want him to fucking go, and it's taking everything I have in me not to call out after him and beg him to stay. I don't know what kind of game he's playing, but it's fucking with my head.

His hand lingers on the knob before slowly moving down and turning the key in the lock. With ease, he slips the key out of the lock and puts it in his pocket. "Just kidding, Pet. I'm not going anywhere. And you're going to strip for me, right now."

I blush furiously, the thought of getting out of these cat-printed pajamas right in front of him is such a turn on. I want him to look at me. I want him to see every inch of my bare skin, and then feel it, run his fingertips all over me and fuck me with them like he owns me. Like I'm nothing but property. His property.

I'm on the verge of begging before I remember his task. Slowly, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my pajamas, then pull them down in one motion, before I can change my mind.

Jasper's gaze darkens as he stares down between my legs. I'm wearing a gray pair of cotton panties, and embarrassingly, there's a huge wet spot on the front. Jasper doesn't comment on it and silently motions for me to keep going.

I take my top off next, peeling the spaghetti straps off my shoulders and making him groan in frustration. I smile, happy knowing I have an effect on him, too.

I remove my top, slowly, allowing my tits to bounce free. Jasper is watching me with unadulterated lust, but there's something else in his eyes – something similar to hatred. Raw, vicious, hate.

"Pinch your nipples," he demands. "Other hand between your legs. Rub my pussy."

That little pronoun sends my heart racing and my hands move of their own accord, one cupping my soaked pussy and the other trapping a nipple in its firm grip, squeezing hard. My lips open in a soft o-shape and Jasper just watches, like he always does.

"Are you just going to stand there?" I hiss. "What are you, some kind of voyeur?"

"You're quite the exhibitionist yourself." His voice is rough, dark and sexy, and it's making me melt. "I think I'm fine where I am. Keep touching. Rubbing. Dripping."

I do as he says, pinching my nipple so hard it makes me leak even more. "Jasper. Give me what I want."

"And what is it that you want, Pet?"

I hesitate, biting my lower lip, but I can't keep it to myself any longer. "I want you to come over here and fuck me over this counter, Jasper."

He toys with the key in his pocket. "I'm only going to ask you for consent once. Do you understand that?"

Every heartbeat feels like an era. "Yes, I understand."

He withdraws his hand from his pocket, taking a slow step toward me, reaches out to cup my face with his palm, so gentle it shocks me into submission. But soon enough, his hand moves down my throat, capturing my neck beneath strong, long fingers. "That was a mistake, Pet. You're going to regret it."

He picks me up by my throat. My legs kick into thin air, but the moment's over a second later once he places me butt-down on the kitchen counter. I'm already panicking, my body shooting bursts of adrenaline through my system. All my instincts slam into me again, reminding me with each second that I need to get away.

Run.

Run.

Run.

"Make me regret it, then." The words leave my lips before I can stop myself, and I look anywhere but at Jasper, afraid of his reaction. My mouth won't shut up though, and I keep talking. "Please, Jasper. I want to regret it."

He kisses me then. Long, hard, almost violent in his desire to bruise my lips with his markings. My body instantly melts against his, but he holds me in place, making sure I don't fall. His lips devour me. He sucks on my bottom lip, nibbling, digging his teeth into it. He's gentle at first, but soon enough, his motions become more frantic. He starts tugging at my panties, and I let him. Soft gasps leave my mouth as he assaults my mouth with his tongue.

Finally, he pulls the panties down and tugs them from my feet, and my thighs open for him. Jasper's hand is on my pussy and I'm mentally screaming about the thought of leaving wet traces on his strong fingers. He doesn't let go. Instead, he chuckles, a low, throaty sound as I begin to drip all over him. I shut my eyes tightly, but he won't stop. He touches everything, everywhere. From my pussy, to my nipples, to my shoulder blades. He feels me up like I'm a cheap whore, but he makes me feel like a princess. A spoiled princess whose every thought revolves around the reward she wants.

My eyes go to his crotch and he grabs himself through his jeans, smirking at me. "Want it, Pet?"

I nod wordlessly, swallowing.

“Say it in words.”

"I want it."

He forces me to lie down on the counter and walks around it. I'm on my back, my head hanging off the marble, and he grabs my neck from behind, holding me up as he pulls his cock free of his pants.

He’s fucking huge. There's a big, angry vein throbbing along his length, and drops of pre-cum glisten on his tip like pearls. I lick my lips, my eyes going to his, silently begging for more.

Slowly, he pushes his cockhead into my mouth. I choke on it and he lets up, but the moment I take a deep breath, he's pushing into me again. My mouth waters, filling with saliva as he begins to move his hips back and forth, his thick cock sliding in and out of my mouth.

I want him.

I watch him bite his lip, tilt his chin up as I start to lick and suck on his cock, his balls.

I need him.

"Just like that, Petal. Get it nice and fucking wet so I can put it in your pussy."

A moan leaves my lips and he grabs me ever more firmly then, holding me in place and filling me up to the very brim. I gargle on my own spit and his pre-cum, but he won't let up. He just pleasures himself with my throat like he owns it. Like it's his own personal toy.

And then he pulls out with a pop. I cry out at the loss, but he doesn't make me wait for long. He rounds the counter again, and this time, there's nothing patient about him.

Jasper holds my shivering thighs open, his palms on either side of my legs as he leans in and takes a long, painfully slow lick of my pussy.

"Jesus fuck, Pet, you taste so damn good. I could drink you all night long."

His stubble scratches my thighs and I moan out loud as he continues his delicious assaults. Long, forbidden licks of my pussy send me into a frenzy, and I tangle my fingers in Jasper's hair. I've done this with a few guys, but I never liked it. This, with him... it's something else. He's fucking enjoying it. Maybe even more than I am.

I let out another cry as his lips wrap around my clit, sucking, biting down. My teeth grit together. I want him so much it hurts.

He brings me impossibly close to an orgasm, so close I'm gasping, muttering his name over and over again. And when I'm right at the brink, hanging above the precipice, he pulls me up. Jasper moves back and I groan in frustration, but then I feel him spit on me and he takes his cock in his hand, jerking it with fast, needy motions.

"It's going inside you now," he mutters, and I cry out as he shunts me towards him and positions his tip right at my entrance. With a single thrust of his hips, he enters me, penetrating any walls I'd put up between us.

The realization of it hits me in after waves of shock, and Jasper grins down at me. "I know you love this. I know you love being fucked like this, the way you deserve. Such a good girl for me, aren't you?"

It takes me a moment to figure out the soft little sobs I hear are coming from me as his cock pushes deep. I'm so close to an orgasm, but I don't want my eyes to roll back and lose this vital connection I have with him.

"You know what I want, Pet?" He leans down, nuzzling my neck and biting my right earlobe. "I want you to come on my cock. I want to know what you feel like when you do."

One more sob and I'm right there. As moans rip themselves from my lips, Jasper grabs me by the wrists and holds me down. I shake my head, crying, pleading, and then, suddenly I’m coming on him with such force I groan gutturally. Jasper smothers my mouth with a kiss and my sounds turn needier, softer as he keeps driving inside me with every thrust.

"You want me to come inside you?" His voice is like the devil on my shoulder. "Right here in your juicy cunt? Without a condom, without anything between us?"

"Fuck you," I manage to get out.

"Fuck me? How disappointing." He chuckles as he drives deeper into my pussy. "I could stop..."

"No!" I cry out. "Don't stop, please..."

He grabs me by the throat with gentle but strong fingers. "Beg me to fuck my cum into you, Pet."

"P-P-Please." I'm stuttering and blushing at my own inability to talk. "Please, Jasper... Please fuck me. I want to be full, put it all inside me."

He grunts, moving his hand up my neck and to my cheeks and holds me tight, making my lips pucker. His brows knit together in anger as he fucks me and I come again, in time for his orgasm. When I feel his cock spurting its seed inside me, my body reacts wildly. I thrash under him, and he holds me down, driving into me one last time. I feel wetness dripping down between us, and Jasper reaches down between my legs and scoop up our mixed juices.

He massages our cum into my pussy, focusing on my clit and making me mewl out in pleasure. "You did so well, Pet. What a good girl."

He stares at me, seeming drunk on a feeling, a state of mind. With fascination, he watches his own fingers spreading our wetness all over my skin. As if subconsciously, his hand massages more into my belly, his eyes losing focus as he stares at me.

A moment later, he snaps out of it. It’s almost as if I imagined the whole thing. As if this is a dream and I’m waking up from it.

"You’re a good pet." Jasper gets up, his hands leaving me. "I'll get going now.”

"What?" I ask, pulling myself up on my elbows. "You're leaving?"

He turns around, looks at me, then sighs deeply. In two steps he's back at the counter, and with one hard smack, he hits my pussy.

"What are you doing?!" I scream, fighting the tingles of pleasure erupting on my sensitive skin.

"Behave," he reminds me like I'm some bratty kid. "I'll be back for more, Pet.”

11

JASPER

People don’t know what they’re talking about when they say they’re obsessed.

For them, liking something a lot or being overly interested in something is equivalent to obsession.

It’s not.

You never really know you’re obsessed until you lose all common sense and control.

The moment you’re consumed and find yourself doing things in a compulsive, sporadic way, that’s when it becomes an obsession —raw and ugly in its truest form.

As I stand by the old Honda in the silence of the evening, I roll back to the events that led me here.

What made me obsessed? Sure, it started with that fake fucking smile, but that’s not all, is it?

Was it when I followed her the first day? When I kicked the boy out of the apartment to keep it to myself? When I watched her naked the first time? When I witnessed her have dinner with another man and decided that wouldn’t fucking happen again?

Or it could be when I broke in, went through her things, and decided there’s more to learn.

Or it could be because of how she submitted to me when I fucked her three ways to Sunday yesterday. The way her body moulded to mine like she always belonged there, and she always will.

If there was a tiny chance, I’d kick her out of my system and put a stop to whatever the fuck this is, but any chance of that evaporated the moment I sunk inside her and she made those small satisfied noises, like she’s been waiting her entire fucking life for me.

Now that I’ve had a taste, there’s no way I’ll stop. I can but that will only happen under two scenarios; One, a knife to my little Petal’s throat, making her unavailable. Two, continuing to fuck her until I get bored.

I can’t quite bring myself to do the first option, even though it’s out of character for me.

For the first time in my life, I’m going with option two. In my quest to erase any habits that could cripple me, I never fucked the same woman more than once.

The thought of never touching my little Petal again is fucking tragic. I don’t even want to consider it.

She comes out of the staff exit, wrapping a coat around her slender waist. Her strides cut through the distance in record time, her tiny frame barely noticeable.

It’s a curious thing how an invisible person was able to catch my attention in such a morbid way.

As I watch her approaching me, I’m cut with two different emotions. The first, I fucking hate her for bringing chaos into my ordered life. The second, I want to fuck that hate out of her body, use her and fill her every hole with my cum.

My little Petal stops abruptly in front of me, finally having noticed me. Her expression morphs to slight surprise before she masks it.

Considering the way things ended yesterday, I didn’t expect a warm welcome. I left her pleased and used with my cum dripping down her thighs. I needed the distance because I was tempted to kiss the fuck out of her and run her a bath. Go fucking figure.

I don’t ever do that.

The thought of wanting to do it for my little Petal was enough to get me out of her apartment without her having to say anything.

“You actually know how to show up.”

I take the jab of her words with a nod. She has the right to be mad and kick me out of her life, if she wants to.

Doesn’t mean I’ll go, though.

That’s not how it works with me.

“I’ll drive you.” I point at my Mercedes across the parking lot.

“I have my own car.” She keeps her expression closed off as she tries to push me off her car.

I remain planted in front of the driver’s door, not moving an inch. My little Petal must’ve realized she can’t move me and backs off, face reddening with exertion.

She wraps her coat around her frame, using it as a shield. “Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do, actually. I said I’ll drive you.”

Her furious metal gaze snaps my way. “You don’t get to demand things from me after you left me that way yesterday. I’m not your toy.”

“No.” I reach out and grab her by the chin. “You’re my pet.”

Her lips quiver as I tighten my hold around her, forcing her to stare up at me with wild petrified eyes. I can feel the rush of fear snaking down her body, but at the same time, her eyes shine with the potency of the thrill.

It’s almost the same look she gave me when I thrust into her tight cunt and owned her for the first time. Fear and excitement are the most exquisite look on her.

“Let me go,” she tries to shift sideways, probably searching for someone.

“Do you think anyone can save you from me, Pet?”

“S-Someone will see.”

“See what?”

She averts her gaze. “You know.”

I shake her by the chin, forcing her to meet my gaze again. “Know what?”

“Jasper…”

“What?”

“We’re in public.”

“And that’s important because?”

“I…” She gulps, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson.

“You what? Don’t want your little friends to know you’re getting fucked by me? Is that it, Georgina?”

She glares at me. There’s something I noticed; my little Petal gets upset when I call her by her full name. In such a short time, she has grown to like Pet a lot more than she’ll ever admit.

She pushes at my chest with her tiny hands —or tries to anyway, considering I don’t move an inch. “Says the one who walked out on me.”

“Won’t happen again.”

“How do I know that?”

“Get your ass in the car and I’ll prove it in creative ways.”

She swallows, her throat working with the up and down of the movement and then, slowly, too slowly, her thick lashes flutter against her eyes and she nods.

“Good girl.”

I feel the change in her body before I see it. Her entire being softens at my words, and her body temperature rises.

“Are you turned on, my pet?”

“What? No!” Too loud, too defensive.

I release her jaw and snake my hand down her stomach. “Maybe I should find out myself.”

She pushes away from me and half-jogs toward my car. A soft chuckle leaves my lips as I follow her.

As soon as we hit the road, my little Petal’s curious gaze rakes over me. I pretend I don’t notice, keeping my entire focus on the road, but I can feel her eyes surrounding me like smoke, trying to weed me out.

Petal isn’t the curious type. I’ve seen how she always keeps out of any drama or connection and tries to go through her day just so she can go back to the fat, lazy cats.

Unless there’s a cat in the equation, my little Petal always keeps out of any interaction.

The fact that she’s interested in me should be bothersome, but a smirk tilts my lips anyway.

This has turned a lot more interesting than I originally planned.

“Why are you smiling?” she asks.

Smirking, but semantics. “I just thought of something.”

“What?”

“You under me as I fuck you until you pass out, Pet.”

The sound of her gulp fills the car along with something else; her arousal. I can feel it without even inhaling deep.

“Is that all you think about when it comes to me?” she asks.

“Of course not. I also keep thinking about the ways I’ll fill your every hole with my cum.”

“Point made.” Her voice drops, she’s trying to sound upset, but she can’t control the tremor at the end.

She wants this as much as me, she just doesn’t want to admit it.

We’ll change that with time.

“Dinah says hi.” She pushes her hair back and subtly changes the subject. “She kind of likes you. Like a little.”

I raise an eyebrow, glancing at her. “Kind of? A little?”

“Fine, a lot. You’re such an arrogant asshole, do you know that?”

“I love the sound of compliments from those lips, Pet.”

“Whatever. What have you done to my friend that she’s so under your spell?”

“Why don’t you ask her?”

“Well, I’m asking you.”

“I was just being my charming self.”

“Yeah, right.” She fingers the strap of her bag. “Would you have been interested in me if Dinah didn’t introduce us?”

Hmm. She’s being self-conscious, which doesn’t suit her. Sure, I can make her feel better, but that will put my position in jeopardy.

I pretend to think about it. “Probably not.”

“That was... too direct.”

“Do you want me to lie to you?”

“Of course not.” She stares through the window at the lit-up buildings blurring past us.

“But I would’ve eventually found you,” I say, for no reason than to wipe that pout off her face.

My little Petal looks her best when she’s weak and at my mercy, but I realize with a tinge of annoyance that I dislike seeing her hurt.

Not by me, and not by anyone else.

She slowly turns around and manages to hide some of the hope shining in her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“It means, finding you was a fact, not an option.”

“You’re so weird, Jasper.”

“Weird how?”

“Sometimes, I feel like you care, and others, it’s just like you’re stone cold. Which one is real?”

The stone-cold part, or rather the calculative, no-nonsense one. I didn’t even know I had the other part until my little Petal barged into my life and refused to leave.

When I say nothing, she continues, “And I find myself curious about you. Why don’t you tell me anything about yourself?”

“I thought Dinah told you how old I am and where I work.”

“That’s not what I’m interested in. How did you grow up? What’s your favorite color? Book? Movie? Band?”

“I grew up alone and I have no favorites in anything.”

“Everyone does.”

“What are yours?”

Her favorite color is blue and she likes a lot of fantasy authors. Her favorite movie is this creepy French horror shit and she listens to the same The Verve song every day.

I remain silent as she recite them anyway, because well, that’s what’s considered normal. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate me enumerating them for her.

Or maybe she would.

Once finished, she faces me. “Is there anything you like to do aside from work?”

You. But I don’t say that, it’s still too soon to unleash the extent of my madness on her. “Jogging.”

“What else?”

Killing, carving up traitors’ faces. But then again, she doesn’t need to know that.

“Nothing.” I take the turn toward her apartment. “Tell me about you. How did you grow up?”

“From one foster home to the other.” She says the words with strange calm as if she doesn’t feel them. Interesting. It’s almost as if she numbed herself to that part of her life.

“How about your parents?”

A sheen of sadness covers her features. “They died when I was young... an accident.”

I glance at her then focus back on the road. She hesitated at the end, which means she was either lying or lacked the confidence to say the words.

Interesting.

Maybe her family history has something to do with why she keeps drawing me in.

I tuck away that information for later as we stop in front of her building.

I feel the presence before I catch a glimpse of the car parked right in front of my building.

Fuck. I should’ve known Lucio would show his face at my house sooner or later. I never tell him where I live, but he finds me anyway —more proof that the city is under his command. There’s no rat Lucio Costa can’t find on his turf.

He stands in front of the car with Marco, their gazes are focused on my building as if contemplating if they should go inside or burn the thing to weed me out.

I turn to tell my little Petal to stay in the car, but she’s already out.

Fuck.

The last thing I want is for her to meet Lucio. It wouldn’t have mattered if it were any other woman, but with her, it does.

The moment Marco’s eyes fall on her, I itch to fetch my knife and jam it straight into his fucking neck.

My little Petal is oblivious to the attention she’s getting from Lucio’s second in command as she strides to her building.

When noticing I’m not following behind, she stops and turns around. Her gaze doesn’t linger on me though. The moment she sees Lucio, her entire body turns rigid like a board.

Her fingers shake on the strap of her purse and her face pales to an alarming level with every passing second.

Lucio watches her with a disinterest that doesn’t match the lust on his henchman’s face.

That’s when I follow her field of vision. She’s not watching Lucio, she’s focused on his hand, on the tattoo tendrils escaping from underneath his shirt sleeves and the spider head at the back of his hands.

Her breaths turn shallow and she looks on the verge of fainting, just like the other time when she saw the spider in her house.

I stop myself from running to her and steadying her. If I show any ounce of interest, Lucio and Marco will find ways to use her against me.

I’m the one who exploits weaknesses, not the other way around.

My little Petal gulps before she turns around and steps towards her building with unsteady shaky legs. She remains at the front, waiting for me without a word.

Good girl.

I stride to Lucio and Marco, placing both hands in my pockets. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“We have a meeting.” Lucio motions at the car. “Get inside.”

“I have a boarding school to visit,” I say. “About that Costa heir you love so much.”

“He’s not an heir,” Lucio snarls in my face.

Like an obedient dog, Marco closes in on me, reaching for his gun under his jacket. Fucking asshole would love to put a bullet in my head.

“Not an heir,” I say in a bored voice. “Still, I have to go to that boarding school.”

My boarding school.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the Costa heir and I went to the same school.

If Giovani is screwing with me, he’ll have his life as collateral.

“Then you’ll attend the meeting and then go to that boarding school.” Lucio glares. “Any objections?”

Marco smirks, taunting me to go against his boss’s order.

I open the car door and slide inside, occupying Lucio’s usual seat.

The sooner we’re done, the faster I can go back to Petal who’s still standing in front of the building, watching with wild eyes.

No one gets to scare her under my watch.

No. Fucking. One.

Lucio included.

12

GEORGINA

Something about that man has awakened a fear inside me, and it's refusing to stop clenching my heart with its steely fingers. I wait in the shadow of my doorway after he gets in the car, nervously fidgeting.

A moment passes, but Jasper doesn’t come back. Instead, the car rolls in the streets and away. A hot, fiery sensation bubbles in my veins.

Enough.

I won’t be blindsided, worrying, and thinking about what the hell is happening whenever I’m with him.

My nails dig into the flesh of my palms as I stride inside.

A cool shiver runs down my spine and I force myself to unlock the door of my building and head inside. My eyebrows knit together in worry as I take the stairs, playing with the hem of my jacket. There was something really off about the guy. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Or maybe it’s his spider tattoo.

In the apartment, I do my well-practiced routine – feed the cats, change their water, and clean the litter box. After I'm done, I pour myself a glass of cheap rosé and collapse on the couch with a heavy sigh. I turn on the TV, hoping it will disturb the eerie silence. But it's not totally silent... No, there's a faint thump of something, like wood against plastic.

I get up and follow the sound into my bedroom. My eyes widen when I see one of the windows is open, the corner of it hitting the windowpane repeatedly. I never leave my windows open when I leave for work. This isn't the best area to live in, and besides, I don't want the cats getting out while I'm gone. If I had left it open, I'd remember it – and I would have put the safety lock on. But there's nothing there now. The safety chain hangs uselessly by the window.

With a rush of fear spreading through my body, I close the window and lock it shut.

The whisper of the wind dies down, the thumping sound gone, but I still feel like I hear something. Perhaps it's just my own demons, lurking in the shadows of my mind and threatening to come back out the first chance I give them. But the warning is there – unspoken, but so very loud and clear in my mind.

Be careful.

Someone's watching you.

I SPEND the night tossing and turning, and wake up to a bleak, foggy and rainy day outside.

My last thought before I fell asleep was of Jasper.

My first thought when I wake up is of Jasper.

I'm so unbelievably fucked.

It's my day off, and I thought I'd be grateful for the reprieve, but I'm restless and bored the entire day. I flip through channels on the TV, go for a jog, play with the cats and start reading a few books, but I can't settle on anything. Around midday, I decide I can't possibly wait a second longer. I call Jasper's number, a smile on my lips as I wait for him to pick up.

He doesn't.

I end the call before his answering machine kicks in, my cheeks aflame with insecurity. Why didn't he pick up?

Forcing myself to think of anything else, I busy myself by cleaning the apartment until it shines. I don't want to, but I call Jasper again. This time, I listen to his answering machine, his lazy voice telling me to leave a message or fuck off. I pick the latter.

Finally, the evening rolls around and I'm sitting on my sofa in my cat-print PJs and soft fuzzy socks when the phone rings.

I nearly break a limb in my effort to grab it, but disappointment flashes across my face when I see it's just Dinah. "Hey, girl."

"Georgie!" She sounds excited, happy.

Why wouldn't she? I'm the miserable one waiting for a guy to return her calls.

"What's up? Are you off work today, too?"

"Yeah, I'm hanging out with some people from the hospital tonight. Got the kids’ dad to take them – I can’t even believe my luck! Anyway, one of them just asked me to invite you. Guess who?”

I groan but she ignores it, going on cheerfully.

"I told him you'd say no, but he insisted I invite you along. It’s Bill! And he looks so cute tonight.”

I don't care how cute he is. There's only one guy on my mind and cute is the last thing that can describe him.

But as I get through my second bag of gummy bears, I realize I need a distraction, so I pull my phone again and ask Dinah where they're heading. She rattles off the name and address of a popular club downtown – so not my thing, but it might make Jasper jealous, and the thought makes me inexplicably excited. I'd like to be the one to make his heart race. I want him to be possessive. I want him to get mad.

Dinah says they've got VIP tickets, and for me to give Bill’s last name at the door.

"Okay, I'll meet you there in an hour," I tell Dinah before I can change my mind. I end the call to the sound of her squealing, and it's hard for me to keep the smile off my face as I quickly get ready for my impromptu outing.

I pick out my tightest dress – a black silky number with long sleeves and a revealing neckline. Something comes over me as I stand in front of my lingerie drawer, and I shock myself by putting none on. It's daring, and going commando isn't exactly a habit of mine, but when I leave my ass and my tits bare, I feel oddly liberated.

I apply more makeup than usual and spray myself with my most expensive perfume before grabbing my jacket and giving the cats some treats before stepping out.

Despite checking my phone what feels like every minute, there's no call from Jasper. He doesn't care. The thought is now firmly lodged inside my brain, reminding me he doesn't give a shit what I'm up to or who I'm seeing. I grit my teeth together as I make my way down the block. I'll have fun and screw him.

The club is only three blocks away from my building, but I regret my decision to walk by the second one. My too-tall heels are rubbing against my soles and I'm already feeling a blister coming on. I get to the club, self-consciously wrapping my coat around my body as I feel the people standing in a line in front of the club glaring at me. Someone catcalls me, and a girl scoffs, but I ignore both and saunter right up to the entrance, where a velvet pink rope separates me from the club.

"Um, hi," I mutter, flashing a nervous smile at the enormous bouncer. "I'm with Kinsella?"

"The Kinsella party arrived twenty minutes ago," the bouncer says, smirking at me. "I welcomed them in myself and you were most definitely not with them."

I glare at him, shifting my weight from one foot to another. "Maybe you could just call one of them out? My friend, Dinah. She's very pretty. Big braided bun. Always wears pink lipstick. Remember her?"

I think the guy can tell I'm poking him, and he loses the smirk. "Sorry, Miss." He points to the end of the line. "You'll have to wait with the rest."

"Excuse me." We both look behind the bouncer, where a tall guy with slicked back black hair is grinning at me.

"Oh, Mr. Kinsella," the bouncer says sheepishly. "I'm so sorry about this commotion, I –"

"Hey, Georgie.”

"Hey, Bill," I manage. He looks so different than usual.

"She's with me." The guy removes the pink rope and motions me inside. I step forward while the rest of the line behind me groans.

I feel triumphant, shooting a look at the bouncer who steps aside to let me pass. The loud sounds and lights of the club barge in all at once.

"Thanks for sticking up for me," I tell Bill with a shy smile, keeping up with him.

"No problem, darling." He flashes me a crooked smile. He’s kind of handsome – Dinah was right.

I follow him inside the club where a group of people are waiting, my friend among them. I smile when I see her and she crashes into me, giving me a tight hug.

"So, was I right, or was I right?" she giggles. "Totally hot, isn't he?"

I shrug, but can't fight the grin off my face. "He's okay."

I catch Bill’s eye and he smirks at me. It reminds me of Jasper, and I fight the thought off. I can't think about Jasper right now. In fact, I shouldn't think about Jasper at all. He's ignored me all day long, and he doesn't deserve my attention.

There's a loud pop as Bill uncorks a bottle of champagne, and I join in the merriment with my own flute of bubbly. The booze feels light and wicked on my tongue, and I swallow it down along with the rest of my nerves. I'm going to have fun tonight. I'm not letting anyone take it away from me. I deserve to have a blast, Jasper be damned.

The group is lively and active, and we soon split up – half of the people hit the dancefloor, but I stick with the rest at the table. Dinah stays by my side, but I notice her staring longingly at the dancefloor, so I finally nudge her and point to the center of the room.

"You can go, you know. You don't have to sit by me all night."

"You sure?" She gives me a doubtful look. "You gonna be okay by yourself?"

"Of course," I wave my hand dismissively, even though I barely know anyone here. "Come on, I'm not a baby. Go on, have some fun. I'll be right here waiting."

She smiles and kisses my cheek, thanking me. I hate feeling like a burden to my friends. I wish it was different, but both Katya and Dinah have always been so protective of me.

Dinah heads off to the dancefloor and I laugh when she blows me kisses. Glancing around the table, I realize there are only a couple of us left, including Bill. I catch his eye, but I quickly divert my gaze. I don't want to look too interested, especially with everything that's happening with Jasper. It doesn't feel right.

Bill approaches me and tops up my glass. I thank him, toasting him with my flute and downing the drink in one go.

"You know, that's not how you're supposed to drink champagne," he teases me. "It'll go straight to your head."

"Maybe that's what I want." It could be a sexy little comment if I hadn't cringed halfway through. To be honest, I'm downing drinks because I want to forget that Jasper hasn't called me yet. It's easier to forget than worry about every reason under the sun as to why he hasn't called.

"You don’t come out often. How did Dinah manage to convince you tonight?” Bill asks, and I shrug, twirling the stem of my glass between my fingers. When I don’t answer, he goes on. “I’m glad you came out, anyway. I feel like we never get the chance to chat.”

“We can chat now.” I don’t really want to, but I can be nice. “Tell me something people don’t know about you, Bill.”

He rubs his head and laughs. “My mom was my best friend in the world.”

“Aw,” I grin. “Momma’s boy.”

"Not anymore," he goes on, glancing away to hide the pain in his dark eyes. "She died when I was thirteen. Cancer."

"I'm so sorry."

"Long time ago." His tone is dismissive, but I can tell he's still hurting from the pain in his features. "She had some wonderful nurses when she was in the hospice. To this day, I'm grateful to them for making her life easier. It’s why I chose to do this.”

"I'm glad she had the care she deserved," I say. Bill nods, and we sit in silence for an awkward pause. A moment later, we both speak at once, laughing nervously when we clash.

"Please," Bill smiles. "Go ahead. Ladies first."

"I was wondering how you got VIP passes here? It’s a pretty new club, and kind of exclusive from what I’ve heard."

"I invest," he says. "I inherited a good chunk of money from my mom. So, I've mostly been investing in small businesses around the city."

"Oh," I say lamely. I don't know anything about investing or business.

"Like this club." Bill grins. "You're looking at a proud co-owner of Club Four."

"Congratulations," I laugh. "It's a terrible name, by the way."

I instantly blush, hating myself for my honesty, but Bill doesn't seem fazed by it. In fact, he laughs in response. "I like it. You tell it like it is. I could use more people like you around me."

"Well, I'm here now." I smile and take another sip as he fills my glass.

"Indeed you are." Bill’s eyes sparkle. "Now I just need the chance to steal you away."

13

JASPER

Vita Boarding School is a dirty little place on the outskirts of Chicago. The thing hasn’t been renovated since the start of times.

I stride through the halls of the school, stifling the sound of small boys’ giggles, laughter, and cries —the loud type. No one hears the small ones weeping quietly in dark corners. No one asks about them when they miss a meal, or two, or eventually disappear.

This place is labelled as a boys’ school but is, in fact, the scum of scum. It’s more like a transition phase before the children either run away or get taken in the middle of the night without anyone hearing a sound.

The lucky ones go into foster homes or, better yet, get adopted. But are they lucky, really? I was in a foster home once, and let’s say it didn’t end well, for them and me and every last fucker who pretended to not have seen anything.

I don’t knock as I barge into the principal’s office, Richards. He’s still old and fat like a pig with blemished skin and half bald hair.

He’s speaking with his right hand, Nancy, still old, too, but more wrinkled and still wearing those ugly brown-framed glasses.

I’m tempted to shoot them both in the head, but I don’t have time for pesky cleaning right now.

Lucio is getting restless and if I don’t bring him anything soon, all hell will break loose.

While I usually don’t give a fuck about any hell, and would meet Lucio’s little gangbangers head on, the timing isn’t good.

Marco didn’t only see my little Petal, but he’s also showing a perverted interest in her. I’ve seen the way his knuckles tighten and his nostrils flare. It’s the body language he has before raping and maiming people. So, if I mess up in any way, Lucio won’t hesitate to unleash Marco on her and use her against me.

And while I can and would finish Marco, life will only turn for the worse if I become the Costas’ enemy.

I can always kill my little Petal and end my weakness with my own hands.

That idea keeps diminishing by the day, as if it were never there.

Nancy stands up abruptly, her eyes bulging open. Richards clears his throat and wipes sweat off his bald head.

They recognize me. Good.

Considering they deal a lot with underground fuckers, it makes sense they heard of the name before.

After all, Richards is the one who gave me the name after I arrived here with nothing.

I pull out a chair, but I don’t sit down, just shove both hands into my pockets. “Let’s keep this short. Odd twenty years ago, Paolo Costa or one of his men brought a child here. I need to know what happened to that boy and where I can find him.”

“We don’t know about no Costa.” Richards continues wiping his sweat like an overheated animal.

“Try again, and this is your last chance, by the way.” I retrieve my gun and point it at them. “How about you, Nance? Do you know anything aside from locking young boys in a cellar for a week?”

Nancy’s face whitens and even her lips lose color. “I-I…”

“That’s not an answer. Goodbye.”

“I-I know!” Richards raises both his hands as the stench of piss fills the air.

I tilt my head as a big stain wets the front of Nancy’s light-colored skirt before dripping to the ground.

It would’ve looked better if it was blood.

“W-we d-didn’t take care of high-profile kids,” Richards stammers. “I can give you the contact of who did.”

“Name.”

“S-Sarah, Sarah Lisette.”

That’s the same name Giovani gave me, so this is adding up.

I motion at a Post-It block in front of him with my gun. “Write the info down.”

“Of course, of course, Jasper.” His fingers tremble as he scribbles in messy handwriting.

The entire time, Nancy pushes against her chair, not bothering to hide her little accident.

“H-Here.” Richards extends the note with trembling fingers.

I sheathe my gun and both of them release collected breaths. Before they can rejoice, I retrieve my knife and slam it in Richards’s hand, pinning it to the table while snatching the note.

He screams, the sound loud and immensely satisfying.

“That’s for spanking kids until they turn red, Richards. Don’t let me catch you doing it again, or your life will gain an expiration date.”

I jerk my knife and he screams again as his blood splatters all over the documents and the pens scattered on his desk. Nancy shrieks too, begs falling from her lips like prayers.

She’s such a fucking hypocrite. Not so high and mighty now, is she?

I point my knife at her, and she goes completely silent, tears streaming down her face. “P-please, Jasper.”

“Did you stop when we begged, Nance? Or did you lock us up?”

“I-I...I—”

“Shut the fuck up.” I turn to leave then stare at her piss soaking the front of her skirt, her eyes bloodshot and filled with tears. “That’s what happens when you’re scared, Nance, you piss yourself. From today onward, imagine how fucking children feel.”

Richards’ screams and Nancy’s quiet weeping stay with me as I step outside their office.

I need out of this fucking place before I burn it to the ground. There are children who receive care from this place, after all.

My feet come to a halt in front of the memorial wall. Several pictures sit side by side, commemorating the generations that came in and went out of that old door.

I find myself without having to search. It’s not that I stand out, but more like I don’t. I’ve always been the invisible type, the one who sneaks in the back and only becomes visible when he chooses to.

Being invisible helped me adapt to night patrol, the searches, the attempts of molestations.

Attempts, because I always got myself out of them, by force, by wit, by having Nancy lock me in the dark room. I just managed.

Richards stood beside my class at the time. I’m the scrawny kid near the back, partially hidden from everyone, half my face is blocked by the kid beside me and my one eye is glaring.

Fucking glaring at the camera like I’m telling the world and everyone in it to go fuck themselves. My eyes were fucking mean since I was a child, evil and meant to screw up the world.

Unlike common belief, people like me are needed. We’re the predators who keep the balance. Without us, it would all be old-fashioned chaos.

I’m about to leave when I notice the small boy clinging to my side. His short black hair is in a bow cut and he’s hiding his face against my shoulder, not looking at the camera.

And I... let him.

His small fingers dig into the sleeves of my T-shirt as if it’s a lifeline. The most bizarre thing is that I haven’t beat him to shit or smashed his face for touching me.

Joseph. Little Joe.

He was too scrawny, too small, and too weak. He was several years younger than me when he came in and all the other boys wanted to bloody his perfect porcelain skin and blue —or were they green— eyes.

He’s hiding his face, and I can’t exactly paint a picture of him. It’s been decades now.

Being small and pretty, he was adopted a few months after he arrived. Stepford housewives loved his type a bit too much. Perfect boy, perfect face, perfect grades.

And he was young, so he could’ve been molded to anything they wanted him to be.

As I stare at his small fingers, a memory hits me as if it happened yesterday.

Past

Rob stares at Joseph from across the playground as he throws a rock in the air then catches it.

I snarl at him from my position on the bench and the other boy makes a motion of cutting his throat before he disappears around the corner.

We’ll see who will cut the other’s throat. I’m going to smash his face in his lunch later.

Joseph, the source of all this unwanted attention, is oblivious to everything going on around him as he picks on the daisies scattered around us.

He’s hunched over, his white shorts clean and immaculate. His silky dark hair catches in the sun, making it appear blue.

Such a weak little boy.

Even his skin is too white, it bruises when I catch him by the arm.

“Jas, look!” He points his little fingers at the daisies, his mouth falling open in complete amazement.

“Stop playing with flowers like a girl,” I reprimand him as I watch our surroundings.

It’s because he’s too weak that everyone preys on him. I shouldn’t have tackled Rob that first day when he put Joseph’s head in the toilet, I should’ve just walked away. Maybe he would’ve become stronger if he wasn’t so sure I’d save him every time.

Ever since that day, Joseph has been following me like a shadow, and as a result, no one dares to touch him, knowing he’s under my protection.

He pouts, playing with the flower, but still not turning around. “I like it. I can tell if you love me or not.”

“How can you tell, genius?”

His tiny chuckle fills the air as he plucks one petal at a time. “Jasper loves me. Jasper loves me not. Jasper loves me. Jasper loves me not. Jasper loves me…” He trails off, a tremor in his voice.

“What is it?” I lean sideways to look at his flower, but he hides away. “Joseph?”

“It says you don’t love me.” He throws the flower to the ground. “I hate this game.”

I laugh and pick another flower for him. He can be cute sometimes.

Throwing the daisy at him, I say, “Try again.”

“What if it also says you don’t love me?”

“Then I’ll bring you all the flowers until you get the answer you want.”

Present

A small smile lifts my lips.

After Joseph left, my life somehow turned for the worst, until Lucio found me that night.

And Joseph can’t possibly be a coincidence. His age matches, too. He was around seven when I was twelve.

I pluck the picture from its frame and tuck it into my pocket.

No idea where Joseph is, but he better be far away or dead. If he’s Costa’s heir as I suspect, nothing will save him.

I protected him back then, but no one will protect him from me.

MY LITTLE PETAL has called me today.

The missed call stares back at me like some sort of a sign.

I haven’t seen her since the show with Lucio yesterday. Not directly, anyway.

I’ve watched her through the window as she hugged her fat cat and tried to sleep with him tucked beside her. Naturally, the cat escaped her clutches and glared at her from the door like she’d gone crazy.

Fucking cats.

She didn’t sleep well last night, tossing and turning until dawn.

I might have watched all night, sue me.

When she went to work, I travelled to the boarding school.

Now, I’m back and she’s nowhere in her apartment. She should’ve finished work by now. I know, because I take pictures of her calendar every week when I pick her up.

Obsession. Fucking google it.

I call her, but she doesn’t pick up. I try again and when it goes to voicemail, I grip the phone harder.

Considering how she was rattled by Lucio’s appearance; she could’ve had some sort of a girls’ night out. But that one is scheduled for next week, not this one.

Standing at my balcony, I dial Dinah. She picks up after two rings.

Loud music bursts through my ear before it slowly fades away. “Jasper?”

“Yeah, Dinah, how are you?”

“I’m awesome! A night without the kids for once.” She sounds drunk.

“That’s great. Is Georgina with you?”

“Yes! We’re having so much fun.”

I smile without humor. “Mind if I join you?”

“Absolutely not! The more the merrier.”

Half an hour later, I’m at the club. Loud music thumps from the speakers and sweaty bodies grind against each other. Neon blue lights are the only break in the darkness, and it’s enough for the party-goers.

I climb the stairs and stand at the middle of the balcony where I have a complete view of the club.

Dinah and a nurse are clinking glasses of some purple liquid at the bar and laughing so loud, I can almost hear them over the music.

My little Petal isn’t with them.

It takes me five seconds flat to find her. She’s like a magnet, I can always figure out her pattern and where she’s going next.

She’s on the dancefloor, wearing a short, tight dress that outlines her tits and her ass as it falls to a little above her knees.

Even from here, I can tell she’s wasted. Doesn’t she remember what happened the last time she did something like this?

Her hair covers her back as she rolls her hips to the music, fingers disappearing in her black strands as if she’s putting on some fucking erotic show.

Two guys dance close to her, one is a nurse and the other some technician I saw at the hospital. She appears oblivious to them, to the hunger in their fucking eyes as they devour her flushed cheeks, the slight opening of her mouth, and how her tits and ass stand out in that goddamn dress.

My feet are moving of their own volition down the stairs. My muscles strain and it takes everything in me not to retrieve my knife and carve up every fucker’s face who looked at her tonight.

When I’m within reach, my little Petal is still dancing, slightly swaying on her feet.

The male nurse who’s been dancing around her like bee to honey, reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

She giggles, fucking giggles, as she grabs his arm for balance.

A red mist fills my vision as I storm between them and slam my fist into his face.

14

GEORGINA

Jasper slams Bill against the wall while someone screams.

His eyes are darker than I've ever seen them, and he looks murderous. I search for the guards, who are almost here, but I'm worried they'll be too late.

"You never look at her again," Jas tells Bill calmly. "Never. Again."

"Dude, you're –" Bill speaks up, but before he can finish, Jasper slams his fist into the guy's nose. This time, I'm the one who screams, and Bill collapses on the ground while Jas buries his foot in his stomach.

The guards finally reach us, but when they make a grab for Jasper, he shrugs them off easily. His murderous attention is still on Bill. "If I catch you so much as looking in her direction again, I'm going to break more than your fucking nose."

Another guard appears and the three of them grab for Jas, but he punches one of them, knocking him out instantly. I stare open-mouthed as he grabs me by the waist, pulling me up.

"We're leaving, Petal."

I don't have the strength to argue and I shoot a look at Dinah to let her know I'm okay. She nods, staring as Jas drags me out of the club through the back door, into an abandoned back alley.

The moment the cold air hits my senses, the music quiets down and the screaming in my mind gets louder and louder. I rip myself out of Jas' grip, and he growls out loud like an animal whose meal has been stolen.

"You're acting like a fucking caveman!" I scream. "How did you even find me, Jasper? Did you follow me?"

Uttering the words sends me into a tailspin. I realize I don't want to hear his answer, and I let out a sob, waving him off when he tries to reach for me.

"He was going to take advantage of you," Jas gets out through gritted teeth. "That guy is bad news."

"Well, you seem to be missing something," I hiss. "Whether or not I want to talk to him is my decision, not yours, you brute."

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what it is.”

“How drunk are you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

We glare at one another and I run my hands through my hair. I'm trembling, and I'm fucking cold with my light coat and these unbearably uncomfortable heels showing off my legs.

"You don’t get to barge into my life and disappear as you wish, Jasper. Where were you? Who was the guy in front of my apartment? Why the hell was he looking for you?"

He shrugs off his leather jacket and putting it around my shoulders. I don't fight him. I need the warmth.

"He's my employer," Jas grits out. "I owe him."

"You owe him what?"

"My life." His voice is so firm and steady it makes me wonder just how true his statement is. It seems like he isn't lying. "I'm in debt to him – forever. His family saved my life."

"Okay. Care to elaborate on that?"

"No." His answer leaves no room for questions, making me sigh in frustration.

"You know what, Jas?" I raise my hands in defeat. "If that's the way you want it, fucking fine. Have it your way. Don't tell me anything. Just get the hell out of my life. I don't want these secrets and this bullshit bringing me down any more than it already has."

I’m so tired of waiting for him when it’s obviously going nowhere, and I hate myself for being glad that he came to find me. My moods are dangerously controlled by him, and I can’t have that anymore.

I turn around, but he grabs my hand, his hot skin enveloping my cold one, and I'm embarrassed because I hesitate before pulling away from him.

"You're not leaving me, Petal," Jas says.

"It’s not your decision to make.” I turn over my shoulder to look at him. "This could have been something life-changing, Jas. You just had to fuck it up."

I peel his jacket off my shoulders and give it back to him while he stares me down.

"You'll be cold," he mutters.

"I don't care." I turn around and start walking away from him, the sound of my heels on the concrete ringing in my head.

I feel hot tears burning my eyes before I even make it around the block. The sharp pain of Jasper's behavior sends me running down the street, trying to swallow down the sobs threatening to rip out of my chest.

I don't notice anything or anyone until I'm a block and a half away, still preoccupied with my own thoughts and sobs. But then I feel it – the creepy feeling of being watched, of a pair of eyes on the back of my neck.

I remember the open window. I remember the spider, the missing glass. And for the first time, I allow myself to wonder whether someone's... following me.

The mere idea is so disturbing I gulp. But what other explanation could there be – apart from me losing my damn mind?

After that realization, I keep glancing over my shoulder, the hairs sticking on the back of my neck. Aside from the shadows and the glow of the streetlights, there’s nothing. Swallowing the uneasy sensation, I continue making my way home.

When I'm at the front door, I fumble with my keys so much I drop them. I curse softly, bending down to pick them up. When I do, I finally see him – the dark figure standing in the corner.

He's wearing a leather jacket.

Something takes over me then. I'm not sure whether it's madness or foolishness or simply being drunk, but I storm in the direction of the man watching me, and when he breaks into a run, I do the same. He dodges a car and I follow suit, the driver honking at us angrily as they speed down the road.

"You!" I scream. "Wait!"

I expect him to continue running, to tire me and then disappear – which wouldn’t be so hard considering I’m drunk. However, he stops abruptly, making me skid to a sudden halt. He turns around and the face that greets me under the streetlight makes me laugh bitterly.

"What are you doing, Jasper?"

"Making sure you're fucking safe.” He sounds calm, unaffected as if this is an every day occurrence. "You should be saying thank you, Petal."

"You're following me.” All pieces fall into place and I gasp. “Have you been following me all along, making me paranoid in my own skin?”

Before he can say anything, I stomp back towards my building and let myself in, forcing myself on autopilot.

No, no. I don’t want to think about it. Not now.

As I'm about to slam the door closed, his footsteps come between us and he forces his way inside.

"Jas, stop it," I hiss, glancing down the hallway to make sure we're alone. "Someone's going to hear."

"Then you better get to your apartment and fast." He motions down the hallway. "Let's go, Pet."

I mutter something under my breath and start walking up the stairs, with him following close behind. I don't want to admit it, but I'm oddly comforted by Jas' presence even with the slight realization swimming in my head.

Once I'm at my door, I motion for him to go. "I'm fine now. Bye."

"I'm checking inside," he insists, pushing past me into my apartment.

"For what?" I groan, following him in. I take off my jacket and push a button on my speakers that reads out messages from my phone.

"Hey babe," Dinah's voice says on the answering machine. She doesn't sound like the Dinah I know at all. She sounds worried and upset. " I'm so sorry about tonight. Seeing Jasper act like that, God... I feel like I should come clean about something."

She sighs heavily and I rub my temples, preparing for whatever is to come.

"I know I'm the one who set you up with this Jasper guy," she rattles off. "But I'm going to be really honest... I don't know him that well at all."

I look at Jasper, fuming. "When were you planning on telling me this?"

"I don't know," he shrugs his jacket off. "Dinah didn't seem too worried."

"Well, she is now! I can't believe you, Jas. You totally ruined my day."

"You ruined mine too, so I guess we're even."

He plops down on the couch and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. He acts as if we're a couple already, like he lives with me or something.

I watch as Mr. Bingley jumps into Jas' lap. He groans as the cat settles down. At least the cats are warming to him – that's got to be a good sign, right?

I'm not going to let him get away with this, I decide as I pour myself a glass of ice-cold water and drink it down in long, thirsty gulps. Jas flicks on the TV and I come to stand in front of him, blocking his view.

"What is it, Pet?" he asks, never taking his eyes off the screen.

"I can't just ignore what you did tonight. You acted like a crazy person."

He doesn't reply, knitting his brows together and flicking through the channels before finally speaking up. "Fine. Maybe it wasn't my best moment."

I scoff and he shoots me a warning look. I guess it's as close to an apology as I'm going to get.

"I'll make it up to you," he goes on, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You have one question. Use it carefully. Ask me anything you want."

The words render me speechless, and I stare at him without a reply.

"Go on, Pet," he grunts. "I thought you had so many things to say. Cat got your tongue now?"

I hiss, crossing my arms and staring him down without fear. You wanted to play this game, Jas. "Your employer. What’s his name?"

"Lucio. What about him?" Jasper folds his hands in his lap and looks back at me with a stone-cold expression.

"The jobs you do for h-him." I hate myself for stuttering, but I can't help it. This is completely out of my league. "Do t-they in-involve... hurting people?" Jasper's eyes darken even more, going from a cool icy blue to an inky, stormy sky.

"Tell me, Jas," I demand. "I deserve to know the truth."

He still doesn't answer and I sigh in frustration.

"Jasper, you're being totally unreasonable," I cry out. "You said one question, and you'd answer it, and –"

He interrupts me by getting up in a flash, pulling me on the couch and holding my body on his lap so I can't move. I can feel his heartbeat, steady and slow, a stark difference to the hammering of my own heart.

"Are you going to tell me?" I whisper as he turns the volume up on the TV.

“You don’t want to know.” He gathers me in his arms as he stands up and I have no choice but to wrap my legs around him as he strides into my bedroom and throws me over the mattress.

Then, he’s on top me, gripping my jaw. “The fun is over. Time for your punishment.”

15

JASPER

People usually have one strike with me. At the second, they’re out.

It’s fucking finished; their dreams, their lives, and everything in between.

My little Petal has just reached her second strike. The first was getting drunk and dancing with those asshole friends, the second was trying to chase me away.

As if that will ever happen.

My little Petal seems under the misconception that she has a fucking choice in the matter. She doesn’t.

She stares up at me with wide eyes as I pin her to her bed by her jaw. I can feel the pulse underneath my skin, heightening, quickening, as if her heart is about to explode out of its confinements.

It’s a shame for her heart to stop beating. If she needs one, I’ll just rip one out and give it to her all bloodied and even still throbbing.

“Jasper—”

“Shh.” I cut her off, shaking my head. “You’re at your second strike, Pet.”

“S-Second strike? What does that mean?”

“It means you should be lifeless right now, but I’m thinking about an alternative. The best thing you can do right now is to shut the fuck up.”

She swallows. I can see her need to speak, say something, even protest, but there’s something curious about my little Petal. When she’s at my mercy — or the lack thereof, her smart mouth is usually slightly parted as if begging for my cock inside it.

That’s an idea.

I release her and she shudders, visibly pushing against the mattress. Poor little Petal. Does she really think anything will save her from me?

“On your knees, Pet.”

She pushes against the headboard, pulling the sheet to her neck and watching me with unfocused eyes. Could be because of the alcohol in her system, but she’s finding trouble keeping up.

“Jasper, I... I don’t want to do this.”

I cock my head to the side. “Do what?”

“Whatever it is you want me to do.”

“Why?”

She thins her lips into a line but says nothing.

“Why, Pet?” I rise to my feet, towering over her until my shadow falls on her small frame.

“Y-you’re scaring me.”

A smirk lifts my lips. “Is that so?”

Her mouth trembles as she tightens her hold on the sheet. My sweet little Petal is almost like those who beg for their lives at the last second. They know nothing will save them, but they still fight for that hope of freedom anyway.

“It’s useless, Pet. You’re already caught.”

“Can’t you un-caught me.” There’s a hint of her feistiness in there, but she soon clamps her mouth shut.

A humorless chuckle rips from me. “No, and that’s not even a word. Aren’t you supposed to be a nerd?”

“How... how do you know that?”

Her huge eyes widen even more, almost bulging out of their sockets. She’s starting to suspect me, and while I camouflaged it well at the beginning, I couldn’t give two shits about it right now. She can suspect me all she likes, but there will be no changing this.

“On your fucking knees. I won’t repeat myself.”

It’s slow and almost uncoordinated, but she releases the sheet and lets it fall beside her as she stumbles. I shove both my hands in my pockets, so I don’t reach out and steady her.

My little Petal needs to learn how to follow orders. From now on, it’s going to be imperative for her survival.

“Faster.”

She flinches at my authoritative tone but quickly kneels in front of me, her eyes meeting mine. Although they’re clouded by fear, there’s something else, too.

Something wild and unhinged.

I unbuckle my pants and let them fall to the ground as I free my dick. It’s been rock-fucking hard since the moment I beat those guys up for putting their goddamn hands on her. I even contemplated bending her over the bar’s table and fucking her in front of the entire club, so the world would know who she belongs to.

“You’re going to suck me and you’re going to make it good, Pet.” I shove my dick against her lips, wetting them with my pre-cum. “Am I making myself clear?”

She slowly opens her tiny mouth, her hands reaching out to aid her with my thickness. I’m too big for her, and I groan as I watch her struggle, trying to fit me in without triggering her gag reflex.

She’s gentle, soft, too soft for my mood right now.

“Did I ask you to caress me?”

She shakes her head frantically, picking up her pace, but it’s still not enough. Nothing is enough with my little Petal. She can stay on her knees for eternity, getting me off and it still won’t be enough.

I grab a fistful of her hair, wrap it around my hand, and tug harshly. She cries out at the pain at her roots, but she doesn’t stop sucking.

With my fist in her hair, I shove myself deep down her throat. Her eyes bulge and redden, tears pooling at the bottom of those gray clouds that are driving me fucking crazy.

I pull out of her and she coughs, my pre-cum and her drool forming rivulets on either side of her mouth.

As she sucks in a deep breath, I pull her by the hair again and hit the back of her throat with my dick, my hips jerking with the movement.

She stares at me with defiance, tears stroking her cheeks and face flushed, but she doesn’t break eye contact, as if challenging me, taunting me.

My little Petal doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.

I pull out of her and drag her to her feet by the hair. Her squeal rips through the room as I throw her on the bed, face down.

Animals are called animals for letting their instincts take over, for acting on their impulses.

I’m a fucking animal as I lunge on Petal’s back and rip her dress off with my bare hands.

She gasps and tries to kick me away, her cries and pants are accentuated by the silence in the room.

The moment her bare flesh is in sight, I fucking lose it.

She’s wearing nothing underneath. No bra, no panties —nothing.

I grab a fistful of her hair as my front covers her back. My voice is calm, unlike the war raging inside me. “What were your plans for the night, my pet? Who did you go bare for?”

“N-No one.” The tremors in her voice only feed my beast, causing me to harden and urging me to take it out on her smooth, unblemished flesh.

“No one?” I bring my hand down on her ass cheek.

She yelps, the sound ending on a pained moan. The smell of her arousal fills the air like she doesn’t know whether to be turned on or upset by the slap.

My little Petal is that way sometimes, unable to let go, even when deep down, she wants to.

“The dress,” she gasps.

“The dress?” I pull it completely off her and throw the torn cloth on the ground. “Which dress?”

“The one you just ruined. It looks better on its own.” She pants as if coming down from a marathon.

“Let me tell you a secret, Pet.” I thrust three fingers inside her wet cunt, making her arch off the bed as I lean over to bite her lobe into my mouth. “You look the best out of it.”

Her eyes roll back as I lick down her cheek and then latch onto a spot on her neck that drives her fucking crazy. I suck hard and bite and leave my mark like a primal being claiming what belongs to him, all while fucking her with my fingers.

I don’t stop when she cries out or when she begs, or even when her eyes fill with tears.

The stimulation is torturing her, making her slick and hot and tingly. I feel it against my hand as she soaks me, demanding more.

I give her just that.

Clutching her ass cheek, I shove off her and pull her up by the hips so her ass is up in the air and her glistening wetness is ready for me.

“Jas... please.”

“Please what?”

“L-Let me go…” Her trembling body betrays her. The way her ass molds into my hand, demanding I fuck her in it, is also betraying her.

But that’s the thing with my little Petal. She’s at her best when she’s offered no mercy.

“Let you go?” I slap her ass again and she bucks off, yelping. “Do you think that’s an option?”

“You’re killing me.” She glances at me over her shoulder, eyes glistening, cheeks red, and the hickeys on her neck glaring at me with pride.

“That’s the point, my pet. This is your second strike after all.” I remove my fingers, grab hold of her hips, and slam my dick balls deep into her tight pussy.

She cries out, and the sound is muffled as she hides her face into the pillow.

I don’t fuck her, I punish her. I slam inside her with a force that bucks her body off the bed and the little whimpers coming from her are driving me fucking insane.

My balls tighten with the need to release my seed inside her and mark her for the fucking world to see.

“Jasper, oh, please…” she mumbles against the pillow.

“Let you go? Let you come? Pick one, my pet.”

“I hate you,” she gasps on the word as her ass wiggles against me, demanding more, demanding everything.

That’s the thing about my little Petal. She’s greedy and she’s a fucking seductress. It’s just that she needs that wanton slut wrenched out of her.

“I hate you too, Petal.” I pound inside her with the pace of a madman. It gets faster and harder, stronger and louder. Her tits bounce with the force of it and her moans break.

“Jas... Jas…”

“What will it be, Pet? Come or fucking go?”

“Come! Make me come!”

I pull out almost completely then slam back in, my thumb pressing on her clit at the same time.

Her nails dig into the mattress as she lets out a moan mixed with a sob. A full-body shudder grips her as she unravels around my cock.

Seeing her come undone around me is an aphrodisiac in itself. There’s no way in fuck I’m letting another person see her at her best, at her most fragile and erotic form as I do now.

I grip her hair in a ponytail, slightly lifting her off the bed as I ram inside her with ruthless thrusts. Another wave hits her, bleeding into the previous one as I empty myself in her heat.

My shoulders tighten with the force of my release as my cum fills her to the brim.

A soft sigh leaves her lips and I pull out of her, watching the streaks of my cum trailing down her thighs.

My cock is about ready to take her over and over and fucking over again. I need to mark her, claim her, and bind her to me.

As she watches me with half-lidded eyes, my cum filling her and my marks decorating her neck, only one thought remains.

Mine.

16

GEORGINA

I trace my fingers over Jas' chest, all the questions I want to ask him are running through my head.

He might have fucked me senseless, but he won’t make me forget about the questions he avoided. He still hasn't told me the whole truth, and the nagging little voice in the back of my mind demands I finally get some answers.

After the night we've had, I'm afraid to ask, but I also know I won't have any peace of mind until Jasper comes clean.

"Jas," I mutter, tracing my finger over his full lips.

"Hm?" His eyes are closed. There's a faint shadow of stubble on his chiseled jaw, and he looks more peaceful than I've ever seen him.

"I need to ask you a few more things." I hate breaking the spell.

Jasper groans and grabs me by the throat. I moan as he drags me on top of him, fingers tangling in my hair as he holds my head up, looking deep into my eyes. "Why do you always have to have so many questions, Pet? Can't we just do what we're best at and fuck?"

"No." I scramble out of his reach and sit cross-legged on the bed. Jas groans, glancing at the alarm clock next to my bed.

"Petal, it's four thirty a.m."

"I don't care."

"So, what are these questions?" He sighs, sitting up in bed and earning a victorious smile from me. "More stuff I don't want to answer?"

"You don't want to tell me anything at all, anyway." I roll my eyes and nudge him playfully. "Come on. I just want to know more about you."

"Like what?"

"Like... do you have any siblings?" He shakes his head, his mouth setting in a thin line, and I give it a moment's thought before I go on. "What about pets? I know you don't like cats, but maybe a dog?"

"No." His answer is firm and leaves room for no other questions. "Are you done with the interrogation?"

"I've barely asked you two questions!" I sigh in frustration and roll onto my front, with my feet up in the air. "What about your job, then? You haven't even told me what you do?"

"I told you," he mutters. "I work in HR, at C Electronics. You could say I'm someone who gets things done."

"Okay." I raise an eyebrow at him. "For the company?"

"For the family."

"Which family?"

He groans. "Is this necessary?"

"Yes," I insist. "Who do you run errands for?"

"You met him," Jas mutters.

"That Lucio guy?" He nods reluctantly. Once again, the thought of the creepy guy I'd seen in front of my apartment sends chills down my spine. There's something unnerving about him. I remind myself not to judge and try to find out more before I make any crazy assumptions. Just because he gives me the creeps doesn't mean he's a bad person. "So, what kind of errands do you run for him?"

"Whatever needs doing." Jas yawns and pulls the duvet higher. "Can we go to sleep, Petal? You're getting on my nerves."

"Just one more question," I beg, and he finally gives in, glaring at me as he motions for me to go on. "Have you hurt anyone for this Lucio guy?"

"Define hurt."

"You know what I mean, Jas." The question is making my own heart race. I taste acid. I'm scared of Jasper's answer. "Have you hurt innocent people as part of your job?"

He stares back at me, but says nothing. His full lips thin into a line and we have a silent blinking competition that I lose.

"Answer me," I demand.

"Stop bossing me around. I own you, not the other way around, Petal."

"Like fuck you do." I'm out of the bed in a flash, eyes filled with anger. It seems like not even an hour can go by without us getting into an argument, and the last one is still too fresh on my mind to just sweep it under the rug. "Are you going to answer me, Jasper? Because if you're not, the fucking door is right there."

He follows my pointed finger and stares at the door like he's contemplating whether he should just walk out on me. I know I'm being crazy, but I can't help it. All of Jas' cryptic answers, that weird guy Lucio, and then the scene at the club tonight – I can't just pretend it's nothing.

"Are you sure, Pet?" he finally asks, and I find myself nodding. I've gone too far with this now. I can't just back out.

As he gets up and my heart starts to hammer out of control, I ignore it. I stare at the floor, hoping he'll change his mind, but instead, he grabs his boxers and jeans and pulls them on. I stare at his chiseled body. He has some questionable scars I've asked nothing about. Now that I opened the Pandora’s box, I'm afraid to know the truth.

Jas gets dressed and approaches me. "You keep sending me away. I wonder when you're going to realize I'm never leaving."

I shrug him off and he takes the hint, walking away. Just when he's at the bedroom door, my stupid heart calls out to him, and the words tear themselves from my lips before I can stop myself.

"Jas, wait..."

He doesn't need to be told twice. Jasper turns around, reaching me in four quick steps and throwing my trembling body on the bed.

"You never tell me to leave again, Pet," he growls at me.

His fingers tear at my shirt with possessive need, buttons flying everywhere. He rips my shirt open down the middle and I gasp when his fingers find my nipples. They twist and pinch painfully and I cry out, but not for long – a moment later, Jas sucks my nipple into his mouth and bites down, causing waves of ecstasy to roll through my body.

"That's for being a controlling little monster," he groans against my skin. "And this is for telling me to leave. A pet doesn’t tell their master to leave, is that clear?"

I mewl when he bites me, but he only takes it as an invitation to take things further. It makes me wonder when I'm going to admit his cruel kind of love is exactly what I need, and what I've wanted this whole time. The missing piece.

As he continues his assault on my body, the realization I hid away from the entire night hits me.

Jasper following me.

The spider.

The glass.

The window.

The spider.

The glass.

The window.

I push Jasper off.

"What the fuck now?" He makes a grab for me, but I dodge it, running into the kitchen. He follows behind and I stand trembling in front of the kitchen cabinets. "What is it, Pet?"

"I want some water," I say, trying to stay calm. "Can you pour me a glass?"

Jas gives me an odd look, but shrugs and heads for the cabinet with the glasses. He doesn't even hesitate to ask where they are. And he gets it right on the first try.

"How did you know where the glasses were?"

He freezes mid-move, turning to give me a sideways look over his shoulder. "Huh?"

"The glasses. How did you know where they were?"

"I probably saw you take them out before."

"I don't think so." I cross my arms. "Oh my God. It's you, isn't it?"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Pet?" He looks menacing as he walks up to me. "What are you on about now?"

"You're the freak who's been following me around!" I cry out, jamming a finger into his chest. "You left the window open. You took care of that spider. You put the glass back."

"Petal." Jas' eyes burn with silent fire, urging me not to go on. "Drop this now. I'm warning you."

"Is it you?" I demand. "Are you the one who's been... stalking me?"

He stares back at me, eyes cold.

"Answer me!" I slam my fists against his chest, but he easily gathers them in his hands and pulls me away. "What do you want to hear, Pet? I don't think it's the truth."

"It would be a nice change," I scoff, pulling free of his grip. "Because all you've done so far is fucking lie. I don't know whether a single thing I know about you is the truth. Including your name."

"Fine." His voice is cold now, dripping with ice. "I've been keeping an eye on you. Someone had to."

"What?" I run my hands through my hair as I stare at him. "I can't believe it. You... I... You had me thinking I was crazy, Jasper! Imagining things, going insane..."

"I was trying to take care of you," he grits out.

"I can take care of myself!" The bastard actually laughs out loud and I scream, attacking him again. From the sofa, my cats watch us fighting without a care in the world. Unfaithful little bastards. "I can't believe what you've done. You're sick, Jas! Sick!"

"I've heard worse," he replies, and despite it all, it hurts me for him. "Since you're getting so good at finding out the truth, ask me some more shit, Pet. I'm done holding back."

I don't know whether it's another way to torture myself or if I'm just being plain stupid, but Pandora's box is open now, and I want to bring out more demons.

"You've killed someone before, haven't you?" I whisper.

Jasper laughs.

At first, I think it's because the idea sounds ridiculous. A moment later, I wonder whether I'm being naive by thinking he's only killed one person.

"You want an answer?" He approaches me, grabbing my arms and pinning them behind my head. I struggle, but it's useless. "The fucking truth and nothing but, right, Pet?"

I let out a cry, pleading silently for him to stop.

He doesn't.

"Of course I've fucking killed," he hisses. "I'd do it again just to watch them die."

I recoil in disgust, the sheer force of his words spiraling me out of control. "Let go of me, you monster!"

"You wanted the truth, Pet. Now it's time to fucking handle it."

"Stop! Please, just stop!"

He grabs my hip with one hand, the other keeping my arms above my head. He slams my hips against the wall, and I cry out. "I love seeing the life leak out of them, Petal. I love watching their eyes go fucking dead. I revel in it. I live for it, to watch others die."

“Stop it.” My voice trembles with pure unhinged fear.

“This is your fucking truth and you get to hear it out.” His icy eyes turn bottomless like an ocean. “Remember that little doctor of yours? The one who dined and wined you? He didn’t get to say a word as my knife sliced him open.”

My eyes widen as I stare up at him. He killed Andrew. Oh, my God. He killed Andrew before I even met him.

Does that mean he’s been watching me since then?

His voice drops to a terrifying range. “I stood right there as life left his pathetic eyes.”

I start to cry then, and he finally seems to realize he's gone too far. He lets go of me, and stumbles back, as if he's shocked by his actions, too.

I open a drawer and pull out a pan with shaky fingers, pointing it at him. "Get the fuck out, Jas."

He stares at my would-be weapon. "You know I'll be back."

"Not if I can help it."

"Then, my little Petal..." He takes a step forward and I extend my arm with the pan, making him lift his arms in mock defeat. "You'll have to sleep with one eye open."

"Out, you... monster." I point to the door and push him forward with my free hand. "Out. Out. Out. Now!"

He stumbles opens the door and walking into the hallway. I toss his hoodie and leather jacket after him, and he glares at me from outside.

"You're the worst of the worst, Jas," I tell him. "A stalker. A fucking killer. I never want to see you again."

I slam the door before I can see his reaction.

The moment we're separated by the wood, I slide down the door to the floor, sobbing my heart out. I wait for the knock that never comes. I count seconds, all the way to five-hundred, before I pick myself up and drag myself to the shower. I spend an eternity scrubbing my body, at the same time wanting to get every trace of Jasper off my skin and hating losing his scent. But I keep scrubbing, anyway.

After my skin is rubbed raw and red, I dress in a pair of comfortable PJs and wait by my phone until seven a.m. Then, I call a number I've written down on a Post-It, shakily leaving a message at the beep.

"Hello. I would like to request someone to change my locks as soon as possible. Today, if you can. Yes, it's urgent."

17

JASPER

Fear.

Deep, raw fear.

If I knew her expression would turn that exquisite, I would’ve come clean before.

After all, I was never ashamed of how I invaded my little Petal’s life.

She has always been mine to own, mine to break and to destroy.

Some would call this stalking, but I call it keeping an eye on her.

My little Petal has a problem with her sensory world. She often ignores the predators lurking all around her, waiting for the right moment to strike and harvest her soul.

Lucky for her, she has the most notorious of all. No one will hurt her under my watch —or rather, no one will come near her.

She said she doesn’t want to see me again and has been watching through the window most of the night, hugging the very unwilling orange cat to her chest.

In the morning, she had her locks changed.

My poor little Petal doesn’t know that the darkness can seep under that door and suffocate her in her sleep.

I could walk away and focus on the Costa game, play my role, and find more lives to finish.

This is my way out, and yet it isn’t.

The problem with my little Petal is that she thinks she can tell me what to do, that she can erase me from her life whenever she wishes.

It doesn’t work that way, and I have to find a way to drag her back inside, kicking, screaming, and hitting.

Doesn’t matter, as long as she’s back.

I retrieve a cigarette and light it as I lean against my balcony. The first drag of nicotine adds a sense of clarity to what I have to do next.

There isn’t a choice anyway. It’s either the boring road of letting her go, and probably coming back more obsessed and dangerous, or I can finish what I started and teach my little Petal that there’s no way out.

She has just left the apartment for her shift, looking over her shoulder, and in the parking lot, and even when she’s in her car, as if expecting to find me.

Her lips were parted, and she had no makeup on. The roundness of her eyes is still engraved in my head. The way they darkened like a storm brewing in the distance, waiting to come out and play.

It’s not only fear. It’s not the usual excitement either.

There’s something curious about those eyes that I can’t wait to unravel, to break, and maybe, just maybe put it back together again, if I like what I see.

I could’ve followed her and made myself either noticeable or unnoticeable, depending on my mood. I could’ve fucked with her head until I’m the only thought inside it.

But I have better ways to do that.

I leave my apartment and head to hers. My little Petal has closed her window and balcony. She even let the blinds down, disallowing me any view to the inside. I never thought I’d miss seeing those cats lazing around.

The only way to go inside is to break the window, but I have a better idea.

I reach under the fire extinguisher and smirk when my fingers touch the small piece of metal.

My little Petal is smart, but she’s a creature of fucking habit. She thinks because she never pulled her spare key in front of me, then I wouldn’t know where she hides it.

Sometimes, it’s so easy to read her mind. Others, it’s like a fucking chore.

The lock opens after I insert the new key.

The orange cat stands at the entrance like a little demon, glaring at me.

I swear he snuggles up to her more when I’m around, demanding she pets and caresses him.

He doesn’t hiss at me anymore, which is progress, but he’s still taunting me with his close relationship with her.

He’s at his first strike.

Fucking hell. I can’t believe I’m giving strikes to cats.

I stride into the silent apartment and the cat follows in a lazy walk.

Pulling out my gadgets, I carefully install the listening devices in her bedroom and living room.

These are tools Lucio uses for his frenemies, and they’re hardly detected even by professionals.

I place one in the lamp and the other behind the mirror.

Once I’m done, I stare at my image. I look normal, so fucking normal, it’s uncanny.

Actually, I’m above normal, with looks that always got me anywhere I wanted with women.

But aren’t the normal ones the scariest?

If my little Petal had better self-preservation, she would’ve noticed that. But even if she did, would anything change? If she resisted me at first, would all of this have ended?

No, and no.

It would’ve only been uglier for her. I might be quiet, but I’m a fucking animal when I put my sights on something.

It’s never over until the prey is under my teeth, ripped to pieces.

And piece by piece, I collect them back together again.

Besides, I’m not entirely sure my little Petal didn’t sniff the darkness inside me. At times, when I’m fucking her, pulling her by the hair and using her body, she’d be dripping wet, staring at me with those stormy eyes like all this is otherworldly.

She’s an animal, too, in some way. She’s just either in denial about it or hides it so much better than everyone else.

Now, I need to know what she talks about or watches when she’s alone. If I know her better, I’ll fuck her over more efficiently.

All predators sample their prey before pouncing.

I sit on her bed and retrieve her laptop. She doesn’t use it often, but when she does, it’s in a dark room and she’d disappear with it under the covers.

She doesn’t do that with her books or Netflix, so there must be something here.

It takes me two tries to get the passcode. Her birthday was a miss, she’s not that predictable after all, but it’s her oldest cat’s name, Mrs. Hudson, the lazy one who’s always sleeping unless it’s time for food. My little Petal is predictable after all.

Her wallpaper is a picture of her two cats.

This fucking cat lady is incorrigible.

I go through her browsing history. Facebook, the hospital website, tons of articles and forums about cat care and cat owners sharing expertise, and some forums about Netflix shows.

It’s not until I reach the fifth page that my fingers stop at the cursor.

My, my.

I click on the link and it takes me straight to a porn site, and not any porn site —a paid one.

My little Petal can be unpredictable after all.

I know she owns a vibrator, but during the time I watched her, she barely masturbated if at all. If she did, she must’ve done it under the sheets and didn’t make a show of it.

The fact she’s paying a subscription to an edgy porn site is... interesting.

I go to her account and chuckle to myself when I see her username.

Mr. Bingley.

I stare at the cat who’s now sitting beside me. “You’re into some porn, boy?”

He huffs as he rests his paws in a sleeping position.

I go through her history and the titles she watched stop me in my tracks.

Being attacked, hard sex.

Rough with an attacker.

A woman enjoying rough.

Woman likes being degraded in a merciless way.

Woman enjoys being raped by attacker.

Choked and fucked.

Passionate rough sex.

Spanked and fucked.

Held down and fucked.

Tied down, choked, and fucked.

Woman used and enjoys it.

THOSE ARE the ones she favored and watched more than ten times. The same clip more than ten times.

I see the pattern without even having to go on.

My cock strains, but it’s not because of the pictures. I don’t even have interest in opening those videos, I don’t have to.

I knew my little Petal had some darker inkling; I’ve seen the storm in her eyes and felt the tremor in her body.

However, I didn’t think it went this deep or dark.

No wonder she doesn’t masturbate. No masturbation will bring her what she craves.

Being used, abused, held down and fucked until she no longer takes it.

Oh, and enjoying it.

Her toy can’t bring her that, but I can.

A smirk tugs on my lips as I exit the site, delete the recent history and close the laptop.

Here I was thinking I should hold back with her. She doesn’t need that, she needs something more potent and out of control.

After all, we’re both fucking animals, in one way or another.

When she returns tonight, a surprise will be waiting for her.

My little Petal won’t only have her every fantasy come true, but she’ll also develop new fantasies she never thought were possible.

18

GEORGINA

Coming home from work, I have a bad premonition of what's waiting on the other side of my door before I even unlock it.

As soon as I'm inside the apartment, I realize I was right.

Before I left for work, I'd replied to some emails on my laptop, and I left it on my desk where the cats couldn't get to it. But now, the laptop is on my coffee table in the living room, and Mr. Bingley's sitting on it.

I know for a fact I didn't leave it there, and my lips form a thin line as I double-lock the door after entering. He's been in here. I just know it.

It's late, and I'm exhausted. I don't want to worry about Jasper right now, and I'm in a delirious state as I lock all the doors and double-check to make sure all the windows are closed. Forcing myself not to think about Jasper, I feed and play with the cats before dragging myself into the bathroom.

I take a long, scalding hot shower and slip under the covers of my bed naked. The sheets feel silky soft against my skin, and I relish the feeling of them against my tired body. I don't allow myself to think about Jas at all. Instead, I focus on getting comfortable and letting my weariness take over.

Still, it takes me an hour of tossing and turning to finally fall into a dreamless sleep.

I DON'T KNOW what wakes me up first, but when my eyes open, I become acutely aware of two things.

One, I can't move.

Two, there's someone else in my room.

I open my mouth to scream, but before a sound can escape my lips, a hand stuffs something in my mouth. It's silky and soft and lacy, and with horror, I realize they're my panties, scrunched up into a ball.

All of a sudden, I'm fully awake, my heart hammering in my chest as I look up at my hands. They're handcuffed to my bedposts by the wrists, and I can barely move them. I let out a cry.

The room is enveloped in semi-darkness, the only light coming from the streetlights outside. I already know this has something to do with Jas – it has his signature written all over it, and I had no doubt he'd try to fuck with my head again after our last disastrous encounter.

A dark figure appears before me. I recognize it as him from his black hoodie that is once again pulled over his head. He's holding something, and all I see is the glint of a smile as he walks up to me, raising his hand.

I shrink back, getting ready to scream, but my lips wrap around a ball instead.

Jas forces a ball gag into my mouth, tightening the buckle behind my head before I can utter a sound. My heart is pounding, waves of adrenaline rushing through my body. My mouth is already responding to the forced object inside it, and a dribble of saliva runs down my chin. I whimper as Jas' hand lingers on my cheek, comforting me without saying a word.

There are so many things I want to say to him, but he won't give me the chance. Instead, he moves his hand from my cheek down to my neck, squeezing and cutting off my breath. I choke and sputter, more spit dripping from my gagged mouth.

Suddenly, I remember the laptop.

Did he look at it? Did he see it? My shame? My filthiest fantasies, all of them saved in neatly organized order for my viewing pleasure. The thought that he's forced himself into my life this way, stolen even more of my secrets, pisses me off, and I thrash wildly against my handcuffs in a desperate attempt to get the hell away from him.

He reappears and gets on top of me, and when he pulls the duvet off my body, there's not an inch of my skin that remains hidden. Why on earth did I decide to sleep naked tonight? I let out a muffled groan as Jas forcefully parts my legs. The moonlight reveals his face – he’s wearing a stoic mask, but the vision breaks apart when he smirks.

"I'm only giving you what you want, Petal," he tells me in a low growl before burying his head between my legs.

He sucks and licks me to the point my limbs start hitting the bed. I don't know whether I'm scrambling to get away from him, or to get more. His touch feels like fire, and my body wants to be licked by its flames.

"Don't tell me this isn't what you've been hoping for," he speaks up again from between my legs. "I've seen your browsing history, you dirty slut."

Instantly, my cheeks are aflame and Jas smirks, chuckling at my obvious discomfort. "Yes, Pet, I've seen it all. Every filthy little fantasy you've ever had, all spelled out for me. And then it fucking hit me."

He slaps my pussy without warning, hard enough to make me yelp and send shockwaves through my body. I hate how much I love it, and shame keeps burning me from the inside as Jas goes on.

"You want this, slut. You want to be used, degraded. You want a fucking stalker, don't you? You want someone to follow you in the dead of the night, but that's not enough, is it?"

I cry out as my mouth fills with more saliva, but he pays me no mind, continuing his monologue.

"You want your stalker to take you. To drag you into a dark alley and treat you like the filthy little slut you are."

He unbuckles his belt and hungry, muffled moans fill the air when he takes out his engorged cock. It takes me a moment to realize the moans are coming from me.

" I'm here to give you what you want, Pet. I'll always know your nos mean yes, please, more. Always fucking more."

Hot tears begin to spill from my eyes, and I shut them tightly. I tell myself I don't want this, but it's a lie – it's obvious from the way I'm responding. In a way, I'm thankful Jas has gagged me – otherwise I’m sure I'd embarrass myself further by begging for more.

He plunges his cock inside me in one long, fluid motion that makes me mewl out loud. Jasper doesn't make love; he fucks me like he hates me. Punishing punches of his cock inside me make me wide awake and, within the third thrust, I'm already moaning, trying to shape the word please as best as I can through my gag.

I want him to do this to me. Not only because of the punishment, but also because this is my wildest fucking fantasy. Jas is letting me live to the very last detail.

My first orgasm takes me by surprise, ripping through my body with a shocking combination of force and need. Jas fucks me like I’m just a doll, driving his cock inside me like he's merely using my holes to get off. Like he doesn't give a shit whether I'm enjoying this or not. To my horror, it only serves to turn me on more.

"You filthy slut," he murmurs in my ear. "Dressed that way. Tempting every fucking man. You knew this was going to happen, didn't you, Petal? You wanted to get raped."

Another orgasm, this time even more heart-pounding than the last. I'm groaning, whimpering, when he finally pulls the gag free. I'm still handcuffed, gulping down sobs as he rolls the ball all over my pussy, soaking it in my juices.

"Be nice and quiet now, Pet.”

I nod, my bottom lip shaking. Wordlessly, I watch him make the ball drip with my juices before shoving it back in my mouth.

"I want you to taste what I'm tasting. The sweetest little cunt I've ever had. How is anyone supposed to resist you, Petal? Every man dreams of raping that filthy cunt of yours.”

He lifts my legs apart and plunges his cock in again. Fucks me hard and fast and relentless. I stop counting after the third orgasm. Stop existing after another hour of his torture. It's like he's determined to break me with the sheer force of his cock. I'm coming apart beneath him and he doesn't even care, fucking me into such a mess I'm soaked in tears, spit and my own juices.

I don't know how much later it is, but I'm gasping for air when he removes the gag again.

"Nice and quiet, remember?" He reminds me, and I nod breathlessly. "Good girl, Petal. Now I'm going to give you a special present because you were so good tonight. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

I nod again as he lovingly touches his fingertips to my cheeks. He's so gentle.

But not for long.

He slaps my cheek, hard. The shock is enough to make me drip and I stare into his eyes defiantly.

"More," I whisper.

His lips lift in a dark, cruel smirk. "You want to be hit again?"

I nod.

He backhands me.

The sting of the slap feels surreal – surreal enough to make my legs open wide. Surreal enough to have my juices leaking from me.

“Again,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.

He slaps me again, from left to right and right to left and when I cry out it’s because I’m coming. Coming as he hits me. Jerking my hips like a slut as the shock of each slap has my body reeling.

I just came by being hit and called a slut.

Oh, God.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

The shame of it all is too much to bear, and I bury my head in the pillow while Jas plunges his cock into me and fucks me like a wild animal. He's relentless, driving his cock into me as he leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Good girls get rewarded. You know I didn't put on a rubber, don't you?"

"N-No," I lie.

"Oh, you know. And you fucking love it, just like last time. Maybe next time I'll take your pills away, too. Make sure when I feed this tight cunt with my seed, it’ll take it all."

I cry out a pathetic whimper. I've never been used and abused like this, fucked so hard I don't even remember how long it's been before I had a cock inside me. I'm a puppet now, doing anything he says. And I've never been more turned on in my life.

"Beg me to fill you up. Beg for my cum."

"Please," I manage.

"Properly." He slaps my pussy hard and I erupt in dry sobs. "No more fucking drama, Pet. Beg."

"Please, Jas... Fill me up, I want it."

"More."

"I want to drip with you... I want to feel your seed inside me when you leave."

"Good girl." He grabs my neck, his eyes connecting with mine as he drives himself inside me again, then stays in place. I feel his enormous cock throbbing in me, and it's enough to drive me wild. "Feel that, Petal? That's my cock fucking claiming you because you’re mine. Only mine."

He starts off slow, easing out of me, before slowly pushing all the way deep. He feels enormous. I know he’s ready to blow. I clench my pussy around him when he’s buried deep and it’s enough to make him hiss.

“Slut,” he says, tightening his grip on my throat as he fucks me fast until it really does feel like I’m on fire.

I come one last time as he unloads inside me. When he pulls out, he immediately replaces his cock with his fingers, fucking his hot cum into me.

"Don't let a drop go to waste," he tells me. "All of it inside you. Want it here, Pet? Want me to massage it into your clit?"

"Yes," I whisper. "Fuck it into me, too..."

"My greedy little slut." He watches in fascination as my body eagerly responds, then sighs, stepping away and pulling his pants up. "I'll be back for more, Pet. You're a good little rapeslut now. You'll do this for me again and again."

He undoes the handcuffs, and my arms lie limp by either side of me.

Jasper leaves a tender kiss on my cheek and whispering one last good girl in my ear.

Then, just like that, he's gone.

19

JASPER

The taste of my little Petal is still on my lips as I drive all the way to Wisconsin.

That’s a lie.

It’s not only her taste that stays with me. Her screams, her cries, her sobs still echo like music to my ears.

Who needs those studio-made sounds when I can play my little Petal like my custom-made instrument?

Now that I figured her buttons and saw her unravel, begging for more as I wrenched orgasm after orgasm from her, I won’t be able to stop.

Not now.

Not ever.

In order to go back to her, to light both our bodies on fire, I need to take care of this fucking ordeal first.

I tuck my little Petal’s taste and cries at the back of my mind where they join images of her spent, with a soft satisfied smile on her lips.

No idea why I want to see that smile over and over again.

That smile is only mine.

Just like my little Petal is.

I stop near a shabby old building on the outskirts of Wisconsin and put on black aviators. Instead of driving through the poor, shitty neighborhood, I leave the car at a public parking lot and walk the rest of the way.

The neighborhood isn’t only old and poor, but there’s a certain depression lurking in the air like another layer of atmosphere.

Curious glances fly my way and I try to walk normally without attracting any attention. This isn’t the Costas’ turf. There are other gangs, local and even Russian, and they don’t react well to the name. They won’t hesitate to come after me if they know Lucio Costa’s hitman is in town.

He might be feared, but he’s not liked and when the shit hits the fan, his enemies will always try to bring him down, not offer him a hand of help.

I’m risking a fucking gang war here. Some of those smudge-faced kids and the whores who pretend they want to give me head will tell their pimps and I’ll soon have a crowd on me.

These people always know when there’s a stranger in town.

So, I have little to no time to get the information I need and get the fuck out of here.

I step inside the bakery shop without making a sound. The two patrons at the table lift their heads. The waitress’s face is caught in what resembles a grimace and is in no way a smile.

“What can I get you, darlin’?” she asks in a thick accent.

“Sarah. Where is she?”

“S-Sarah?”

I pull out my gun and point it at her face. The two patrons scream and scramble out of the shabby bakery. The gangs are coming for me anyway, might as well make it worth their trip.

“Sarah,” I repeat. “Say one wrong word and your brain will be gone.”

The waitress’s face turns white as she points behind her with shaky fingers.

“I’m here.” A quiet voice pulls my attention.

A woman stands behind the counter, wiping her hands against her apron and wearing a serene expression. Her white hair is pulled into a bun under the kitchen cap and her wrinkled face eases as if she’s relieved.

She knew someone would come to find her one day, and to delay that as much as possible, she moved into a territory that doesn’t like the Costas.

Sarah Lisette, a former cook at the boarding school and a current nobody, but she’s smart. She knew to stay out of the Costas’ reach, but she kept close enough to Chicago to check on a certain someone.

I stride toward her and stop close enough that only the counter separates us. I place my gun on the marble, a clear threat that if she doesn’t tell me what I want to know, I won’t hesitate to kill her.

“You’ve grown, Jasper.” Her wrinkles crease as she smiles. “You used to like rocks, but it looks like you changed toys.”

Interesting. Not only does she remember me, but she also knows me. Weird that I don’t have a clear recollection of her, which means she did an excellent job at staying in the background.

“The new toys hurt more.” I finger the trigger of my gun, even though the safety is still on. “Don’t make me try it on you.”

She throws her hand around as she retrieves dough and proceeds to twist it. “I’m old, my boy. Death will come for me one way or another.”

“You get to decide whether it hurts or not.”

“No wonder he keeps you.” She shakes her head. “That fucking brat and his thirst for the best things never changed.”

She knows Lucio.

This is getting more interesting.

“Is that why you hid the boy from him? Because you knew he’d mold him into his thing?”

“Mold him?” She scoffs, her attention never wavering from the dough. “He wouldn’t have been able to with you in the picture.”

I freeze, my finger stopping at the trigger. I was hoping it isn’t true, but —

“Remember Joseph?” Her wrinkled eyes meet mine for the first time, they’re tired. So fucking tired. I haven’t seen tired eyes like hers in a long time. “You used to protect him, used to make the other boys eat dust before they laid a hand on him, and you didn’t care that you’d be punished for it.”

“Your point?”

“You’ve changed toys to hurt him now. You can’t expect me to tell you where he is.”

I pull the safety and point the gun at her head. “Then you’ll die with that knowledge.”

“Death doesn’t scare me.” She meets me head-on. “I signed my death certificate the moment I snatched Joseph from Costa’s blood pool and gave him a safe place to stay.”

“Safe place?” I chuckle without humor. “You might think yourself a saint, but you’re not. That fucking school was anything but safe. He was a weak little fucker and would’ve been raped then killed if he was left to fend for himself.

“But he had you.” Her wrinkles crease again, revealing crooked teeth as she smiles. “You don’t want to kill him.”

Doesn’t mean I won’t.

Joseph’s fate was sealed the moment Paolo shot his seed into his mother’s womb.

He will be killed either by me or Costa’s men. The only difference is that, if I do it, I get to live, if I don’t, Lucio will lose all trust in me and would turn the whole fucking city against me.

But Sarah doesn’t need to know that. We’re finally going somewhere and if she thinks I’ll protect him instead of killing him, she’ll talk.

I retrieve my gun and tuck it away.

Her hands work absentmindedly at the dough. “It wasn’t easy to get him to where he is today. He suffered a lot.”

Spare me the history lesson.

Still, I listen, with my hands clasped in front of me.

“After he left, his new family didn’t want him, because he was too quiet.”

I don’t remember Joseph being too quiet, he never shut the fuck up.

“He had a few foster homes until he graduated from high school.” She molds the dough into small shapes but doesn’t continue.

“Then?”

“Are you going to kill him?” She meets my eyes.

“No.” I don’t hesitate and for some reason, it doesn’t feel like a lie.

She nods sharply. “Return tonight and I might have something for you.”

“How about now?”

“George and his men will be here in two minutes. They’d love to send your corpse back to Lucio.” She raises an eyebrow. “You killed his brother three years ago.”

That George. Fuck.

“I’ll be back tonight.” I brush past her and into the kitchen.

“I was going to say use the back entrance.” She smiles. “Jasper?”

“What?” I throw one last glance at the old woman.

Her face creases into a smile. “Thank you for protecting Joseph back then. You’ll love the person he became.”

“Tonight.” I wave the gun between us and step out straight into the pouring fucking rain.

Fantastic.

I go into a back alley and take cover between two closed shops. No one is here, so I’m temporarily safe from George’s gang.

Retrieving my phone, I put on the listening devices I installed in my little Petal’s house.

I should’ve put cameras. I tuck that idea away for later use.

No sounds come out, which means she must be at her shift. A smile tugs at my lips as I think about the way she walked to her car this morning.

She was so sore, she had to take an hour off to have a bath. There’ll be a lot of baths in her future. I’m sure about that.

Baths with me, where she’ll be tucked all over my body as I make her soreness better and worse at the same time.

If obsession has degrees, I’m at the drunk stage where everything and anything is up for grabs.

And my little Petal is my poison.

I SPEND a few hours at the local library, going through public newspapers from the time Sarah saved Joseph.

There hasn’t been nation-wide news about the disappearance of a boy, and Joseph’s mother is still a mystery.

I know she was Paolo’s woman, but she was neither his wife nor his whore. He never married before or after her.

I don’t know why I think Joseph must look like her. He couldn’t have been with her since he was an orphan at the time, from the mother side at least.

The Costas were gods by then. Before that, they had the Vitallios up their asses, making them lose one deal after the other, then Emilio, Paolo and Lucio wiped them off the face of the earth in a cowardly mass shooting.

Since then, everyone else bows to the Costa power.

The other families don’t obey them out of respect, but out of fear. They know the Costas have no moral code or mercy and would do the same to them as they did to the Vitallios.

After a fruitless search in the newspapers, I quietly sneak into Sarah’s bakery through the back entrance. It’s early evening, but I don’t have time to waste.

I need to get this over with so I can go back and break my little Petal a little more, get under her skin a little more.

Problem is, she’s getting under my skin, too and there’s no way to stop that.

My feet halt of their own volition near the kitchen’s ajar door. The stench of something metallic and potent fills the air instead of baked goods.

Blood.

I flatten my back against the wall and bring out my gun as I slowly push the door open.

If that fucker George is starting something here—

“Took you long enough.” Lucio stands over a corpse, a scowl written on his face.

Beside him, Stephan and Marco grin, their hands bloodied, droplets smudging their faces and shirts.

Sarah —or what remains of her— lies cold on the floor, her head snapped, lolling to the side at an awkward angle. Her nails are chipped, an object protrudes from between her breasts. Her panties are bunched to her ankles, soaked in blood.

The fucking animals.

They raped an old woman dry in the ass. An old fucking woman.

I’m tempted to put bullets in their heads, but I force my hand to drop to my side and to wear the blank face I’m so good at.

“I needed her for information,” I say in a bored voice, but a fucking fire rages inside me.

She was the last person who knew me and Joseph.

“I got it myself.” Lucio kicks her lifeless corpse. “You’re getting sloppy, Jasper.”

“I found her, didn’t I? The cleaners,” I motion at Stephan and Marco, “only followed me here and took credit for my job.”

“A job you’re not doing well.” Lucio appears calm, but I know when he’s at his limit.

He’s been dreaming about being the leader since his father was alive, and now that he has it within reach, he won’t allow anything or anyone to sabotage it.

“What did she say?” I throw a fleeting glance at Sarah’s corpse.

She was loyal to Joseph, but considering the torture she endured, she must’ve talked. At a certain point of torture, the brain shuts down and will do anything to stop the pain.

“He’s in the city,” Lucio says. “He’s hidden well, so he could be in a safe house or under some fucking witness protection program.”

“Is that all she said?”

“What else should she have said?” he asks.

“Just asking.”

Interesting. Sarah knew exactly where Joseph was, and she contemplated telling me, thinking I’d protect him. But when Lucio was involved, she kept her loyalty until the bitter end.

She really was ready for death.

“What happened to his mother?” I rip my gaze away from her and focus on Lucio.

“Where is that question coming from?”

“She could be hiding him.”

“Impossible.” He clicks his tongue. “I killed that bitch with my own hands.”

So that option is out. Back to the drawing board.

“I’ll find him,” I tuck my gun away and turn around.

“You better.” Lucio’s voice echoes behind me. “I have strikes, too, Jasper, and this is your fucking last.”

20

GEORGINA

The ER has been full of cases that broke my heart all week. From battered girlfriends to hurt children, I've seen more than enough to put me in a miserable mood all night.

This time when I walk into my apartment, my new habit is already kicking in, and I check the place to make sure my stalker hasn't paid me another visit.

I'm almost convinced Jas hasn't been here until I walk into my bedroom. The little gift he left me is right there, on my pillow.

I approach the bed and pick up a lacy pair of red panties. There's also a note on the pillow. It's my first time seeing Jas' handwriting. It's scribbly and barely readable, and even though I'm supposed to be pissed at him, it makes me smile.

The note says, 'Put these on for me, I want to know you're wearing them. – Jas'

I stare at the scrap of lace before quickly slipping out of my jeans and the pale blue cotton panties I'm wearing. I slip on the red lace and an oversized T-shirt that barely covers my butt. The lace feels soft and inviting against my skin and keeps me thinking of things that shouldn't be on my mind as I settle in front of the TV.

I flip through the channels and absent-mindedly pet Mrs. Hudson while Mr. Bingley stares out of the window. I pick up my phone, trying to decide whether I should call him. My teeth dig into my bottom lip and I call his number on a whim.

I bet he won't pick up.

I banish the thought from my mind, but on the sixth ring, I've had enough.

I end the call and put the phone down, pretending it doesn't matter that Jasper is ignoring me again. But the pain is still there, and I can't focus on anything that evening.

When I come to terms with the fact that I won't be able to follow the TV, I grab my laptop and begin an internet search.

Jasper.

With a start, I realize I don't even know his last name. How the hell am I even supposed to find information on this guy when I barely know anything about him?

I try a different search.

Lucio, the man Jas was talking to in front of my building. Maybe I can dig up some dirt on him.

I try searching for Lucio and the city's name, but there's a billion results. Next, I narrow my search down to Lucio and rich. A list of the richest people in the city pops up, and I begin scouring the pages.

There's one entry that catches my interest, a man named Emilio Costa. He's not the guy that was in front of my building, but there's a definite family resemblance.

Searching for Emilio Costa, I learn of his recent passing and the fact that his successors are two sons – and one of them is named Lucio.

Got you.

I search for Lucio Costa next, learning more and more about Jas' employer. He's a business magnate, but there are some articles about shady dealings in his company, some ties to mafia. Nothing proven yet, but the hint of suspicion is enough to send my heart racing.

I search for Lucio Costa again, adding Jasper's name. A picture pops up, it must be at least ten years old, because Jasper looks different in it, younger, more troubled.

I inspect the photo, in which he's protecting the Lucio guy like a bodyguard. So, the debt he spoke about must go years back, if he was already protecting this guy a decade ago.

Jasper's last name is right there in print – Jasper Cain.

Knowing this about him sends shivers down my spine, and when I search for him, my fingers shake above the keyboard.

There are articles about him, but they’re mostly shaded, speculative, all filled with rumors. Then, in article, a place I know too well pops up.

Vita Boarding School.

Goosebumps erupt all over my skin when I read that name, repeating it out loud.

I know Vita Boarding School, if only from faint memories and what others have told me.

My doorbell buzzes and I ignore the pounding of my own heart, pushing away the laptop and heading to the intercom.

"Who is it?"

"Hey, um, Georgie?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Bill. From, um, the hospital?"

"Oh," I manage. "Hey, Bill. What are you doing here?"

Please, please, don't let him be here because he's into me. I cannot handle turning him down.

"I brought you your wallet. You left it at the hospital on the lunch table today."

"What? Oh, thank you so much. Please come up." I buzz him through and check my purse. Sure enough, my wallet isn't there.

Shoving my laptop under the sofa pillows, I quickly check my phone as well, but there's still nothing from Jasper.

By the time I'm done, the doorbell rings, and I open the door to find Bill looking nervous.

"Thank you so much," I rush to say, ushering him in. "I had no idea I left it behind, I swear, I'm so scatter-brained sometimes..."

I notice him staring and only then remembering my shirt is barely long enough to cover my butt.

"Shit," I mutter. "Let me just change really quick."

"Sure," Bill chuckles, and I tell him to sit down in the living room while I quickly put on some yoga pants.

I return a moment later, putting on the kettle and offering Bill some tea. He accepts, and I sigh inwardly. I don't really want him to stick around – I want Jas to come back. But it would be rude after he returned my wallet, so I just bite back my worries.

We settle on the sofa with our mugs, and Bill pets an indifferent Mrs. Hudson.

"So, I'm sorry to just drop by unannounced," Bill smiles while I blow on my tea. "But I figured you wouldn't want to drive without your license. And, I just wanted to check and see how you've been doing."

"I'm okay. Why?"

"Well..." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, giving me an apologetic glance. "I’m worried, Georgie. What happened at the club was a mess.”

It's kind of weird that I'm not used to people calling me Georgie anymore, and with a start, I realize I prefer Petal or Pet.

"What about it?" I ask stiffly, taking a sip of my tea.

"Er, your friend, he punched me? I’m worried about you.” I can still see the bruise on his cheek. He reaches for my hand, but I snatch it away. "Look, I'm not here to interrogate you, Georgie. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Is this guy being weird?"

"Not at all," I reply crisply. "In fact, you're the one who's out of line here, Bill."

"Don't say that." He sets his cup down and I grimace when he reaches for me again. This seems to upset him. "I thought we were friends, Georgie. That we told each other things."

How am I supposed to explain everything changed in a matter of days? That all I think about now is Jasper, even with his history and mystery and killer ties.

He’s the only one that’s occupying my mind, and I have no idea what that says about me.

"We do," I manage. "But I like to keep my personal life private."

"Look, I'm just saying this guy might not be the best news."

"And I'm saying I'd appreciate it if you didn't butt into my business." I set my mug down and cross my arms. "Now, is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Um..." He shifts in his seat again. "Well, Georgie... You know I've always... That I had... That I..."

"Yes?" I'm being a bitch, but I just want him out of here.

"I like you," he finally blurts out. "I want to get to know you better. I want to take you out on a date."

"Oh," I manage lamely.

"Yeah," he chuckles, nervous. "You know I've had a crush on you for a while now, right?"

Of course I do, but instead of embarrassing him, I just shrug.

"Well, I'd love to take you out to dinner. I went as far to ask Dinah and Katya," he laughs. "I know how close you all are, and they said you had some bad experiences lately, with the doctor, and this club guy..."

I curse inwardly. Damn Katya and Dinah. I know they want the best for me, but a date with Bill is so not on the cards for me.

"I..." I start, but Bill holds a finger up. I hate that, but I obediently quieten down.

"I just really want to show you there are still good guys around, Georgie."

"I'm sure," I reply. "And I know there's a girl out there who would appreciate the sentiment so much, Bill... But unfortunately, it just isn't me."

He pales, then a blush creeps into his cheeks. "Oh, I see."

"Yeah, and... I'm kind of... involved with someone at the moment." My own cheeks flush.

"Oh. The club guy?" He raises a doubtful brow at me.

"Does it matter?" I ask.

"Are you dating?"

I grit my teeth together, hating the fact that I don't actually know the answer.

"Thought so. Please, Georgie. Reconsider. I'd take such good care of you. Make you feel like a princess."

But I don't want to feel like a princess.

I want to feel like a slut.

"Thanks," I say. "I'm afraid I have to say goodnight now. I'm beat after my shift and I really need some rest."

"Sure.” He gets up from the couch. "You're welcome, about the wallet, by the way."

"I already said thank you.”

"Yeah, but..."

"Bye, Bill." I open the front door and look at him expectantly.

He blows out a gust of air and shakes his head, "I just think this guy is no good for you, Georgie. I'm going to keep an eye out whether you like it or not. I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm fine. Now, please."

He steps outside and launches into another speech. "You deserve so much better, Georgie. Someone who will take care of you, and –"

“Goodnight, Bill.” He doesn't get to finish his sentence, because I've already closed the door.

With a huff, I sit back down on the couch. I don't have time to deal with another problem right now, and besides, Bill's wrong. Jasper isn't bad for me.

He's exactly what I've always wanted.

21

JASPER

My mood is black as the night throughout my drive back to the city. Considering my volatile mood and all the dark thoughts swirling in my head, I should’ve worked out, blown off some steam; should’ve done something.

Instead, I find myself in my little Petal’s apartment. Again.

The inability to stay away has morphed from mere discomfort to being physically impossible.

After seeing Marco drag Sarah’s mutilated body out, my head is filled with the blood from the scene.

Since I couldn’t spill his own blood, I’m ready to spill something else, break it, maim it, fucking destroy it.

The fat orange cat greets me with a low mewl from his position on the couch. I ignore him and stride to the bedroom, undoing the first buttons of my shirt.

My little Petal is in deep sleep, on her side, the sheet has fallen to her waist, revealing her cotton, sleeveless robe. Even though it’s dark, the moonlight from outside casts a pale hue on her skin, making it blue and up for the taking.

The entire way here, she was the only thing I could think about.

I hate it. I fucking despise it, but it’s there like a goddamn constant.

There’s no way in fuck I’ll be able to get her out of my head any time soon and for that, she has to pay.

I have to pay, too, for not being able to push her out of my system after all this time.

I don’t make a sound as I take off my clothes and lie them on the chair by her desk, hiding the gun and knife.

My little Petal might know what I do, but I don’t want to shove it in her face just yet. She already pulls away from me after sex, letting her walls go up and her doubts consume her.

I’ll ease her into it... slowly.

The mattress dips as I lie behind her, leaning on an elbow and slowly peeling the covers off her. The robe has risen to under her ass, and I can’t help reaching beneath the cloth.

She’s wearing the red lace panties I picked for her. I peel them off slowly, careful not to wake her.

I stifle a groan as my fingers lie flat on her shaved pussy. Did my little Petal watch one of her fantasies tonight? Did she miss how I owned every part of her?

Now that I know what pushes her buttons, I’ll keep heightening the intensity until either she breaks, or I do.

Pulling her long black hair to the side, my lips find the shell of her ear, lightly brushing over the warm skin. A slight moan emits from her and she absentmindedly reaches a hand to her tit, caressing the flesh ever so gently until the nipple hardens against the cloth.

Fuck me.

I wrap a hand around her throat from behind and thrust two fingers inside her in one go.

She gasps, her eyes flying open.

“What—” she starts but my ruthless grip around her windpipe stops her mid-sentence.

Her body jerks into fight mode, her nails scratching against my hands so hard they cut the skin. The sting registers, but it doesn’t stop me. If anything, I revel in the fucking pain as I inflict mine.

“The harder you fight me, the wetter you get, Pet,” I whisper at her ear, thrusting my fingers mercilessly into her hot cunt.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head, probably on the verge of an orgasm. Or maybe it’s because she realized it’s me. I don’t allow myself to think that, but it registers anyway.

My dick thickens at the thought that she’s turned on by my force, my presence.

She’s still scratching at my hand, but her hips jerk, following the rhythm of my fingers, wanting more, needing more.

Being attacked and liking it.

What am I, if not a good sport?

I pump my fingers inside her, simultaneously teasing her clit hard and fast. Her mouth falls in a wordless scream as she clenches around me.

My dick strains against her ass, demanding a turn.

Her nails dig into my skin, but her struggles disappear as she rides her orgasm. My little Petal turns into an obedient good girl when she’s coming, especially if it’s an intense long wave like this one.

I pull out of her and place both fingers at her lips, circling their fullness, making them glisten with her arousal.

She opens and sucks them inside.

“Good girl.”

She releases a soft moan as I stroke my fingers against her tongue, coating it and making her taste both of us. Her skin heats and her hair sticks to her nape due to the force of her release.

Her eyes flutter closed, probably thinking she can go back to dreamland.

I release her neck and yank her T-shirt over her head. She lets me before her head falls back on the pillow. It’s like she thinks this is a dream and now she can have her sleep back.

Time to prove her wrong.

The hickeys I left on the flesh of her collarbone and breasts are fading away. I have to fix that.

Her pink-tipped tits have a bluish hue under the moon’s light and her soft curves appear prominent from this view. I run a finger from her side to her hip and down to her thigh, sampling, imagining all the things I can and will do to her body.

“You know, you really shouldn’t have smiled at me that day,” I say.

She hums in her sleep, her ass pushing against me as if thinking she can snuggle there and end it at that.

Think again, my little Petal.

Without warning, I yank both her hands behind her back and tie her wrists up with her nightgown.

Her eyes open again, voice heavy with sleep. “J-Jasper?”

“Who the fuck did you think made you come just now?”

“That... that wasn’t a dream?”

“A dream? You think you can come that hard in a dream?”

“No... yes... I don’t know. Wait... did you just choke me?” she asks with an incredulous tone.

Now that she’s not blanketed by sleep, she’s trying to build her walls again.

Shut me down.

Pull away from me.

“I get to choke you, use you, abuse you and do whatever the fuck I please, my pet.”

“Fuck you, Jasper.”

“I’ll be the one who will fuck you.” I lift her leg up and thrust balls deep insider her. A shudder grips her entire body due to the force of my hips.

Her hands jerk as if to stop me, but they’re bound. She’s tied down, helpless and completely at my mercy.

She groans and twists her neck as if that will help her get rid of me.

“Stop it,” she pants, even as her ass brushes over my balls, demanding more. “Get out of my life.”

“That’s the point, Pet. Neither of us wants me out.”

“I d-do.” She moans when I hit her sensitive spot.

“And yet you’re soaking my dick.” I push her hair to the side then fist it in a tight grip, tugging her by it and forcing her to look back at me. “Admit it, Pet, I’m your fantasy come true.”

Her lips tremble with the force of her pleasure. She wants to hold back but can’t. My little Petal craves this as much as I do, she dreams about it and tucks it in the dark corner of her head.

Still, her politically correct mind refuses to accept this.

“Fuck you, fuck you,” she chants.

“Gladly.”

I slap her ass over and over until she sobs. But I don’t end it there, no, I drive my cock into her fast and hard and dirty.

All what happened today pours into this moment of madness and utter surrender. This moment where it’s only me and my little Petal.

My disobedient, yet willing Petal.

My innocent, yet kinky Petal.

Her ass turns a bright shade of red that soothes me and makes her cunt a wet mess, her juices coating my dick to the brim.

My hand wraps around her throat, firm enough to keep her in place.

My little Petal is completely at my mercy, bound and choked, her ass red, and her pussy clenched around me in preparation for her orgasm.

I slow down my pace, one hand clutching her hip, easing out of her so slow that she shudders.

Her teary eyes widen. “W-why did you stop?”

“I thought you wanted me to, Pet.”

“J-Jas, don’t, don’t…”

“Don’t what? Don’t give you what you want?”

“Yeah, don’t give me what I want.”

“So, I shouldn’t let you come or I shouldn’t let you go?”

“Screw you, jerk,” she groans with the force of her frustration. Her ass wiggles against me, desperate for more than the lazy stroke.

“Do you want me to give it to you hard and fast, Pet?”

She bites her lower lip but doesn’t say anything.

“We can stay like this all night, or you can pick a side,” I whisper at her ear. “You can’t be a good little girl and my slutty little pet at the same time.”

She sniffles, but her eyes are clear even in the dark. “Why can’t I be?”

Fuck me.

The way she asks the question, the innocence and the damn curiosity, get me in the groin.

My little Petal is out to destroy my fucking head.

“Why do you keep doing that?” I push my cock back into her, my frustration getting the better of me.

“Doing what?” she asks on a gasp.

“Pulling me in. Refusing to let me go. All of it.”

“You tell me. You’re the one who does that. You’re sick, Jasper.”

“And you’re just as sick,” I whisper at her ear.

Her head angles towards me, lips parting as if wanting me to kiss them.

I’m tempted to, fuck am I tempted to, but I know the moment my lips meet hers, I’ll be even more screwed than I already am.

If she’s disappointed, she doesn’t show it, as she moans my name while my cock slides deep.

“Break for me, my pet.” I groan in her ear. “Now.”

She does.

Just like that.

Her body combusts and she screams as she clenches around me. I fuck my little slut hard and fast and don’t ease up until I’m pumping my seed into her. My release is so strong, cum coats her thighs and pools on the sheets below us.

As her head falls on the pillow, a satisfied sigh leaving her lips, a dark thought crosses my mind.

I’ll never get enough of my little Petal.

She’s right, I’m sick.

Because I can only see death parting us.

22

GEORGINA

We're lying in my bed after, and Jas holds me almost painfully close, like he's trying to fuse our bodies together.

It’s a strange type of closeness, something I never had before. Despite the brutality of our fucking, it still feels intimate. Otherworldly even. I’m ready to strip myself bare for him – more than I already have, and that mere thought scares the shit out of me.

"Had a strange visit today." The words surprise me by slipping from my lips. Fuck. It's like I want to get in trouble with Jas, like I'm desperately asking for him to punish me.

"Yeah?" he mutters, tugging on a stray strand of my hair. “Who?”

I chuckle nervously, hoping he won't push it further and already regretting my words. "You don't really like him."

"Him?" Jasper sits up in bed, his naked body hard and taut. "It was a him?"

"Yeah," I say softly. "Just a nurse from the hospital, Bill."

"And why the fuck is Bill visiting you at home?"

"I forgot my wallet at lunch, and he was just bringing it back to me."

“Isn’t he that same fucker I punched at the club?”

I sit up in bed, pulling the sheets up around me. “Yeah, so?”

Jas gets up and pulls on his boxers, running his fingers through his dark brown hair. "I don't like it."

"Don't like what?" I raise my eyebrows at him. "That my friend returned my wallet?"

"That you have some other fucking guy coming to visit you in your apartment." He paces to the window, opening the drapes wide. Moonlight streams into the room as he groans. "I don't fucking like it, Pet. What did you tell him?"

"What was I supposed to tell him? Oh, there's some crazy ass stalker guy who gets insanely possessive and jealous when I so much as talk to other men?"

"Yes," Jas growls. "Or something to that effect.”

“Well, I did tell him something.”

His icy gaze fix me. “What?”

"That I was..." I swallow. "Involved with someone."

"You're not involved with someone."

His words make my heart sink and I glance at him, swallowing again. "Then what am I?"

"You're fucking owned by someone. You're mine, Petal. Did you tell him that?"

I have to fight the urge to smile, covering my mouth and pretend-coughing. "No, I didn't."

"So, he thinks you're fucking available?" Jas looks like he's about to break something.

"Well, am I not?" I hiss in response, throwing the covers off me and getting out of bed, too. I'm still naked, and I can feel Jas' eyes devouring me as I storm out of the room.

He catches up fast, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me against him as he growls, "Don't walk away from me."

"What should I have told him, Jasper?" I demand. "That I'm single?"

"You're not fucking single."

"Then what? Am I your girlfriend? Your lover? Will there ever be some sort of title to our relationship? Is it even a relationship?"

He hesitates, and the moment is long enough for me to tear myself free of his grip. I storm off, hating him more than I ever have. He races behind me and tries to grab me again. I don't let him hold on, and I rip myself out of his reach.

"Just stop it, Jas. Enough."

"Enough of what?"

"This... bullshit!" I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. "You're acting like you own me, but you won't even call me your girlfriend. What kind of man traps a woman, not letting her meet other people but won’t give whatever we have a title?"

"The kind that isn't letting you walk away from this." He backs me up into a corner and my back flattens against the wall. "You're mine, Petal, whether you admit it or not."

"All you've done so far is give me whiplash.”

"And make your wildest fantasies come true." He smirks. I don't need the fucking reminder and he knows as well as I do, if he reached between my legs right now, his fingers would get wet. "Fight it all you want, but you're obsessed with me, too."

"I'm not," I murmur.

"Oh, you are. You can't help it."

I roll my eyes. I don't want to argue with Jasper again, but he's getting on my last nerve.

"Maybe I should leave you be for a while," he says thoughtfully. "Let you deal with your own problems. You need to learn how to take better care of yourself, anyway."

My breathing catches. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe you should go on a date with Bill," he delivers the punch, making my heart and my head hurt. "Maybe it would be better for you to date a normal, regular guy."

"But..." I don't finish my sentence. Jas heads back into the bedroom and I follow in his footsteps, shaking all over. I want to hurt him. Scratch him. At the same time, I want to beg him to stay, to keep me, but I'm too afraid to so much as open my mouth.

I watch silently as he pulls on his jeans, and then looks over to me, saying. “Maybe it’s time to end the fantasy. It wouldn’t have lasted anyway."

Those times I was thrown out from my foster homes play in a loop at the back of my head, then the times my last two boyfriends broke up me, then all the times anyone and anything I cared about abandoned me.

Something snaps inside me then, and I lose it.

"You fucking jerk! How can you say that to me? How can you fucking abandon me, you monster? You're just like everyone else! Just like everyone who's left me!" I approach him and start slamming my fists against his chest, cursing him out, screaming at the top of my voice. "I hate you, Jas, I'll never forgive you, never forget this, you sick bastard!"

Jasper does his best to stop me, but when it doesn't work, he simply grabs me and throws me over his shoulder. "If you're not going to calm down right now, I'm going to force you in the shower and hose you down, Petal."

It only makes me crazier, and when I'm kicking him, my foot lands right in his crotch. Jasper groans, and though he must be in excruciating pain, he still sets me down softly, trying to make sure I'm okay before holding his bulge and cursing out loud.

"Fuck me, you've got a kick on you, Pet."

I launch myself at him again, but this time, he tries to calm me down with soft whispers, his voice just as soothing as his touch. He runs his hands over my hair to make me feel better, but it only makes me angrier. I thought that one snap would be it, but it keeps happening, and I keep breaking, falling apart over and over again.

I'm sobbing, and I collapse on the floor with tears flooding my vision. "Just go, Jasper, just go, please, just let me go."

"No." His answer is firm as he kneels next to me. "I'm making sure you're okay."

I can't stop crying, and I can't stop my instincts either. Unfortunately, my body is convinced Jas is out to hurt me, to abandon me like everyone else, and I start kicking him again, screaming, scratching. My long nails dig into his skin and he curses out loud as I continue my vicious attack.

"Petal, calm down. It's all going to be okay," he tells me in his calmest voice. "I'm here, baby, I'm here." He pulls me against him, flattening my arms against my body and holding me so tight I can barely move a limb. Strangely, feeling restricted like that helps. It means I don't have to worry about protecting myself – Jas has got that part down pat.

"I hate you," I get out through sobs.

"I know you do, Pet, I know you do." We're sitting on the floor, with Jas' back against the door and me shaking and trembling in his arms. "You don't have to hate me, though. But you can if it helps, okay? I'm here to make it better, Petal. See? I'm already making it better."

He's right. I've stopped resisting him, though the sobs are still racking through my body.

"Can you see how I'm helping?" he asks, and I nod. His arms tighten around me in a constricting hug. I don't know how he's doing this, but the cloud slowly seeps away. "Look how much better it feels when you let me help, Petal. Just relax, okay? Sink into this. Let me hold you."

He forces my arms down for the umpteenth time and I let him, a giggle ripping from my lips amid all the sobs. It doesn't escape Jasper's notice, and he kisses the top of my head before gently going on, trying to calm me down.

"That's a good girl, Pet, you're being so good. You're going to start feeling even better now. Almost back to normal. Almost back there. You feel it?"

"I feel i-it," I stutter, my voice painfully hoarse from all the crying.

"Good girl. It was just an anxiety attack. We can deal with those."

The way he says we makes my heart soar, but the memories of the rest of the night are still too sore in my head. I push him away and stumble when I pick myself up. Jas reaches for me, but I shake my head, signaling that I'm fine. He rises to his feet too, keeping a safe distance from me, probably in case I attack him again.

"You're the only one who's ever managed to calm me down after an anxiety attack," I mutter.

"Really? What about your parents?" he wonders out loud.

Instantly, my expression is replaced by a grimace and I motion for him not to go there.

"Sorry, Petal."

"It's fine." I sigh, my voice still broken and my throat sore from the crying. "Jas, I need you to leave."

"I don't want to leave when you're feeling like this."

"I'll be fine," I promise him. "I've dealt with it plenty of times before. Thanks for your help, but I can handle it from here."

"As you wish. I'll see you soon."

"Jas..." He looks at me and I stare at the floor. It's too fucking painful. "It's over."

"What the fuck do you mean?"

"I mean I can't do this anymore." My voice is trembling, and I'm scared of his reaction, but I force myself to go on. "It's over, Jas."

I expect a reaction from him. Anger, jealousy. But there's nothing. He merely smiles and nods before grabbing his clothes off the bed and getting dressed again. I watch him with crossed arms, my heart beating fast as I quickly blurt. "I just want everything to go back to the way it was before."

"Of course," he replies, his voice so calm it cuts through me. "I'll give you what you want, Petal."

I watch in silence as he gets dressed, then walk him to the door. He doesn't say a word as I open it, and he leaves without looking back. He never says goodbye, and I lock the door behind me, wiping off a stray tear.

That's it, then.

Over.

Just the way I wanted it.

THE NEXT MORNING, it feels like I have a piece missing.

I go about my morning routine, but my mind is elsewhere. I'm thinking about him. Jasper. I miss him, and it hurts.

I drive to the hospital that morning and park in the lot behind the building. As I'm getting out of the car, I feel the prickling at the back of my neck again, as if someone's watching me.

Glancing around the parking lot, I don't see anyone but a few other nurses getting ready to start their workday. But then there's a movement to my right, and I look straight at him.

Jasper.

He's standing there, leaning casually against his car.

He sees me watching, and when our eyes connect, he smirks at me.

Did he follow me again?

I don't walk up to him to ask. Instead, I head for the hospital, my heart pounding with unanswered questions.

Bill greets me and I greet him back, pretending not to have notice Jasper as we walk up to the ER.

I smile to myself as I enter the building, and this time, it's genuine.

Looks like he isn't done with me, after all.

23

JASPER

I stare at my handiwork with a smile on my face.

Or maybe, it’s a sneer.

All I know is that when my little Petal comes home today, a different type of surprise will be waiting for her.

The cats roam around me, touching the metal and feeling it up. They need to stay out when my plan comes into play.

My phone vibrates, and I curse under my breath when I see Lucio’s name.

“Jasper Cain.”

“How far are you?” There’s no pause whatsoever. No, ‘How is it going?’. Not that I would expect that from Lucio —he’s all about his personal gain and business.

“Tracking him down. He’s working in one of the companies downtown. I need information about employers.”

“And? I can’t see why this is taking you so long. You have the Costa name and that will get you any information you need.”

“Not all. Some companies have strict policies.”

“Then fucking torture the information out of them.”

“On it.”

“You only have days before I take the matter into my hands.”

The line goes dead.

The thing about the employer is true. From what Sarah mentioned, Joseph clearly works in the city, and he’s hidden enough to go unnoticed, which could mean he’s either working for the Costas or the Costas’ allies. The best ploy to be hidden from an enemy is to sneak into their compound.

But that’s as much as I have.

I might have been slacking because of the maddening obsession with my little Petal. Or because deep down, I have no interest in slaughtering Joseph.

The sooner I find him, the sooner he’s dead.

If it comes to his life versus mine, it’s definitely going to be his.

The locks turns and my muscles tighten with a different type of emotions —anticipation, fucking thrill.

I drop the phone into my jacket pocket as I tiptoe to the entrance.

The cats run toward the door, mewling and asking for attention. I gave them food so they wouldn’t interfere tonight.

“How have you been, guys? I missed you so much.” My little Petal hunches over to scratch under their jaws, her voice is soft and small.

My dick hardens, throbbing with arousal, and I don’t bother to readjust it, letting it revel in anticipation at what’s about to go down.

My little Petal doesn’t notice me as I slowly creep behind her. I’m so quiet, even the cats don’t pay me attention, focusing on the petting they’re getting.

She rises to her feet. “Today was busy, I feel so exhausted and could use a bath and —”

Her words cut off when I wrap a hand around her mouth from behind, my chest gluing to her back until my hard cock nuzzles against her ass.

And yes, I’m already naked.

A muffled groan slips from her mouth as she struggles against me. Her bag falls to the ground, its contents spilling on the floor causing the cats to escape in different directions.

My other hand yanks both her arms behind her back, binding them by the wrists. My voice is low and threatening as I whisper in her ear, “Good evening, Pet.”

A shudder goes through her body and sweat sticks her hair to her nape. For a second, her eyes light up with a sick type of pleasure. If I reached under her jeans, I’m sure she’d soak my fingers.

But that’s not for now.

She goes back to struggling, wiggling sideways and groaning. It’s her kink, the fight, the knowledge that she has nowhere to go even if she tried.

“The more you do that,” I murmur against the shell of her ear as I thrust my hips, letting my cock nestle against her jeans. “The harder I’ll get for you, the more merciless I’ll fuck you, the dirtier I’ll break you.”

Her mouth trembles against my hand, but instead of submitting like a good Pet, she chooses the other road, the one where I promised I’ll fuck her hard and merciless.

The fight in her tiny limbs heightens tenfold and her back arches as she tries to free her hands, to kick me, scratch me.

“Good girl,” I say, and I could swear a soft moan escapes her.

Using my hold on her mouth and wrists, I pull her to the middle of the living room. Her feet drag on the wooden floor as she tries to push me off, to deny that she doesn’t like this.

“You know, the more you talk to other men in front of me, the crueler I become about owning you. But perhaps that’s what you want, my pet.” I remove my hand from her mouth and release her hair, letting the black strands fall to her shoulders before I push them to one side.

“N-no,” she pants, her head tilting slightly. “Why do you keep doing this, Jasper?”

“Doing what? Making your fantasies come true?”

“Fucking with me, invading my space.”

“None of this would’ve happened if you weren’t with that fucker yesterday. You know how crazy I get when someone touches you, you know I’m capable of cold-blooded murder, and yet you still fucking provoke me.” I curl her strands against my hand in a fist and tug her back by it so her flushed face is completely focused on mine. “You’re a tease, aren’t you, Pet?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you will. When I’m done with you tonight, you won’t think about any other man but me. You’ll be begging for my cock and you won’t get it.”

Her breath hitches as I direct her head to my handiwork. A small metal cage sits in the corner. It will barely fit her, but it’ll be the perfect punishment for her.

The way her body trembles is enough evidence that deep down, in the corners of her soul, she’s curious about this. She wants to know how it feels.

“You know what that is?” I lick the shell of her ear before I bite down on it, eliciting a whimper from her.

“Don’t,” her voice is pleading, scared.

Good.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do this.” Her eyes dart between me and the cage.

“It feels better than watching it on those porn sites. I can promise you that, Pet.”

Her cheeks redden, shamed by her fantasies.

“Stop talking about that.” Her voice is spooked as if she were caught sinning by a priest.

“You don’t have to hide yourself from me. You’re all mine, the good and the dark and the fucked up.”

Even her anxiety attacks are mine. Everything about her is.

I push her head down against the sofa, making sure the cage is in view. When she orgasms, I want her to know what the end is going to be. It won’t be a fairytale with a happy ever after, it’ll be a cage with cold metal. I want her to think about all her fantasies and realize they’re nothing compared to what I can do to her.

With her knees on the ground and her upper body leaning against the couch, I hold her down with my fist on her hair and release her wrists.

She doesn’t fight as I expect her to. Well, well. My little Petal is eager for this.

Her nails dig into the sofa, waiting for the inevitable, or probably excited for it.

One way to find out.

I yank down her jeans and panties then throw them away. Her pale ass comes into view, still a little bruised from the other night’s spanking. I bring my hand down on it again, to make sure she always has my marks on her. She cries out, her nails sinking into the couch.

Her arousal coats the air and I inhale it in with a smirk on my lips. “What turns you on, Pet?” I grab her ass cheek then hit it again, relishing in the sting of flesh against flesh. “The spanking?” I thrust two fingers inside her wet cunt. “The pain?” I release her and rip her blouse and bra off her. “The fucking helplessness?”

She’s panting so hard, her full tits crush back against the couch as she lies her head on the leather, her cheeks red.

“Answer me.” I pull her back by the hair, so she’s tilted in my direction.

“Just do it, Jasper.” her body is coated with perspiration, anticipation, and the excitement of the unknown.

“Not until you answer. What turns you on, Pet?”

“You.” The word falls from her lips like a prayer.

I almost shoot my load over her ass there and then.

Fuck. It’s a simple word and yet it fucks me up like no other.

“Me?” I ask.

“Yes, you. I wouldn’t have been this turned on if it was someone else. It’s not about the fantasy.” She draws an involuntary breath. “It’s about the person fulfilling the fantasy. You.”

Me.

I slam inside her in one rough go and she screams. Just like that, she fucking comes by penetration alone. That’s a new level even for her.

My little Petal was so stimulated, she only needed a touch to detonate.

“You’re mine, Pet.” I fist my hand around her hair and pull her by it. “Don’t act like you aren’t. Don’t fucking let others close to what I own.”

She’s still coming down when I pull out, cutting off her orgasm.

“W-what? Why did you stop?”

“Because you don’t get my cock after what you did.” It was a spur of the moment thing anyway. I wasn’t supposed to fuck her at all tonight, but after she said those words, I lost control.

Which is becoming my modus operandi around this woman.

I slap her ass again and she yelps, a soft sob tearing from her lips.

She doesn’t tell me to stop though. If anything, her ass wiggles in my direction.

Kneeling behind her, I pull her cheeks apart and thrust my tongue against her swollen cunt.

She bucks off and I slap her ass. “Don’t move.”

Her fingers go back to helplessly clutch the sofa as I lap my tongue against her slit, her juices coat my lips as I thrust it inside, tongue-fucking her, owning her.

She tries to wiggle against me, demanding to continue her earlier release, but I slap her ass twice and she immediately stops.

“You want more, Pet?”

“Yes, yes…”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t let others close to what’s mine.”

“I won’t... I promise.”

“You promise, huh?”

“Yes, please, Jasper. Please.”

Those words, the begging, my name on her trembling lips is my encouragement. I tease her clit with my thumb as I thrust my fingers harder and more mercilessly into her hot pussy.

She convulses all around me, her slick wetness coating my fingers as she comes. Her moan is muffled against the couch, her nails digging into the material as if it’s a lifeline. Like she’s falling, and I’ll be the only one who catches her or lets her drop. Which is true.

I don’t stop as she comes down from her orgasm. My tongue and fingers take turns in thrusting in and out of her until she moans again, this time it’s tired, but it’s not less wanton.

“Stop, stop!” she cries, trying to push off the couch, but I pin her in place on the ground and wrench another orgasm out of her with my tongue.

It’s quicker this time. Her body is so used to my touch, she’s easily stimulated, easily brought to the heights of pleasure.

Easily mine.

Fucking mine.

By the third orgasm, she’s sobbing, tears streaking down her cheeks. I stand up and she lies slumped on the couch sideways. Her hands are limp by her sides, her tits are coated with sweat, and her nipples are hard like pebbles.

But the look in her eyes, fuck, the look in those storms.

She stares up at me with a half-lidded gaze, utterly satisfied, a little scared, but satisfied.

She’s still sniffling from the force of her orgasms. Her entire body is flushed red, and her hair sticks to her nape with sweat.

And then she does something. My little Petal turns around and pulls her body up so she’s sitting on the ground and opens her legs. It’s the slightest opening, but it’s enough to give me a full fucking view of the glistening pussy I devoured seconds ago.

She glances at my hard cock, bites her lower lip then looks away, cheeks coated in crimson.

Fuck me.

It’s her way to ask me to fuck her. She’s stimulated to the point she begged me to stop, but she still wants me to fuck her.

“Look at me.”

She slowly does and I wipe my mouth, making her watch me run my tongue over the evidence of her arousal.

My little Petal’s lips part and she never breaks eye contact.

“You want my cock inside you, Pet?”

She says nothing, seemingly entranced by how I lick her off me.

“Answer and I might consider it.” I make a show of sucking on the fingers that were inside her.

“I d-do.”

“Say it.”

“I-I want your cock.”

“Where?”

“Inside me.” She lowers her gaze. “I want you inside me.”

“Even when you’re sore?”

“Y-yes.” She’s ashamed of that, but she can’t stop it, even if she wants to.

My hand runs up and down my length and her eyes follow my every movement with longing —deep, fatal and out of control.

“Too bad you don’t deserve it after going in the hospital with Bill when I was right there.”

Her gray eyes snap to mine, a slight furrow between her brows.

“You have an objection, Pet?”

She bites her lower lip but says nothing.

“You think you deserve being fucked after that stunt with the nurse?”

“Jasper…” she whispers and trails off before saying it’s not fair.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

She gives me a quizzical look, her eyes never leaving my cock as I pump it up and down in an angry rhythm.

A second passes before she sucks in an audible breath and falls to her knees, trembling and spent, but still so fucking beautiful.

“Crawl to the cage.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me.”

“But—”

“Crawl.” The word is firm and non-negotiable.

Her lower lip trembles, but she does as she’s told, only stopping to watch me angrily tugging on my dick.

It’s demanding her heat, to use her, to be with her, but this is her punishment. She’ll suffer even if I have to be tortured, too.

My little Petal stops in front of the open door and stares up at me. Her gaze is innocent, almost too innocent. It reminds me of someone, but who?

“Inside.”

“I won’t fit in there,” she murmurs.

“Yes, you will. Bend your knees.”

She does as she’s told until she’s safely tucked inside, holding her knees to her chest.

“Close it.” I stand in front of her.

Her trembling fingers latch onto the door and she pulls it closed.

I tug harder and faster on my dick as I watch her, vulnerable, naked, and all fucking mine.

“I could’ve fucked you tonight,” I groan with the anger I feel.

“Then do it.”

“No. You made a mistake.”

“Jasper, please.” She stares between me and my dick, seeing that I’m close.

“Open your legs and your mouth.”

She complies, a sliver of excitement on her face.

“Are you mine, Pet?”

“I-I am.”

“Repeat it.”

“I’m yours.”

“Just mine?”

“Just yours.”

I come then.

My shoulders and ass tighten with the force of my release. My cum splatters through the bars of the cage, covers her mouth, lips, tits and drips down her legs.

She’s marked and all mine.

Her eyes draw downward with obvious disappointment even though she licks her lips —licks me.

I reach through the bars and smear my cum over her mouth then thrust two fingers inside, making her suck them.

When they’re clean, she releases the digits with a pop.

“Good girl.”

“I hate you.” A tear slides down her cheek as she trembles with unfinished lust. “I hate you so much.”

“I hate you, too, my pet.”

I just don’t know when our hate started to morph into something entirely different.

24

GEORGINA

It's the middle of the night when there's a knock on the door.

I groan at my stiff limbs, rubbing my eyes.

"Who the fuck is that?" Jasper demands, and I shrug, still sleepy and uncomfortable in my cage.

"Let me go check," I mutter just as the person on the other side of the door begins talking.

"Georgie, are you in there? It's me, Bill."

I exchange a glance with Jas, and he presses a finger to his lips, motioning for me to stay quiet.

"I'll get rid of him," I whisper.

"No, you won't." He grits out the words, opening the cage and dragging me out, and an excited yelp leaves my lips. "I'm dealing with this fucker once and for fucking all. He's crossed the last strike. He's done."

"Don't hurt him," I warn, but it's the last few words I get out, because the next moment, Jas swipes my panties up off the floor and shoves them in my mouth. They're dripping wet with my juices, and I flush as he drags me to the bedroom and handcuffs me back to the bed.

“Behave,” he pats my cheek, and my heart races as he heads for the door.

He leaves the bedroom door open, so I get to listen to the whole conversation, though I can't see Bill from where I'm splayed out on the bed.

"Can I help you?" Jas' voice booms from the hallway.

"Umm... Who are you? Oh,” I hear Bill say.

"I think I should ask you the same. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Checking on Georgie." Bill's voice is defensive. "I just want to make sure she's okay."

"She's doing just fine," Jasper bites out. "Now, can I help you with something? Like getting your ass the fuck out of here?"

"Excuse me," Bill huffs. "I don't appreciate being talked to like that. I only want the best for Georgie and I truly don't think you're it."

The sound of Jas' laughter fills the hallway as I struggle against the handcuffs. I don't even know whether I want Bill to help or not. A part of me wants this. Wants to be Jas' willing captive. Another part is desperate to break free, and I still don't know which one is winning.

"I think I'll be the judge of that," Jasper says coolly. "Or better yet, Georgie will. I'm sure you can check in with her at work, she'll tell you just how much she's fucking loving having me around."

"You're sick," Bill tells him. "I know you're doing something messed up to her in there. I'm going to come back with the cops if you don't stop."

"Are you threatening me?" I can feel Jasper's rage all the way down the hallway, and it makes me shiver and fear for Bill.

"Yes, I am," Bill pipes up. He's either the bravest or the stupidest man alive, and I really hope he's smart enough not to come back here, because Jas is probably moments away from killing him. "I'm coming back in a few hours, and I'll bring my friend who works for the police."

"Try me," Jas grits out. "Just try me. Because I'm going to make you wish you were never fucking born."

I blink faster and faster, praying Bill just leaves.

"You're a terrible man," he finally mutters, and I hear the sound of retreating footsteps. "Awful, horrible man."

"You better run," Jas laughs before closing the door, locking it, and walking back into my bedroom. "Did you hear that, Pet? You have a knight in shining armor trying to save you from the big bad wolf. Think he can take me?"

I struggle against the cuffs, glaring at him, still unable to speak because of the panties he's stuffed into my mouth. But Jas pays me no mind, ignoring my struggles.

"You know you'll never be free, don't you, Petal?"

My eyes grow wider as I stare at him, huffing against my panties.

"I'm not going to let you go. I know you keep worrying your pretty little head about it, Pet, but there's really nothing you can do or say that will make me stop. I'm always going to be the shadow following your every footstep. I'll never let you go. You'll never be free again.”

A lone tear slips down my cheek as I listen to him go on, helpless in the position he's forced me into.

"By the time that loser drags his ass back here with the cops," Jas muses. "I'll have you ready to tell them anything I want to hear from your lips. That's how it works, isn't it, Petal? You'll do any-fucking-thing for me, because you just can't help yourself. You're a little whore at the core, and nothing I can do is going to change it."

I let out a scream but it comes out muffled because of my gag. I thrash against the cuffs to no avail.

"Maybe if you admit to what a fucking slut you are, I'll spare you some embarrassment," Jasper says. "If you beg hard enough. How about that, Petal? You think you can beg for me?"

I keep glaring at him, and he smirks before yanking my panties from my mouth. Spit dribbles down my chin and I stare at him with hatred.

But I don't scream, and it makes him chuckle. He knew I wasn't going to. That I was too under his messed-up influence to worry about what was right and what was wrong.

"Answer me, Pet. Are you going to beg for me?"

"Fuck you," I spit out.

Before the second word is out of my mouth, I wince, knowing what's going to happen next. And Jas doesn't disappoint. With a low chuckle, he slaps my pussy, making me yelp.

"Stop it!"

"Only when you beg," he hisses. "Beg, pretty Petal. Fucking beg for me."

"Never."

"You keep lying to us both. We both know you'll be asking for more before that loser gets back here. You'll do fucking anything."

"Fuck you," I say again, weaker this time.

"All I have to do is toy with this..." He slaps me again, making me gasp as he tickles my clit with his pointer finger. "See, look how much your pretty cunt loves that. She wants all the attention. And you want to come now, don't you, pretty Petal?"

"N-No," I manage, though my body is already threatening to erupt into waves of pleasure.

"No?" He sticks three fingers inside me without warning and I mewl with embarrassment, realizing how wet I am for him. Jas notices too, chuckling when he feels my pussy tighten around his intrusive fingers. "You're not going to beg me? Not even when I'm asking so nicely?"

I shake my head and he sneers at me.

"What if your orgasm depends on it? What if I don't let you come unless you beg me for it?"

"P-Please." Shame burns my cheeks. How easily I gave up. How simple it was for me to break my own rules and do everything he tells me.

"That's the right attitude, little Pet. Come on, I know you can give me more. Keep asking for it."

He finger-fucks me relentlessly and my body twists on top of the pillows, demanding the release he's keeping away from me.

"Please, Jas, please..."

"Please what?"

"Please let me have it," I breathe. "Just one, a little one, I want it so bad, fucking please."

"No." He pauses and I cry out loud. I want the friction of his fingers going in and out of me, fucking me the way I deserve it. "No, you can't have it. Keep begging for it, slut."

"Jasper, please, I'm begging you, please, let me come one time, just one time, I'll make it so good for you."

"For me?" He laughs with dark amusement. "How are you going to make it good for me?"

"I'll be loud." The words are spilling from my lips, fast. "I'll be so loud and so good and so obedient, I'll do anything you say."

His fingers start fucking me again and I keep on talking, promising him anything and everything under the sun.

"Please, Jas. Please, anything you want, you can have it."

"Just for one orgasm? Anything I want?"

"Y-Yes." I stare at him angrily, but it doesn't stop the torrent of words falling from my lips. "Anything. Now fucking please. Just... just let me come."

"You can come after you talk to your friend." Jas pulls his fingers out of me and I moan as he puts them in front of my lips. "Suck, Petal. Suck yourself off me."

Desperately, my lips wrap around his fingers and I look into his eyes as I lick my juices off his hand.

"That's right, you little slut. That's what I want. A broken, desperate girl eager to do anything her owner wants. For one orgasm. Just one. Maybe I'll deny you after. Maybe I won't let you come for a while. For now, you stay nice and dripping for me. Stay right on that edge, right where you're supposed to be.”

I cry out and he presses a finger against my lips, warning me to stay quiet.

"Remember what you promised me, Petal?"

"Y-Y-Yes."

"No coming before I allow it. Now, keep riding that edge for me. Keep fucking doing it, right there, so close you can taste it."

"Please!" I'm starting to sob, my body is so eager for a release. "Please, Jas! Stop fucking torturing me!"

"Never," he smirks. "Just hold it like a good girl. Grit those teeth and take it for me."

I do.

And a part of me hopes he'll never stop this.

That he'll keep me in a perpetual state of almost coming, almost there, so close I can taste the sweet release of an orgasm on the tip of my tongue, but never quite having it full. I want nothing else but to obey him. Submit to him. Be his willing slut.

I hope he never stops fucking with my head.

25

JASPER

The doorbell rings.

My face tightens, but I smile. My little Petal watches me closely, the unknown must be killing her, but she doesn’t want to ask.

“That’s your nurse,” I say as I lead her from the bedroom to the small dining room at the edge of the kitchen.

“He’s not my nurse,” she murmurs.

“But he brought you help.” My arm wraps around her waist, keeping her caged in place to my side. “He’s your knight in shining armor, Petal.”

She stares up at me. “At least someone is.”

My hold tightens around her. “Don’t fucking test me.”

She obviously wants to say something but keeps her mouth shut. All the hickeys and her sore cunt are evidence of what I can do to her. She does enjoy it, but she’s passed the line of exhaustion now.

“Sit down,” I motion at the table as the doorbell rings again.

“Are you going to do something to Bill?”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

“I don’t want you hurting people just because you can, Jasper. That’s wrong.”

“Newsflash, Pet, if you’re looking for right you won’t find it in me. Now, sit the fuck down.”

“Jerk,” she mutters under her breath but heads to the chair.

The moment she sits, I crouch beside her and turn the seat so she’s facing me. She’s wearing nothing under her long robe, and I did that on purpose.

“What are you doing—”

Her words cut off when I bring something from my pocket and shove my hand between her legs.

The gray of her eyes darkens with her arousal. “Don’t, don’t…” she chants in a small, helpless voice.

I don’t, not until I make sure the object is lodged tightly against her cunt.

“Be a good girl and I might not torture you for long.” I stand up and push her chair back against the table. “Act normal and don’t fucking dare say anything or I’ll chop off the white knight’s hand.”

“This is blackmail.”

“And you love it,” I whisper at her ear and turn on the device from the remote in my pocket.

A moan rips from her as she grips the edge of the table.

With one last stroke of her hair, I push off her and answer the door.

Sure enough, Bill, the fucker who’s wishing to have an early death and a mafia funeral-style ceremony, stands at the entrance. He appears agitated, eyes darting, and he nearly knocks on my face when I open the door.

He’s accompanied by a policeman with a fat belly and small narrow eyes.

“May I help you, gentlemen?” I ask in my most amiable tone.

I can be a good sport, I just don’t like to play the role. I prefer the darkness and the night, that’s when people’s masks drop and they show their true colors.

“This is him.” Bill points in my direction and I’m tempted to cut off that fucking finger and carve his face with my knife. “He’s keeping her against her will.”

“I’m sorry?” I feign surprise. “Keeping who?”

“We had a complaint by miss Georgina Hill’s friend that she’s in a situation,” the cop says.

“What type of situation, officer?”

“Mind if we come in?” He motions behind me.

“Yes,” Bill’s face reddens. “Georgie will give her statement against this criminal.”

Okay, he’s out.

This fucker better start counting his days.

“That’s not something to joke about in front of an officer, Bill.” I’m still in my amicable mood, the perfect disguise strapped in place.

“So, can we come in?” the cop insists.

“Yes, of course.” I open the door, giving them way. “Georgie is in the dining area.”

The fat cat hisses as Bill passes him by. Good boy. Someone is getting a treat later.

“Relax, Mr. Bingley.” I speak in the calm soothing way my little Petal uses with her cats then smile at the officer. “He’s not good with strangers.”

He nods with a flicker of understanding.

He must own pets, and he knows pets need some sort of familiarity. The fact that the cat keeps following me but hissing at them is enough evidence I’m no stranger.

“Georgie!” Bill runs towards her like a high school idiot with a crush for the most popular girl. He sits beside her and holds her hands in his. “Are you okay? I just brought the officer, everything is going to be fine.”

On the outside, I’m calm, nonchalant even, as I crouch and scratch under Mr. Bingley’s chin. The motion calms the cat down, but not me.

I’m on the verge of boiling over.

He’s touching her and holding her hands, in front of me. I’m so going to mutilate him before finishing his fucking life.

I reach into my pocket and increase the intensity of the vibrator. My little Petal visibly shudders then pulls her hands from Bill to rest them on her lap. She’s squirming, trying to stop herself from giving in to the pleasure and somehow failing.

Her eyes meet mine for a second, they’re filled with a sick type of hatred and lust. If we were alone, she’d tell me to hate fuck her, roughen her up, spank her until she’s a sobbing mess.

My cock hardens at that and I think about the cat to chase away the thoughts.

“Tell the cop, Georgie,” Bill prompts, seeming oblivious to her state.

The cop might not be, though, so I reduce the intensity, to give her room to speak.

“Tell him what?” She sounds semi-normal considering the stimuli against her cunt.

Good girl.

“He’s keeping you against your will.” Bill points in my direction. “He’s making you stay here and—”

“That’s not true.” She cuts him off with a small smile, and despite the briefness of it, that smile is one of the truest things she’s ever offered.

I tilt my head to the side. Where have I seen that smile before?

“What do you mean it’s not true?” Bill’s face reddens with exertion. “He obviously is.”

“Obviously is?” Georgie repeats with a hard edge. She’s not acting right now, but showing her true feelings.

“Well, he’s not your type and you seem suspicious.”

“What do you know about my type, Bill?” She glances at me before reverting her gaze. “He’s the only one who does.”

No idea if she’s only keeping up a façade, or if she’s speaking the truth, but those words do shit to me.

“Can you address the suspicious part, Miss Hill?” the officer asks, still not taking a seat.

“We’ve been…” she swallows. “Exploring some kinks.”

My little Petal is either a tremendous liar or she does believe those words as the truth.

“So, to confirm,” the officer approaches her. “What’s your relationship?”

“He’s my man.” She doesn’t even hesitate to say the words.

I nearly come in my pants there and then.

My man. She called me her fucking man.

Instead, I stand and walk toward her, placing both hands on her slender shoulders. There’s a slight tremor in her body, probably because of the toy.

“Georgie!” Bill tries to reach out for her again, but she keeps her hands on her lap.

“Thank you for your concern, Bill, but it wasn’t needed.” She smiles up at the officer, it’s her usual fake, welcoming smile, but it does the trick. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“You’re not the one who’s supposed to apologize.” He gives Bill a side-eye.

“I’ll see you when I return to the hospital,” she tells Bill.

“And when will that be?” He glares at me.

“I’m taking a few days off.”

I reach a hand into my pocket and increase the intensity. A full shudder goes through my little Petal’s body. I can feel the stiffness in her shoulder under my hand, that preparation for orgasm.

“Good night, Bill,” she manages to say.

“Have a lovely night.” I wave at Bill and the officer at the door. Although I’m smiling, I imagine spilling the fucker’s brains on the ground and disfiguring his face —propably both at the same time.

I push the vibrator to its highest intensity.

As I walk back inside, my little Petal’s whimpers and moans fill the space. I stop at the entrance, watching her slumped against the table, gripping both edges so hard, her knuckles are whiter than her natural skin complexion.

“M-make it stop,” she mewls as her cheek lies on the table, facing me. “I did what you asked.”

“So, it was all an act.” I don’t know why the fuck that pisses me off, but it does.

“I... what do you want from me, Jasper?” She reaches for her nightgown. “I did what you asked.”

“Remove that hand. Right. Now.”

“But—”

“Put them back where they were.”

Like a kid caught stealing from the jar, she plants them back on the table and stares at me with tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Jasper. I need release.”

I raise an eyebrow as I stalk toward her. “Again?”

She nods slowly.

“With my cock or with the vibrator?”

“You,” she breathes.

As I approach her, I notice the stain at the front of her nightgown. My cock turns fucking hard at the fact that she’s been craving me while her knight in shining armor was right beside her.

With a flick of my thumb, I stop the vibrator and she sags, breathing harshly.

“Straighten up,” I order.

She does, her back snapping in a rigid line.

For this, I need her in her right state of mind.

I stroke stray strands of hair behind her ear and she leans into my hand, briefly closing her eyes. “You said I’m your man.”

She stops moving against my hand but doesn’t pull away or open her eyes.

My fingers drop down to her jaw, pinching it between my thumb and forefinger. “Was that an act?”

She slowly opens her eyes, they’re light, shining, and I see the answer in them before she says, “No.”

“You’re mine, Pet.”

“I am.” She doesn’t hesitate this time, the words come easy as if they were always meant to.

“You were a good girl tonight.”

A soft moan rips from her lips at the words. My little Petal likes being called a good girl and likes being at my mercy.

“Good girls get rewards.”

“They do?”

“They do.”

She squeals as I lift her up and throw her over my shoulder, carrying her to the bedroom.

Tonight, I’ll fuck her slowly, worshipping every inch of her body.

It’s a first for me, but my little Petal has been my first in a lot of things.

26

GEORGINA

I've been stuck in my apartment for two days now.

Two days of Jas relentlessly fucking my body until I promised him everything in the world for the taste of pleasure, a lick of what he kept away from me for hours that felt like years.

He started by fucking my body, but now, he's progressed to fucking with my head.

By the third day, I'm a fucking mess. The night before, Jasper showered me himself, spraying my body with bursts of hot and cold water until I was a confused, dripping mess. He put me in bed himself. I don't even have makeup on, and my hair is a wavy tangle, but he doesn't seem to care. He stares at me like he's about to fucking devour me, and as for me... I'm living for every second of it, not that I'd ever admit it to my captor.

"Jas.” My mouth so dry it feels like it's cracking with every word. "You're fucking me up."

"Just the way you like it," he replies. "Now go to sleep, Petal. Dream of pretty, wonderful things that you can't have anymore."

My eyes close and I let the darkness pull me under.

Suddenly, I'm in a world I've tried to shut down for years. A world of darkness, shadows and secrets being whispered on every corner – a world I can't pretend to understand any longer. My mama's there, still alive, still breathing, holding me close to her heart and telling me everything's going to be alright over and over again.

"You're okay," she whispers in my ear. "You're okay, my darling girl, I'm going to take care of you, I'm going to make sure nobody ever hurts you again."

I believe her. I'm a little girl again, except I'm not a little girl, I'm a little boy, and I like picking daisies and the older boy who takes care of me.

I startle, my eyes opening again as I whimper and my hands seek out Jasper for comfort. He's next to me, his body stiff as I latch onto him, holding on for dear life.

"You're scaring me, Jas," I whisper. "You're doing something to my head, you're fucking with it, I can't even see straight anymore."

"Let it take you under, Petal.” His dark voice soothes. “It’s the only way you’ll get rid of those anxiety attacks.”

I allow the pull of the memories to start taking me away from him again. I don't want to remember, but I need to. To save myself, to save Jas.

Remember.

Remember.

Remember.

I don't know how he's doing this, but events I've tried to sweep under the rug for decades are coming back in full technicolor glory. My eyes water as I remember a beautiful woman that looked just like me. Dark hair, frail, thin body, gray eyes. My mama.

She took care of me. She loved me. She was the only person I had.

Until she was ripped away from me.

I'm traveling back now, back years in time until I'm small and fragile and young, sitting on greener grass than I've ever seen. I'm in a garden, a garden of daisies. The little white flowers litter the ground, sprouting from the most unlikely of places and making me smile, putting dimples in my chubby cheeks.

I shake my head, groaning.

I don't want these memories.

I don't want to remember.

But why?

The woman is singing in a beautiful voice, Italian words that I don't understand blending together in a soothing lullaby. She's trying to comfort me, but as she sings, her voice begins to shake and tremble, and the melody loses its meaning.

"We have to go now, little one," she tells me, grabbing me and gathering me in her arms. The flower crown I'd been making out of the daisies falls to the ground.

"But I'm not finished," I complain. She pays me no mind. She runs along the grass. Her feet are bare and streaked with green, and so are mine. We're in our own world. A place where we're safe, and happy, and good, until we aren't. Until someone barges into our fantasy with a bang. Bang bang bang.

"Mama!" I cry out, little arms extending for my mother. "Mama, don't go!"

But she's being pulled away. She reaches out for me, and then there's a loud noise, bang bang bang, again and again, over and over again. Rosettes of deep scarlet bloom on my mother's chest and she stumbles back, having never quite reached me, her last chance of comforting me being cruelly ripped away. She utters my name, but no sound comes from her lips. They open to shape the letters of my name and then darker red, almost black liquid spills from her lips.

I don't know what's happening, but I know something's wrong, and I start to wail. Mama falls to the floor and I crawl closer to her, watching her gurgle blood, trying to speak and tell me something that could save my life. But there's nothing. No words come out. She reaches out for me, but her hand falls midway, her arm brokenly lying on the grass and her eyes lifeless, staring into nothing.

"What's wrong, Mama?" I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's going on, why won't you talk to me?"

I'm too small to understand, too young to comprehend it's over, it's done. She's dead, and I don't know it, so I keep sitting there, absentmindedly picking daisies that grow in the grass around her unmoving body. I tuck them in her hair, filling her dark mane with flowers.

I snap out of it with a sharp intake of breath, and Jas is there, but Mama is nowhere to be seen.

With a start, I realize it was nothing but a memory. A memory I've been keeping under lock and key, because it's just too much to deal with daily.

Mama.

My mother.

Dead, next to me.

Only now I'm understanding the significance of what I've remembered. Someone killed her, shot her, and left me with her dead body in our garden, where the daisies grew.

My hands form fists at my sides as I look at Jasper. "She's gone."

"Who's gone, Petal?" For once in his life, he actually looks concerned. I'm afraid too, because it seems as if he's finally pushed me enough to break me. I'm remembering things I haven't thought of in years, and as Jasper's words blur into nothing, I go back in time, to a simpler, kinder place.

I'm sitting in a garden again. I'm wearing dark clothes, and there's a boy next to me, an older boy, who's picking daisies with me.

My mouth forms a scowl, because I don't like daisies. They remind me of Mama and what happened to her. How peaceful she looked lying there with flowers in her hair and blood leaking from the wounds on her chest.

Thoughtfully, I pick the petals off the flowers, softly chanting the words as I go.

"He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not."

The memory is intense and painful, and I blink my eyes open and closed again and again, lost somewhere between the past and the present.

My eyes lock with Jasper's, and I furrow my brows. "What are you doing to me, Jas?"

“What have you seen?”

It hits me then. Those eyes, these eyes.

Once upon a time, there was an older boy who took care of me. Who never picked on me. Who teases me in sweet, kind ways, and protects me from the mean kids in the playground. I remember the boy who protected me when no one else would.

My savior.

My stalker.

My tormentor.

"It’s you,” he whispers.

27

JASPER

It’s you.

I stare down at my little Petal —at her disheveled hair, her rosy cheeks, but no matter how much I study her, I find it hard to process her words.

“It’s me?” I repeat.

She pushes away from my embrace and sits opposite me, her slender legs tucked beneath her.

Her gray eyes shine with child-like excitement and realization. “When I was young, my mother and I were always hidden, somehow. Dad visited us and it seemed like he didn’t want to show us to the outside world. One day, he told Mom I should remain hidden, and I was like four. I didn’t even understand what it meant, but I felt it. That day, Mom threw away all my dresses, cut off my hair and told me, you’ll be a boy now, Georgie. If anyone asks about your name, it’ll be Joseph. Although I didn’t understand it, I loved the idea of not having to brush my hair anymore. At the tender age of four, I became a boy, and since I was a child, it was believable to everyone else. All that time, I thought Mom wanted a boy and I was just playing the role of one for her.

“After she disappeared two years later, I was taken into a boys’ boarding school and the woman who took care of me told me to never, ever shower with the other boys, get close to them or even talk to them. She always tightened my pants and cut my hair, and watched me all the time, making sure I stayed as the boy Mom wanted me to be. I was too scrawny at the time, though, so scrawny and innocent for what was going on in that school. I wanted to have friends and play with them, but the boys didn’t feel the same. They hit me and tried to drown me, they pulled my hair and tore my books. I always cried in the corner on my own because Mom told me boys don’t cry. I was so alone and scared and looked over my shoulder with every step I took until…”

Her bottom lip trembles. “A boy rescued me. He was taller, older and had a better build, too. He scared the other boys by just showing up there. He gave them a fright and beat them to a pulp in the middle of the playground. He sat with me when I was reading, a bit behind so he didn’t disturb me. He was silent mostly, but he protected me, he let me smile again, be myself, and forget for a moment that I lost my mom. But he didn’t know I was a girl because I couldn’t betray the promise I gave my mom. No matter how much I wished to open up to him, I couldn’t.” She swallows. “Until now.”

The entire time she speaks, I’m unmovable, I’m surprised I can breathe evenly in the first place.

Joseph is my little Petal.

My little Petal is Joseph.

That small weak boy with no fight in him, the one I wanted to protect because he was about to be eaten by wolves is the same woman sitting in front of me.

Gray eyes.

He had the hugest, most mesmerizing gray eyes I’ve ever seen. Why did I thought they were blue or green? When he first looked up at me with tears in them, thinking I’d hit him like the other bullies, I felt a connection, an inkling, it’s the same one I felt toward my little Petal that day at the hospital’s parking lot. That her smile felt wrong. That’s not how Joseph used to smile before; his smiles used to be carefree, liberating, and contagious.

I might have kept him close for that smile alone.

Then the system robbed him of that smile, that soft innocence.

And now, he’s here. Or she is… or what-the-fuck-ever.

Sarah was the one who kept her hidden in school, making sure to protect her identity as a boy. She must’ve known she’s now a girl, but she never uttered a word about it to Costa or to me to mislead us.

We were looking for a man, but she’s been a woman all along.

Joseph Costa is Georgina Costa.

She interlinks her hands at her lap and watches me through her eyelashes. “Say something.”

What am I supposed to say? I have to kill you? It’s either your life or mine?

Or maybe I should tell her that her mom didn’t disappear, and that her father isn’t just someone who kept her hidden. Maybe I should tell her she’s the Costa heir and her uncle is after her life.

“How did you know it’s me?” I ask instead.

A small smile lifts her lips and I’m trapped it in it for a second, I’m caught hook, line, and sinker. All I think about is to pull her into me and devour that smile, feast on it, cage it and keep it for safekeeping.

“Your eyes,” she says simply.

“My eyes?”

“I might have forgotten a lot of things due to how strange my childhood was, but I never forgot your eyes and that icy color and mean edge. I never forgot the boy who sat beside me as I read and let me pick daisies before telling me not to be a girl.” She laughs, the sound soft and easy. “I wanted to tell you that I was, but I was scared you’d hate me like the others, and I couldn’t afford that.”

“I wouldn’t have hated you.” I don’t know why I say the words, but I just do. It’s the truth and it slips from between my lips so easily, it’s alarming.

I wouldn’t have hated Joseph whether he was a boy or a girl. At the time, he was the only bright thing in my pitch-black life.

My childhood was bitter and angry. I had so much energy I had to purge with fistfights and shower fights. And fights, in general.

After Joseph came, I had better control. He was slowly filling up that bottomless black hole.

Until he didn’t.

Until he left.

My little Petal inches closer as if the distance between us is a burden. Her knees touch my thigh. “You really wouldn’t have?”

“No, you would’ve been annoying either way.”

“Hey!” She hits my shoulder with her small fist. “You were one of my happiest memories, don’t ruin it.”

“Happiest memories, huh?”

“Yeah, you were the number one person in my life back then.”

Something clenches in my chest. I don’t know what it is, but it just does. I didn’t know I needed her to say those words until she actually did.

“How about your father?” I feign nonchalance. “He never visited?”

She shakes her head slowly. “I think he died with Mom. I never saw him after she was gone.”

He’s not. He’s looking for you.

“And you’re okay with never seeing him?” I ask.

“I learnt to be okay with a lot of things since I was young. When you’re an orphan and depend on foster care, you can’t be picky or difficult. There shouldn’t be any food or TV shows you dislike. I hate beans with a passion, but one of the foster families I lived with loved them, and I had to shove them down my throat with a smile. If I didn’t, if I started picking trouble because of stupid food, I’d be sent back. I hated being sent back, it felt like being unwanted trash.”

Her voice breaks on the last word.

Her eyes well with tears but she takes a deep breath and fans her face to get rid of them.

I do something I never did with another human before.

Placing an arm around her shoulder, I pull her to the crook of my body. I’ve never felt the need to console anyone, but the look on her face, the way her nose scrunches with her battle to seal down her pain does me in.

The moment I hug her, my little Petal loses the battle. A gasp tears from her throat that soon turns into a soft sob.

Her nails dig into my chest as her lips tremble with the need to hide her emotions.

“Well, you don’t have to eat beans now,” I joke.

She smiles a little. “I don’t.”

“Is that why you have picky cats?”

“Hey! Don’t go insulting my cats.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“How was it for you?” she asks after a moment of silence and her sobs dying down.

“How was what?”

“Foster system.”

“I liked being sent back. It meant I was doing a great job pissing people off.”

“You were always the rebel.”

“Always, Pet.”

Her huge eyes fix me with acute curiosity. “How did you end up the way you are? You know, with killing and stuff.”

“Someone saved me from the system and stopped letting people send me back.”

She appears thoughtful for a second, but she doesn’t speak.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I say slowly as if those thoughts might end whatever this is.

“I was just thinking about how different you are between then and now. But not really that different, you know? Back then, you always used violence to solve problems, but although I loved that you were protecting me and still love the boy you were so much, but now, I’m not sure about the man you’ve become. It’s so scary to be with you, to crave you this much, to need your hands on me all the time when I know those same hands ended other people’s lives.”

Silence.

Long, thick silence fills the space.

Neither of us break it or attempts to. My little Petal is breathing heavily against my chest, probably thinking back over the bomb she just dropped.

She said in no certain terms that she doesn’t like what I grew up into, that she preferred the boy from back then over the man I am today.

And why wouldn’t she?

After all, I’m the killer pining for her life. Being her stalker is child’s play compared to what I’m supposed to do to her —like kill her, maim her, and cut off her head so Lucio can keep it in his fucked-up collection.

He has eyes and body parts of his enemies tucked away, so he can look at them and feel triumphant about how far he’s come.

My little Petal will be just another addition to that, a last ‘fuck you’ to Paolo. Another way to ensure he’s the only one who rules.

Still, hearing her say those words doesn’t bring me the acceptance I’m supposed to feel. A dark cloud hovers over my head, expanding and blackening by the second.

The fact I’m being subtly rejected by her is like being sliced by a knife. At first, you only feel the sting, and then you’re bleeding to fucking death on the ground.

I stand up, not caring that I push her off me in the meantime.

My little Petal’s face falls.

Petal.

No wonder I started calling her that for no apparent reason at all. It’s from the times she was picking daisies and plucking their petals one by one in that stupid fucking game.

It takes me a minute to pull on my pants and throw on my shirt. The entire time, my little Petal watches me from the bed, unmoving, almost as if any motion will trigger a disaster.

I’m halfway through buttoning my shirt when she murmurs, “Where are you going?”

I don’t answer her and throw my jacket over my shoulder on the way out. If I speak right now, it’ll be ugly. If I let the words come out of my mouth, she’ll be crying and I’ll be fucking her face-first into her bed.

I’m in the middle of the living room when a soft, but quick padding of feet follows me before two slender arms wrap around me from behind.

My feet come to a halt of their own volition.

“D-don’t go.” Her voice is muffled as her face nuzzles against my back.

“Why?”

“Just… don’t. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“And why is that my fucking problem?” I snap harder than I intend to.

She flinches but doesn’t let me go. “Jasper, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what? Leave you be as you always asked?”

“But you never gave it to me, why now?”

“The fun is over, Pet. I lost interest in you.”

Her hands fall from around me as if she’s been electrocuted. There’s a fucking tingling in my chest pushing me to say I didn’t mean that, that I’m only pushing her away because of what she said, but I kill that part.

That part will be the cause of my fucking death.

I don’t look back as I step out of the apartment. A soft whimper follows after me, but I don’t turn around no matter how much I’m tempted to. If I do, I’ll go back in there and hold her, kiss her, make her feel better. I’ll tell her stupid fucking things like she won’t be alone anymore and that I’ll be there with her.

But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?

My little Petal and I have unfinished business.

Her life or mine.

It’s time to make that decision.

28

GEORGINA

Everything that's happened so far has made me anxious as fuck.

As I make my way to the hospital, I keep glancing over my shoulder. I don't see Jas, but I know he's somewhere nearby. He wouldn't just let me wander around by myself. He's protective of me now, determined to make sure I don't get hurt.

I arrive at the hospital and work my shift in silence, only answering when I'm spoken to. By the time lunch hour rolls around, I'm tired and worried about Katya and Dinah's questions. I wonder whether I should skip the lunch date altogether, but I know it would only make my friends suspicious, so I grab a cafeteria sandwich and meet the girls at our usual table.

"There she is!" Dinah waves me over and I smile tersely as I sit down, digging into my barely edible sandwich. "We've barely heard from you lately, Georgie. Where have you been hiding?"

I look into her eyes, briefly wondering whether I should tell her what's been going on for weeks now. Dinah's one of my closest friends, yet something tells me she wouldn't understand.

"Just been busy," I finally say, teeth digging into my sandwich.

Dinah gives me a doubtful look, but then Katya launches into a story about one of the guys she's been seeing, momentarily distracting us all. She even manages to get me to laugh along with her story, though my mind is focusing on anything other than my friend's dating adventures.

"Guys, I have a favor to ask you," I find myself saying.

"Oh?" Katya raises an eyebrow. "This doesn't have to do with that Jasper guy, does it?"

I don't answer, giving them a grave look before going on. "I was hoping you two could check in with me more often. Call me, maybe drop by the apartment if you don't hear from me. Would that be okay?"

"Why?" Dinah demands. "Are you going somewhere?"

Weakly, I shake my head. What the hell was I thinking? I can't tell them the truth, they'll think me crazy. But my friends surprise me by taking one of my hands each, and I raise my head to look at them.

"We're here for you," Katya assures me. "We want to make sure you're okay. We'll do whatever you need us to do."

"Thank you," I breathe. The relief is so intense my eyes water. "I'm worried about the cats. If you could just check on them once every few days, I'd be really grateful."

My friends exchange worried glances but end up nodding without asking me any questions.

"You'd tell us if you were in trouble, right?" Katya blurts a moment later.

"Katya!" Dinah shoots her a warning look before patting my hand. "Babe, you don't need to tell us what's happening, just make sure you stay safe and out of trouble. And if you need anything, you can always call either of us for help."

"Thanks." I smile and set the rest of my sandwich aside. "It means a lot, seriously."

They exchange another worried look, but neither of them says anything. I guess they don't want to overstep – I've been known to pull back before when I thought they were being too demanding. There had been countless times when my friends had attempted to set me up before. It was only this year that I'd agreed to it – and after the disaster with the doctor, and now with Jas, I’m beginning to think I would've been better off without ever dating the guys they picked for me.

By the end of the day, I am once again exhausted. Thankfully, the traffic isn't too bad and I arrive home at dusk.

I notice a car in front of the building that doesn't look like it belongs one bit. I recognize it. I've seen it before.

It's that guy, Lucio. Jas' employer.

I furrow my brows, beeping the keys to my car as I approach the building. A man is standing in front of the car, and he smiles like a snake when he sees me, sending shivers down my spine. My eyes find the spider tattoo on his hand, and I shiver involuntary when I see the creepy, crawly legs etched permanently into his skin.

"Can I help you?" I speak up loudly when I'm near enough for the sound to reach him. The guy smirks and I give him a wary look, crossing my arms and coming to a stop in front of his car.

"Perhaps," he says with a smooth Italian accent. "I'm looking for Jasper."

"I don't know where he is." I raise an eyebrow. Even if I did, I wasn't going to tell this guy. "Anything else?"

He takes his hands out of the pockets of his expensive suit and approaches me with long, confident steps. He grabs me by the chin, surprising me when he pulls me closer. "You think you're all that because you're the dog's flavor of the month? He doesn't give a shit about you, little nurse."

I slap his hand away and the bastard laughs at me as I stumble back. He didn't grab me hard, but humiliation still sears my skin where his fingers rested on it. "Get the hell away from me."

"I have every right to be here. I'm not trespassing – this is public property. Now let's clear a few things up, you and me."

He approaches me again and I shrink back, immediately hating myself for being weaker than him. I want to smash his face in for scaring me, but I know I'm helpless, and given the guy's background, I wouldn't be surprised if he was carrying a gun somewhere.

I swallow and glare at him as he continues his calm, cool speech.

"You're nothing to him," he says. "He doesn't do love, or feelings, or relationships. The sooner you realize that, the better. And I'd encourage you to make it as soon as you can, little nurse. The man's got work to do and he has no use for some sad little bitch hanging around him waiting for a glimmer of his affection."

How dare he speak to me that way?

I don’t care if he’s connected to the mafia, but I won’t be disrespected by him or anyone else.

“Is that why he’s always with me?” I lift my chin. “Are you perhaps jealous?”

“You fucking bitch –” he lunges at me and before I can retreat or run, someone pulls him away from me.

I watch in horror as Jasper backs the guy up against his own car and slams him down on the hood.

In a split second, three guards get out of the car I'd presumed was empty, all pointing guns at Jas' head.

He punches Lucio anyway.

“Stop it.” I tremble, calling his name over and over again to shift his attention before he gets himself killed.

But Jas is blind and deaf to everything. All he sees is the red mist in front of his eyes, descending and blurring his vision until all he wants to do is fucking kill.

"Jas, please!" I cry out again, screaming when one of the guards points their gun at me.

Jasper retreats back at the threat, his eyes still glimmering with tension.

Lucio motions with a hand for the guards to aim away, and they do. The man picks himself up, chuckling as a trickle of blood runs down his chin. He wipes it off before buttoning his blazer.

"That was the last time you disrespect me," Lucio tells Jas calmly. "You might have thought yourself a master, but once a dog, always a dog. You’ll pay for this."

He gets in the car and slams the door, while the guards do the same. The vehicle speeds off while I try to catch my breath and Jas stares after them with distaste.

"Where did you come from?" I demand once we're alone. "Are you following me again?"

He doesn't answer. Just looks over at me, gives me a onceover as if to make sure I'm in one piece, then turns on his heel and walks away.

"Jas!" I call out after him, but he there’s no reply.

I watch his retreating back until he disappears around the corner.

I just know we'll both end up in trouble.

29

JASPER

My head spins with a thousand scenarios as I make my way back to my apartment.

After I left my little Petal’s side, I’ve been running a background check on the locations she’s been in for her whole life. I did that before, but I didn’t have the current information back then.

Her moves have been strategic even though she didn’t know it. Sarah always played her magic in the background, making sure my little Petal changed foster homes fast enough to not trigger any type of familiarity. It’s not a coincidence she didn’t keep any friends from the system, she was thrown out every so often, she went completely solo as soon as she was legal.

From what I gathered, she never crossed paths with Lucio or Paolo. She did work as a waitress in one of the restaurants owned by the Costas in college, but it was only part-time, and she didn’t stand out at all.

Thank fuck.

Now that Sarah’s gone, Lucio can run an extensive background check on her and might come out with crumbs that will lead him to Petal’s doorstep.

The only solution I have that won’t end with me killing her or with Lucio finishing me, is to come up with a ploy.

If I kill someone and frame him as Joseph Costa, Lucio will stay down.

The downside is that I can’t keep her, not when her mere existence is a ticking bomb. The Costas are old-fashioned and won’t let a woman rule, but Paolo can easily marry her off to one of his most trusted men and continue his legacy.

My fist clenches at the thought. There’s no way any other motherfucker is claiming her as long as I live.

Perhaps I can hide her somewhere, keep her on the side and –

I run a hand through my hair. Lucio and everyone in the Costa organization knows I don’t keep women, I don’t fucking hide them either, so the moment I do that, their interest will naturally pique, and it’ll put her in danger.

Anyone who has a beef against me –and there’s many of them– will use her to threaten me. Worse, Paolo and the older servants might recognize her if she looks like her mother.

My head is still buzzing with chaotic thoughts when I open the door to my apartment. The moment I close it behind me, I notice the chair has been moved a bit to the right. It’s fleeting and could’ve been a play of my imagination, but it fucking isn’t.

Being immaculate about details, I notice the things others don’t pay attention to.

I reach for my knife just in time as someone attacks me from the side. It’s pitch-black so I don’t see them, but I feel their movements in the dark like they’re cloaked in it.

My knife slashes at his arm the moment he punches me. I’m about to slash him again when another blow comes from my other side and another from the front.

Fuck.

I focus on the first man and stab him in the chest. The other one kicks me in the chin and I nearly lose balance. I grunt as I get to my feet and punch the one about to hit me in the stomach.

Although I try to hold on, it doesn’t take them long to gang up on me. Three to one is not only unfair, but it’s fucking exhausting. Instead of focusing on three at once, I keep slashing and re-slashing the other one until he drops to the fucking ground.

For every one of my hits, I get punched and kicked. No weapons, which means this is a warning, not an actual attack to kill me.

Lucio.

I knew he’d make me pay for that punch, but I never thought it’d be this fast.

My rib aches with the last shove of shoes against my chest. I groan as I stab the knife on the ground and use it to stand up.

“Paolo found his son,” Marco’s voice echoes in the darkness as I rise to my feet, panting. “Either kill him before he brings him to the general meeting, or we’ll come back to finish the job.”

“I’m so looking forward to fucking up your face,” Stephan snarls.

They grab their injured henchman and drag him out of the apartment, leaving a trail of dark blood in their wake. Marco stops at the entrance and throws over his shoulder, “Lucio sends his regards for the last fucking time.”

I slide to the ground, my back against the wall and the knife lying by my side. Reaching into my pocket, I wince, as I retrieve a cigarette and light it, absorbing the nicotine.

My breaths come hard and unhinged as I think about the words those fuckers said.

Paolo found his son.

He couldn’t have. She’s been well hidden for twenty years, and as a boy for most of her childhood, so no one could’ve figured it out.

Unless Paolo Costa knows about the boy disguise. Didn’t Georgie say her mother started dressing her as a boy after her father ordered to hide her?

Change of plan. Leaving my little Petal alone is out of the fucking question. The Costa family will eat her alive before spitting her out.

Paolo is no different than Lucio. He didn’t care for her for twenty years and when it’s about his legacy, he converted back to his old selfish ways and dragged her to a war she didn’t need in her life.

She was supposed to stay hidden until her last fucking days.

A shadow spills from the still-open door. I grab my knife and get to my feet, hiding in the dark. I kill the cigarette on the ground, ruining the wood.

If Stephan and Marco returned, I’m going to fucking murder one of them. Let it be a war announcement on Lucio.

“You’re slow,” a slightly Italian accented voice muses as he strides inside. I pounce on him the second his foot steps in.

He pushes me against the wall with a gun to my chest.

Fuck.

I continue pointing the knife at his throat, anyway. If he shoots, I still have the fraction of second to cut him.

He steps back, letting the gun dangle from his forefinger as he puts both hands up. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“Enzo.” I step back, hitting the light switch.

“Jasper,” he echoes.

I eye the businessman closely. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Enzo Morelli is one of the Costas biggest partners, they handle their shipments from Sicily and back. They’re the business arm of the Costa empire and since most of it is legit, I have absolutely no contact whatsoever with that side.

I’ve met Enzo countless times at banquets Lucio had me attend, but we kept contact to a minimum. Besides, Enzo is an office man, and I never once saw him carry a gun. He always jokes that they aren’t for him. What’s the fuck with his sharp reflexes just now?

“Is that a way to greet an old friend?” he asks.

“We’re not old friends.”

“We share Costa love, yes?”

He readjusts his tie. Enzo is always in sharp elegant suits that complement his whole Italian upbringing. His dark hair is styled back and his shoes are Italian, Sicilian, locally made as he likes to brag.

His eyes are weird, they have heterochromia so you never know if they will change to green or gray.

“We share nothing, Enzo.” I point at the door. “Get the fuck out of my place.”

“I would argue that.”

I twirl the knife in my hand, “If you have a point, reach it because I have no time for you.”

“You have time to be beaten up by Lucio, Yes?”

“Your point, Enzo.”

He steps closer and I tighten my hold around the knife without pointing it at him.

Enzo stops a few steps away from me, the hand with the gun lying by his side and the other in his pocket. “You’re not a dog, Jasper. Stop living like one.”

“What?”

“Lucio Costa didn’t save you, just like he didn’t save me.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He retrieves his hand from his pocket and passes me a business card. “Join me if you want to find out.”

“Pass.”

He places the card in my jacket pocket. “I believe you know what I mean deep down, Jasper… or wait, that’s not exactly your name.”

My grip on the knife doesn’t loosen as he brushes by me, stepping on the thug’s blood without a care in the world.

“I’ll be waiting for your call.”

Well, he’ll be waiting for a long time.

Enzo is the last thing I need right now.

Only one person matters and it’s the slender girl across the street who begged me not to leave her alone.

Maybe, just maybe, her wish will come true.

Once and for all.

30

JASPER

I lean against the counter, my back to it and my arms crossed over my chest.

My little Petal stands at the threshold, clutching her empty cup of coffee. The fact that she’s coming for a refill means she didn’t sleep all night.

And she doesn’t intend to.

“What are you doing here?” She hides her surprise and tries to brush past me toward her coffee machine.

I clutch her by the arm, causing her to stop in front of me. My little Petal, Georgina, or Joseph, or whatever the fuck her name is, stares up at me with tears welling in her eyes.

It’s like she’s been holding on for a long time and it’s now catching up on her.

“What do you want from me, Jasper? Just what the fuck do you want? You said the fun is over, so what the hell are you doing here again? Why did you send your boss to tell me how much of a monster you are? Do you think that will magically make me hate you?”

She’s panting after her outburst, cheeks flaming and pulse rising in the blue veins beneath her translucent skin.

I remove the mug from her shaking hand and place it on the counter beside me. If she breaks that, she’ll never forgive herself – or me.

“Forget about Lucio,” I say.

She sniffles. “Aren’t you the one who sent him?”

“No.”

The fact he paid my little Petal a visit means he’s already sampling her and how to use her against me.

She can’t stay here for another fucking second.

If Lucio already put her in his sights, there’s no fucking stopping him —he’ll keep her close and kill everything she has ever held dear.

My eyes widen and my hold around her arm loosens.

You’re not a dog.

Lucio didn’t save you.

You were never a dog, Jasper. Costa has always —

The words swirl around my head like a fucking tornado.

The images of a small boy being shoved into the basement by his mother barges into my mind.

She was crying but held a finger to her mouth and told him to stay quiet. Screams echoed in the air, cries, shots.

Lots of fucking shots.

The boy’s face was ashen, pale. I watch his lips trembling and his eyes welling with tears as if I’m there with him.

He doesn’t cry, though. He can’t. He wants to come out of there and protect his mama and his little sister because that’s what his dad told him, he said it’s his duty to protect his family.

His mother shrieks as she falls back against the opening, covering him from view. Her vacant blue eyes stare at him, then out of nowhere, blood trickles down her mouth and drips on his face.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

“All done, boss.”

“Wrap it up,” the malicious very familiar voice, says. “I want this line in the newspaper tomorrow, the Vitallio family died in unfortunate shooting.”

Laughter breaks down and it’s like scratching on a board to that boy’s ears. His mother’s vacant eyes stare at him, his baby sister is no longer crying like usual. His father and nonna and the servants are all gone.

It’s only him now.

The only Vitallio with no family to protect.

“Jasper?”

“Jasper!”

A soft voice calls my name before a palm touches my face.

I grab it with my other hand and twist it back, nearly breaking it.

My little Petal shrieks and I let her go with a jerk. I’m breathing heavily, as if my lungs are about to give up on me.

Fuck! Fuck!

The boy, that boy was me. I’m the last of the Vitallio that the Costa family finished in cold blood.

Enzo and Serrano knew that. Just how many more knew I killed for the family that slaughtered mine?

“Fuck!”

“Jas… are you okay?” My little Petal’s small arms wrap around my waist tentatively. It’s clear she’s scared, but instead of running away, of leaving me be with my dark thoughts, she chooses to come closer.

I wrap my arms around her waist and lower my head to hers, breathing her in, her scent and her calm.

My little Petal has always been my calm, even when we were kids.

For a few seconds, it’s peace. It’s just me, Petal and the silence surrounding us like a cocoon.

“Jas, what is it?”

“Pack your things, we’re leaving.”

She jerks away as if I hit her. “What?”

“You heard me.” There’s no way in fuck I’m leaving her in Lucio Costa’s orbit.

I’m not exactly sure where we’ll go from here, but it has to be away from Lucio’s orbit.

Petal might me a Costa heir, but she’s also my little Petal.

“I can’t just leave,” she says slowly, spooked almost. “I have a life here, I have work, friends, my cats!”

“Those don’t fucking matter.”

“Of course they do. You can’t just tell me to leave.”

“You’re a mafia princess, Pet. And do you know what they do to mafia princesses? They marry them off to be abused and impregnated. They usually die of mental illness, or in my mom’s case, a fucking bullet to the heart. Don’t make me repeat myself, pack your fucking things.”

Her lips part and she opens her mouth to say something but soon closes it then opens it again. “W-what the hell are you talking about?”

I grab her by the arm. “You’ll find out when we’re out of here.”

“No.” She wiggles free. “I’m not going with you.”

“Georgie.”

“If you make me, I’m calling the cops.”

I reach into my pocket and thrust the phone in her hand. “Do it, then.”

“W-what?”

I dial 911 for her then put it on speaker. “There you go. Tell them to come for me. Do it, Pet.”

Her bottom lip trembles and she stares between me and the phone as if it’s some sort of doom.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

I mouth, ‘Do it.’

Her frantic gaze bounces between me and the phone.

“Hello?” the lady asks. “This is 911, how may I help you?”

Last chance, Petal.

A tear slides down her cheek as she hits the hang-up icon.

My little Petal doesn’t want me gone. Not that I would’ve allowed them to take me, but the fact she didn’t push a report despite having the chance means a lot fucking more than she could ever imagine.

She just sealed her fate.

“This doesn’t mean I’m going with you.” She juts her chin. “I won’t.”

I reach for her neck and wrap my fingers around it. It’s a soft touch that my little Petal leans into with no protest. My head lowers and I capture her lips in a quick soft kiss.

She moans against my mouth as I squeeze the two points. She barely has a moment to react before she slowly sags against me, her eyes fluttering closed. “Jasper…?”

“Sleep, my pet. We have a long journey ahead.”

Her body sags against mine, and I tuck her to me as I dial the number with my other hand.

“Enzo Morelli speaking. Who is this?”

“Alessio Vitallio,” I say.

“You figured it out.” There’s a smile in his voice.

“About that offer, I’m taking it.”

31

GEORGINA

I wake up in a room I don't know.

It's cold and I'm buried under what feels like a dozen blankets. There's something around my neck, too. Something heavy and constricting.

I raise my hands to touch it. It's a steel collar, firmly placed around my throat. I groan and tug at it to get it off, but when I try, a small electric current runs through the collar, shocking me. Yelping, I pull my hands back and get out from under the blankets.

I'm naked. Completely, utterly naked.

The feeling of being cold seeps away, and I realize just how sluggish and slow I feel. I dig through my thoughts to find my very last memory.

Jasper.

He kissed me in my kitchen, wrapping his hands around my throat and then… nothing.

My heart pounds hard and fast. Did he… did he black me out with pressure points or something? He's fucking crazy. Unpredictable. And the worst part is, choking me until I faint is something I can easily imagine him doing.

"Good morning, Petal."

Eyes widening, I raise my head to the doorframe. There he is, leaning against the door with a smirk on his face and my favorite mug in his hands.

I work hard so my cat can have a better life.

The words mock me. How easy my life had been when I got that mug. I never suspected any of this would ever happen to me.

"Jas, where are w-we?" I hate my weakness, the way I stutter. But I swallow down my pride and keep my gaze locked with his.

My stalker.

My tormentor.

And now, my captor.

"We needed a little break from the city," he says easily. "So I thought I'd bring you to my home country."

"Your... h-home country?" I repeat, glancing around the room again. I run to the window and look out. It's getting dark, but from what I can see, we're right in the middle of a forest or a farm or something. There's merely a gravel path leading up to an old mansion. "Where is this place?”

“Sicilia. Benvenuto in Italia.”

Sicily. Italy? Holy shit. How the fuck did we leave American soil? I never left the state, let alone the whole damn country. And how…how could he smuggle an unconscious person that easily and even find a place this fast? Knowing how crazy Jasper is, this shouldn’t be surprising, but it is.

One moment I was in my kitchen, the next I’m in Europe altogether.

I want to scream and curse at him, but I know that method won’t work and will only bring me trouble, so I pretend I’m not freaking out and lift my chin. “Why have you brought me here, Jasper?"

"We're staying. For a long time.”

"What? You can't just... fucking kidnap me! Are you crazy? What about my cats?"

He smirks, his eyes saying, Of course they're the first things you'd think of, crazy fucking cat lady.

"They'll be fine. Dinah and Katya will take care of them, won't they?"

I swallow again, forcing myself to calm down.

Okay, don't panic. Just work with him until you can get the hell out of here.

"What about my job?" I ask next. "They won't understand if I just disappear."

He shrugs carelessly. "I don't see how that's my problem."

I'm about to start arguing when I notice a little device in his hand. He sees me looking and opens his palm. It's a long tube with a button on the end of it, and he presses it, sending another shock through the collar I've been forced to wear.

"What the fuck is this thing?" I claw at my neck to get it off to no avail.

"Some jewelry for you. You like it?"

"No, I fucking hate it." I glare at him. "Why are you treating me like some kind of prisoner?"

"Because that's what you are." He sets the cup and the remote down just out of my reach, grinning when my eyes follow his motions. "For the foreseeable future, at least. Until I get tired of you."

"You can't do this. You can't just steal me away. People will come looking."

"How will they know where the fuck to look, Petal?" His lips tug in a smirk. “Or in which country?”

"I'm going to run," I warn him.

"You just try." He laughs, like this is somehow amusing to him. "I'd love to see how far you get with that collar on.”

“Jasper…” I soften my voice trying to plead to the human side of him. “Didn’t we…connect?”

“That we did and we’re going to connect even more when we play a little game.”

"What game?" I narrow my eyes at him.

"Hide and seek like we used to play when we were kids. Remember, Petal?" He steps right up to me and gently tugs on a strand of my hair.

His fingers brush down my chest and over a nipple. A shiver runs through me as both nipples tighten for attention. It doesn’t matter what he does, I’ll always, always have this dip in my stomach whenever he touches me.

“That’s the spirit.” His lips tug in a smirk.

I shake my head, whispering, "I’m not playing.”

His hand moves slowly down my stomach and between my legs. I’m hot down there. Hot and wet and so ready for more.

“I think you really do want to play,” he says, sliding a finger through my wet slit and pressing against my clit.

I can’t help the little sigh of pleasure. I want him. I hate him. I love him. I love him not.

“I’m not playing,” I grind out again.

"See, you don't have a choice." He sucks his finger clean before he walks over to the remote and shocks me with the thing in the collar again, making me scream. Not because it hurts that bad, but because I hate how much control he has over me right now. "Scream all you want. There's no one around for miles. Now, play time."

He attaches a chain to my collar and I hiss at him as he tugs on it, laughing like this is some sort of game. He leads me outside, where the dying rays of sunlight are seeping into the horizon, coloring the sky in a rich, dark red.

"What are you doing?" I demand.

"You know, there’s a folklore here that says demons come out to play after dusk. I’m just keeping up traditions.”

I don’t know where this going, but I don’t like it, not one bit. “Jas…no.”

“Yes.” He tugs me again, causing me to yelp. “You're going to run for it.”

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I fucking said so." He forces me to my knees and tugs on my leash while I stare up at him with hate-filled eyes. "Run and hide, Petal. If you return to the house before I catch you, you win, and I'll take you back to the States and your precious cats."

Hope flares in my chest, but I ask, "What if you catch me?"

“I'm going to fuck your ass and take your last virgin hole for myself, Petal. After that, you’ll stay with me, where you fucking belong, and you’ll be a good little Pet."

He unclips the chain from my collar.

"But you can shock me at any second." I tug on the stupid collar. "Doesn't seem fair to me."

"Nobody said it was going to be fair." He smirks. "I'm giving you a sixty-second head start. Aren't I nice?"

Nice, my ass.

Before I can say anything, he starts counting. I scramble to my feet. I'm naked, fucking naked, it's going to get cold, and I'm in a place, a country, I don’t recognize. I don't even have any shoes on.

Jas watches with delight, continuing to count with a sadistic gleam in his icy eyes.

I’m going to catch you, fuck you, own you. Those eyes say without a word.

Not if I run. I scream back with my eyes and set off foe the forest.

My legs take control I keep running until the sound of him counting down finally fades away.

He's living out another one of my fantasies.

I flatten my back against a tree, swallowing a cry as I remember the exact video. Two girls, kidnapped on a camping trip, hunted down by a man who hurts them both.

I'd gotten off so many times to that video. Now, it was time to experience the real thing.

Footsteps come from behind me and I force myself to breathe as quietly as possible. Fuck. He can't find me. I want to go home.

Or do I?

Once again, Jas is fucking with my head, and I don't know whether I love it or hate it.

I wait for the sound of his footsteps to fade away before taking off in the other direction.

As my feet repeatedly hit the ground, scraping against the twigs and fallen leaves, the first real smile I've had graces my lips.

He's giving me exactly what I want.

And I might be giving him what he needs.

He catches me. He catches me not.

TO BE CONTINUED

The story ends in He Hates Me Not.

WHAT’S NEXT?

Thank you so much for reading He Hates Me! If you liked it, please leave a review!

Your support means the world to us.

Next up is the second and final part of the duet, He Hates Me Not.

Release dates: April 23rd, 2020.

He Hates Me Not Blurb

Once upon a time, there was a girl.

She hid secrets and scars behind a blinding smile.

Until I decided to confiscate that smile, watch it, trap it, own it.

She calls it an obsession, a madness, but she’s seen nothing.

The moment I noticed her, her fate was sealed.

Then she became a key player in my unhinged game.

Once upon a time, there was a girl, a liar, a fraud.

Mine.

Pre-order now.

ABOUT RINA KENT

Rina Kent is an international bestselling author of everything enemies to lovers romance.

Darkness is her playground, suspense is her best friend, and twists are her brain’s food. However, she likes to think she’s a romantic at heart in some way, so don’t kill her hopes just yet.

Her heroes are anti-heroes and villains because she was always the weirdo who fell in love with the guys no one roots for. Her books are sprinkled with a touch of mystery, a healthy dose of angst, a pinch of violence, and lots of intense passion.

Rina spends her private days in a peaceful town in North Africa daydreaming about the next plot idea or laughing like an evil mastermind when those ideas come together.

Don’t forget to Sign up to Rina Kent’s Newsletter for news about future releases and an exclusive gift.

Connect with Rina:

Website

Neswsletter

Reader Group

ALSO BY RINA KENT

TEAM ZERO SERIES

Lured

Crowed

Ghosted

Shadowed

Misted

Team Zero Boxset 1-3

THE RHODES SERIES

Remorse (FREE)

Ruin

ROYAL ELITE SERIES

Cruel King

Deviant King

Steel Princess

Twisted Kingdom

Black Knight

Vicious Prince

Ruthless Empire

LIES & TRUTHS DUET

All The Lies

All The Truths

HATE & LOVE DUET

He Hates Me

He Hates Me Not

ABOUT ISABELLA STARLING

USA Today bestselling author Isabella Starling describes her books with three words: dark, dirty and forbidden.

If you pick up a Starling book, you can count on a bad-mouthed, bossy man who will dominate his woman with a rough hand. Add just a sprinkle of taboo, a touch of BDSM and a pinch of suspense, and you're all set for a story you won't forget.

Like my Facebook page → https://www.facebook.com/authorisabellastarling/

Join my reader group on Facebook → https://www.facebook.com/groups/goodgirlslovebadboys/

Newsletter (get a FREE taboo novel when you join) → http://subscribepage.com/isabellastarling

ALSO BY ISABELLA STARLING

Writing as Isabella Starling (erotic romance): STANDALONES

Pet

Peep Show

Confess

His Brat

His Doll

His Muse

DADDY BOOKS

Teach me Daddy

Daddy's Girl

Daddy Dearest (FREE newsletter novel)

EMPIRE SIN

Wrath

Envy

PRINCESS AFTER DARK

Collaring Cinderella

Breaking Belle

CHRISTMAS NOVELLAS

Sugar Plum (cowritten with Jenika Snow)

Mistletoe Kisses (cowritten with Sam Mariano)

FALLEN DYNASTY (cowritten with Kelli Callahan)

Devil’s Captive

Devil’s Toy

Devil’s Sinner

Writing as Fawn Bailey (dark BDSM romance): ROSE & THORN

Blush Pink Rose (free newsletter prequel)

Blood Red Rose (book 1)

Pure White Rose (book 2)

Last Broken Rose

Precious Golden Rose (free newsletter bonus epilogue)

GILDED CAGE

Entrapment (free prequel)

Ensnarement (book 1)

Entanglement (book 2)

Enticement (book 3)

THE DAZZLING COURT

Rich Man's Toy (free prequel)

Dark Castle (book 1)

Wicked Prince (book 2)

STANDALONES

The Emperor

Writing as Betti Rosewood (new adult romance): LORDS OF WILDWOOD (standalone novels, light new adult)

Boys That Tease

Boys That Read

ELITE OF EDEN FALLS PREP (dark new adult bully romance)

A Hurt So Sweet Volume One

A Hurt So Sweet Volume Two

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Contents

Author Note

Blurb

Playlists

1. Jasper

2. Georgina

3. Jasper

4. Georgina

5. Jasper

6. Georgina

7. Jasper

8. Georgina

9. Jasper

10. Georgina

11. Jasper

12. Georgina

13. Jasper

14. Georgina

15. Jasper

16. Georgina

17. Jasper

18. Georgina

19. Jasper

20. Georgina

21. Jasper

22. Georgina

23. Jasper

24. Georgina

25. Jasper

26. Georgina

27. Jasper

28. Georgina

29. Jasper

30. Jasper

31. Georgina

What’s Next?

About Rina Kent

Also By Rina Kent

About Isabella Starling

Also By Isabella Starling