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Soon.
I haven’t been inside her house yet, but I think the time has come. Watching her from afar without ever being able to touch her is growing tiresome. I hadn’t meant for her to see me the other day at the park, but when that guy showed up, I simply couldn’t help myself.
The same urges are coming over me today. I need to see her up close, hear that melodic voice. Maybe she’ll drop something again and blurt one of those colorful curses I’m quickly becoming obsessed with.
I glance at my pocket watch, the long gold chain hanging from my slacks and mutter a curse. Maisy’s lunchbreak is nearly over and if I plan on finishing my portrait, I must work quickly.
Focusing on my muse once again, I bring the bristles to the canvas and capture the smattering of freckles across her nose. She seems distracted today. Every few bites, she glances at her phone. Whose call is she awaiting?
Shit. What if it’s that Jack guy from the park the other day?
Would she have dared to disobey me?
If that asshole thinks he can touch what’s mine and live to tell about it, he’s got another thing coming. My fingers curl around the brush handle, my knuckles white from the strain. I’ve been in a foul mood for weeks now, and it isn’t only this unquenchable, burning desire for my little fox. Ever since Jianjun, the leader of the Chinese Triad sold me out and joined forces with my half-brothers, I’ve been seething. I’m so close to bringing down the King’s empire I can practically taste it. Which is exactly why I don’t need this distraction…
Maisy has become an obsession in the past few months. I need to get her out of my system before she costs me what I’ve spent my entire life working toward. Annihilating King Industries.
My half-brothers inherited everything from our father, while Marco and I got nothing. We fought tooth and nail for everything we have today. We clawed our way up from dark alleyways to rub elbows with Manhattan’s elite.
I’ve come so far, I won’t lose it now.
A sharp squeal jerks my attention to Maisy. A dog has gotten loose, and the giant creature is jumping on her lap, dragging its filthy tongue across her face. Between bouts of giggles, she tries to shove the animal off.
Its owner comes running, an older man, his cheeks rosy from the exertion. The moment the dog sees the man, he takes off, straight toward me.
Shit.
Maisy’s gaze trails the mangy animal to my spot beneath the towering oak. Despite my best attempts at ducking behind the canvas, her eyes lock on mine. Damn it. One would think after months of this, I’d be better at remaining concealed.
But maybe a tiny part of me wants to be discovered.
Her mouth curves into a capital O as I straighten to my full height, and she takes me in. The big golden dog races past me with its owner hot on its heels. By the time I look up again, Maisy has packed up her lunch and is making her escape.
Dropping the paintbrush, I take off after her, deserting my masterpiece to weave between bicycles and a jogger who curses me out. Maisy had gone further into Central Park today giving her endless amounts of space to run from me, and more time to catch her.
“Maisy,” I shout.
She hurries over the small stone bridge and dips behind a towering rock formation. I’m practically jogging now to keep up with her, my tie flapping on the light spring breeze.
“Maisy, wait!”
She doesn’t even pause, the click-clack of her kitten heels matching the rapid tempo of my pulse. Fiery excitement surges through my veins. Has no one ever taught this woman never to run from a predator?
I circle the massive boulders and find Maisy on the ground, wincing. Her dress has ridden up to her thighs, exposing milky white legs. Her hand is wrapped around her ankle, and her lunch is splattered across the grass. Slowing my frenetic pace, I drag my hand through my hair, forcing the errant strands back.
“Are you hurt?” I keep my voice neutral despite the thrill coursing through my system.
“No!” She winces again as she holds her foot out and tries to wiggle her ankle. “Ugh, ow, that hurts like a mother trucker.”
I barely restrain a laugh at her absurd choice of words and instead, focus on the odd twist of her joint. I drop to the ground beside her and examine her foot. She lets out a squeak as my fingers gently graze her flesh. “It doesn’t seem broken, hopefully just a sprain.”
“Are you a doctor now? I thought your extracurricular activities were limited to stalking and kidnapping women.”
A smirk creeps across my lips. “I also like to paint.”
“How multi-talented of you.”
“Thank you. I’ve been working on a rather difficult piece today. My muse simply won’t keep still.”
