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“We’ll keep an eye out, Ms. Crown. Don’t worry.”
“Thanks, George,” I say quietly. “I appreciate it.”
After Amelia brings coffee, she shuts the door and leaves me to it. But instead of diving into the frankly insane amount of work I need to get through with Gabriel leaving, I can’t focus on any of it.
There’s something else on my mind.
Someone else.
My face burns with heat. A dirty, deviant sensation slithers through my psyche, electrifying my skin. A needy pulse tugs at my core as my thighs clench.
All further proof that I’m insane, as if I needed more convincing.
Last night, a monster broke into my hotel room. A monster who pinned me to the wall, cut away my clothes, and ran a fucking knife over my body.
…A monster who almost made me come with that very knife rubbing my clit.
I’m not insane. I’m deranged.
Broken. Unhinged. Unwell.
Because even after everything that happened later, just thinking about that first part of the night has my pulse quickening and my nipples tightening.
My panties growing damp.
I didn’t just let him do those things.
I liked it.
Or at least, I did until it all went wrong. Until something shifted behind his eyes, and his look turned from malevolent to downright malicious. From dangerous to furious.
Until he called me Annika, called me his fucking wife, and tried to abduct me.
My skin prickles.
The one saving grace in all this Venom shit has been me telling myself that none of it is “real”. I’ve convinced myself of the “fantasy” aspect in all of this: that these men I could theoretically connect with on the app aren’t actual psychopaths who want to hurt me or murder me. They’re rich, powerful, vetted men who happen to have the same slightly south of the border kinks that I do.
Except as I replay last night, especially the later parts, I’m suddenly not so sure.
That wasn’t a game to him. He looked at me like I was his worst enemy. For real.
A knock on my office door startles me from my haunting thoughts. I yank my eyes up, spotting Alistair through the glass walls just before he lets himself in.
“Heard you were here bright and early,” he grunts, bearing a coffee mug that says Captain Sunshine! and is covered with grinning, cheerful anthropomorphic rainbows and suns.
“Yeah, I—” My brows knit. “What the fuck is with the mug?”
Alistair, who might be the least likely candidate for the title of “Captain Sunshine” in the history of the world, rolls his eyes. “Eloise got it for me.”
“I love that woman,” I sigh. “Maybe try to keep her this time around?”
“Har fucking har,” he mutters. He nods at the stack of legal documents on my desk. “Gabriel shit?”
“Gabriel shit,” I reply grimly.
Alistair sighs. “I can’t believe Elsa only said ‘maybe’. It would make all our lives way easier if she’d just take the damn job.” He makes a face. “Stupid baby.”
I snort. “What, you and Eloise not thinking about kids?”
