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She straightened her shoulders and neatened her blouse. ‘Well, that was different. Just be aware the heat is on. Take it easy with the torture. If someone has to die, at least make it look accidental.’
‘Yes, Ma’am,’ I said.
‘Ew, don’t call me that. Now, more importantly, you said you liked her sister?’ Maeve sat back down and rested her chin on one palm.
‘Did I?’
‘Ewen, don’t make me come over there and pry it out of you. I thought you were more into observing than interacting with women?’
Swallowing, I shut the file and sighed. She wasn’t going to let it go. ‘Fine. But don’t go getting weird about it. It’s not serious.’
‘I swear,’ she said, holding three fingers up in a scout’s honour.
‘There’s something about her. She makes me need to be near her. I’m just trying to get her out of my system to see if it’s some sort of glitch.’
Maeve rolled her eyes. ‘Falling for someone isn’t a glitch, you ass.’
‘I’m not falling for her. I barely know her.’
‘Does she make your heart beat faster when you think about her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to make her smile?’
‘Yes.’ And make her cry, and moan, and sigh.
‘Would you go to insane lengths to spend a moment with her? You know, like killing her sister’s dickhead boyfriend?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sounds like it’s more than a glitch. I’d say you’ve got it real bad.’ Maeve grinned and I pursed my lips.
‘We haven’t even slept together.’
Her laughter rose in the room, bouncing off the panelling and surrounding me. ‘Oh boy. If she’d got you this hooked without sex, well, fuck, make sure I’m on the wedding guest list.’
‘It’s not like that,’ I said. A picture of her in a wedding dress and moaning beneath me flashed through my head, and I shook it loose. I didn’t want that. Didn’t need that.
I’d never needed that.
I wanted rough and hard. Pain and tears. Not love. Not romance.
‘We’ll see,’ Maeve said as I stood to leave, done with her nonsense for the day.
It was time to push Cora. Show her it’s nothing but lust. An itch to scratch.
To show her the depths of my depravity.
To show myself.
The heady scent of peaches hit me as I opened her bedroom door. Cora sat by the window, peach juice dripping down her chin as she scrolled through her phone. My voice rang out through the space, and I realised she was rewatching the video I left for her.
She hadn’t run.
The dozens of bags I’d delivered had been pushed to one side of the room, with various outfits laid on the bed—presumably where she’d been trying them on.
'Ewen!" she squeaked, startled when I walked in unannounced. Quickly shutting off the video, she got to her feet and dropped her phone on the table as if it was on fire.
