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And if he tries leading my daughter on to get to Leighton, I’ll take care of him.
That’s one fertilizer I wouldn’t mind using in our garden.
“They’re brewing in my head.”
“Really?” Milo nearly cries with relief. “Tell me about your idea.”
I don’t buy it. She’s bluffing. Has to. Otherwise, she would’ve been here already.
“I’ll have them ready by next week. Promise.”
No, you won’t, sweetheart.
She’s talented as fuck. But even she won’t find us in a week. It should take her longer.
I fucking hope so.
Milo looks straight over her head, nodding absentmindedly. “Okay.”
“Milo…” She presses herself to him while he ignores her. “Would you spend the night? It’s kind of scary, sleeping here alone.”
“What? Oh, uh—sure.” Her words finally register. Her nearness as well. He steps back, glancing behind her. “I’ll crash on the couch.”
“No, I mean, we could sleep together. In my bed.” Rylan pouts.
That’s the expression that always works for her when she wants to get something from me.
I’m her dad. I’ll take a bullet for her. Do anything other than sacrifice Leighton for her.
Milo wouldn’t. Completely immune to her manipulations, he walks back, putting even more space between them.
“Rylan, this isn’t the time for this.” He ends any and every chance for them to hook up.
One less thing to worry about as I stalk to the bedroom, eager to wake Leighton up.
He might be obsessed with her, but she doesn’t belong to him.
She’s mine. All fucking mine.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Marcus
Leighton’s blue eyes gaze at me longingly.
For a second.
She blinks the next, and that’s when realization dawns on her.
Awareness takes the place of sleepiness.
Horror trails close behind.
Ah, I see it. It’s there.
The process is slow. The process is fucking mesmerizing.
More captivating than watching the sun rise and set each day.
