Page 42 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

“Saylor.” Wren’s voice is firm, but understanding.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to assume, because⁠—”

“Saylor,” he interrupts again, this time leaning his forearms on his desk. “Stop for five seconds, please.”

Finally, I look up at him, and I’m shocked to see the wide smile on his lips, and the way his eyes flicker with amusement. A quick look at Cass shows me he’s trying and failing to cover a grin, and his shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Is he mad at me?” I whisper, unable to stop myself. “Does he want me to just never show up again? I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“He’s driven past your apartment four times a day, every day, since you’ve been gone,” Cass interrupts this time, his voice edged with amusement. “I can assure you, he isn’t mad at you. And he’d love for you to show up anywhere he’s at. He doesn’t want to pressure you.” He turns to look at Wren, still unable to help himself. “Tell me you acted like this with Hazel when you first met her.”

Wren makes a face and shakes his head. “I showed up too much at her apartment for her to ever think I wasn’t obsessed with her. Clearly, space was the wrong answer, judging by the way the two of you are pining for each other.” He snorts, and when my shoulders drop, gestures for me to take the chair in front of his desk. “Sit, before you fall.”

I sit. Hard. And only belatedly think that it might have been rude.

“The first thing you need to understand about Jed,” Wren begins, resting his folded hands on the table in front of him. “Is that he’s the sweetest, most oblivious creature to ever roam the earth. So…” He glances at Cass, his smile turning wicked.

“So?” I prompt, heart thumping in my chest.

“What are you doing for dinner tonight?”

21

More than any other time in my life, I can say with certainty that I have no fucking idea what in the world I’m doing. Which, so far, seems to be the theme of my day. “What are you doing, Saylor?” I mutter, throwing myself back against my seat. I’ve been at the restaurant now for a solid ten minutes, and the whole time I’ve been here hiding in my car, I’ve made sure no one walking in could see me.

Hopefully.

I could still run away, after all. There’s a tiny part of me screaming about the fact I’m going to dinner with serial killers. Plus, the one I care about the most has a penchant for horror history’s goriest, nastiest weapon.

I’m probably insane, if I had to guess. Maybe I hit my head between the night at the preserve and now, because this is possibly the worst decision I’ve ever made. By far.

On the bright side, I look better now than I did at the preserve, or at Jed’s house. My hair is brushed and back in a half-up ponytail. Thanks to having my bathroom at my disposal, I’d been able to even curl it some and put on eyeliner. Any more makeup than that would’ve been too much, and disingenuous to what I normally have the motivation for on a daily basis.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I mutter to the backs of my eyelids. Even in clothes that make me look less like a traveling hobo, I still have absolutely no confidence in what I’m about to do. Dressed in a short black skirt, black boots, a tucked in black shirt, and my favorite jacket, I should feel at least okay about myself.

Instead, I feel like I’m dressed in a paper bag.

On the other hand, I’ve made it this far. And I know for certain that if I go home now without even going inside, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.

Even if the guy I’ve dressed up for is a serial killer. That part will never not bother me, I’ve decided. But something about his face, and the way Jed had treated me, makes my heart ache to get over the small, itty bitty sticking point of him murdering the shit out of people with a chainsaw.

Either way, I need to make a decision now. Because there won’t be any going back, no matter what I choose.

You’re a safe option person, my brain tells me comfortingly. And…she’s right. I’ve always picked the safer option, from clothing to my job. Never having the guts to take the risky path. I like to know that my path is as secure as I can make it, and that there’s very little risk involved. Maybe it’s boring and a little disappointing, but at least I’ve never been in a situation I couldn’t get myself through. Not to mention, I’ve never been low on money when rent time rolled around, or when I needed to go grocery shopping.

Safe is…well, safe. It’s an attractive option for a reason.

But going in there right now and confronting Jed is the absolute opposite of safe. It’s dangerous and risky, for all the reasons that parade through my head to the tune of “Night On Bald Mountain.” Hell, I’m even sure the devil is dancing in his mountain somewhere inside my skull, egging on the fears and worries of my choice.

I should go home. Live safely. Coerce my plants to come back to life and wait for my step-mother to call.

But instead of turning the key in the ignition, I yank it out and stuff my keys in the pocket of my jacket. Next I pocket my phone, and before I know it, I’m kicking open my door and all but slamming it shut. Then, after a quick apology to Miss Roxie Hart for my rough treatment of her, I walk toward the door like I’m James Bond on a mission to rescue his love interest in that particular movie.

I don’t expect the restaurant to be so nice. Not even when I’d been staring at The Cascades’ exterior and patio for the past ten minutes from the safety of my Jeep. A chandelier in the small entryway catches my attention, and soon my eyes are drawn to the glass-walled wine room not too far away and the dark, sultry interior of the place.

Yeah, I’ve definitely never been anywhere as nice as here. Except maybe for the one dinner I joined my Dad and step-mom for one of their anniversary celebrations.

“Can I help you?” The hostess is polite, and beams at me from the stand. Dressed in black and white with a tidily knotted tie that sits perfectly at her throat, she’s every bit as polished as the restaurant itself.