Page 74 of Ghosted

I should run. I know that. I even look at the door, because apparently my brain would like to submit one final suggestion before making peace with the consequences.

Johnny follows my eyes, then sighs like I’ve disappointed him. “Alice.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to think about running, at least commit. The little glance is fucking insulting.”

“You’re insane.”

“Heard that before, now it’s rather boring.”

“I hate you.”

“Better, but still lazy.”

He sets the bulb carefully on the counter. Carefully. Like manners matter now. Then his hand closes around my wrist, fast and smooth, and the tongs hit the floor before I can swing.

Johnny looks down at them, then back at me. “See? Terrible weapon choice.”

I yank against his grip. “Let go.”

“Say please.”

“Fuck you.”

His grin flashes. “Mmm. Much better.”

I shove at him with my free hand, but he catches that too and lifts both of my wrists above my head. The chain brushes my skin, cold and thin, and my breath catches before I can stop it.

He notices, and his face changes.

His expression changing to something, hungrier.

“Well,” he says quietly. “That was new.”

He leans closer, and I can smell rain on his jacket, smoke under it, something expensive and wrong beneath both. “With Jagger,” he says, looping the chain once around my wrists, “you get to pretend it’s simple. Big scary fighter. Bad decisions. A little cut on your pretty tit. Very dramatic. Very him.”

I pull against the chain, but he’s already securing it with calm, practiced movements that make my stomach drop.

Johnny smiles up at my hands before looking back at my face. “But me? I’m not simple.”

“Let me go.”

“You don’t even believe yourself.”

My cheeks burn.

His gaze drops to the mark under my sweater again, and this time, when he brushes the fabric aside with one finger, I hate how still I go.

“See, that’s what I don’t understand,” he says, studying the thin red line. “He marked you like a warning.”

“Don’t touch it.”

Johnny’s eyes lift.

That was the wrong thing to say.

His finger hovers just beneath the cut, close enough to make my whole body lock.