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From the moment she’d arrived at the group home after her parents’ deaths, tears were an ever-present companion. More often than not, I’d find her curled up in some corner, sobbing over what she’d lost.
I’d had it much better than her. I couldn’t remember the parents who kicked me to the curb, but she’d actually watched her parents disappear. Watched her dad kill her mom…and then himself. The file the P.I. had put together on her hadn’t offered much detail about her adoptive parents, just that they were wealthy socialites who frequented NYC’s social scene.
But it didn’t take a fortune teller to guess they hadn’t been good to her. That they’d maybe even been abusive. Made me even more fucking mad at her “other” because he had done a piss poor job of protecting her the last couple of years. If I hadn’t lost her, I would have done everything to keep her safe.
Anything.
Blake had always been an intoxicating mix of fragility and strength. A masterpiece if there ever was one. Now that I had her back, I would make it my life’s mission to see her smile. To replace the haunted expression in her eyes with happiness.
She was staring out her window now, and I had to hold myself back from tipping her head toward me, so I could look at her, gauge how she was doing.
Blake was so in her head she hadn’t even thought to ask how I’d found her. Which was a good thing, since saying that I happened to spot her as I was driving on a random street in one of the biggest cities in the world seemed a little unbelievable.
Still a better answer, though, than telling her I’d been waiting outside her audition because I was her living, breathing, obsessed stalker.
I turned on some Tay-Tay to try to get her talking, and sure enough, after “High Infidelity” started playing—a banger of a track, by the way—she turned her head back toward me.
“I’m starting to believe there’s nothing wrong with you,” she blurted out, a gorgeous shade to her cheeks as I glanced at her, amused.
“Sunshine, you might be onto something there,” I grinned, flashing her what I knew was a panty-melting smile.
Her blush deepened.
I did think it was perfect that I was so obsessed with her I’d followed her to L.A., bugged her phone, and planted drugs in her boyfriend’s car. All the other fun things I had planned were prettyperfectas well.
A few minutes later, I pulled up to a bakery I’d found my second day here, when I needed help with my midnight brownie tradition. Her violet eyes stared at me questioningly.
"I find that sugar always makes me feel better," I mused, opening the car door.
She hesitated, her gaze flickering to the tempting treats on display in the window. "Not when you make a living on how you look," she whispered, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
I made a show of running my gaze from her toes to her angelic face until she was squirming on my seat. "Sugar won't change perfection, Blake. It'll just make it sweeter."
A bashful smile graced her lips, and she searched my face as if she was making sure I really meant that. “Sugar does sound good,” she finally murmured, something that looked a lot like adoration in her eyes.
Good job, Ari, I told myself. Because it was important to give yourself mental high fives when you were fucking amazing.
“Stay right there,” I told her hurriedly when she tried to open her own fucking door. Was it weird I got actual anxiety at the thought of her letting herself out?
Yes.
Was I going to worry about that?
No.
I hustled to her door and opened it, pulling just a little harder on her hand than I needed to so that she fell against my chest. I was taking any opportunity I had to have her touch me.
The bakery was a cozy little place, tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. A small smile caught Blake’s lips when we stepped in and she caught a whiff of all the sugar. She obviously had good taste because it smelledbombin here.
Blake scanned the glass display. I usually would have scanned it too, but of course I was watching her. Because that seemed to be all I did nowadays.
Her eyes darted from one tempting treat to the next. But she seemed to get more agitated the longer she looked.
The way she doubted herself puzzled me; she was nothing short of perfection. Why couldn’t she see that?
Taking a chance, I leaned over the glass counter, almost jumping when I saw how intensely the teen employee was staring at me.
A little less eye contact, thank you very much.
