Page 23 of Vicious Little Darling

Her cheeks blush, and I wonder what’s going through her head as we scoot down the counter to wait for the coffees to be ready. I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to keep my heartbeat steady. I’m a calculating, conniving serial killer. Not whoever the fuck she thinks is taking her to coffee, but…

But I feelwayout of my element right now.

“Here you go,” the barista slides them across the countertop, and I pick them up, holding Ember’s out for her. We find a table in the back and take a seat. Her back is to the door, while I sit facing it.

“So, Xander,” she says, taking a sip of her hot drink. “Are you a native to NYC?”

I hesitate, unprepared for these kinds of questions. I clearly didn’t think this part through. “Kind of,” I answer her honestly. “My mom moved here to live with my uncle when I was in high school. Originally, we lived in Connecticut, though. You?”

“No,” she says, letting out a sigh. “My parents live on the other side of the country, in Utah.”

“Utah?” I can’t hide my surprise. “You don’t seem like someone from Utah.”

She narrows her eyes. “I don’t know how to take that, but okay.”

“You seem like you’re from the city, is what I mean,” I chuckle, running my finger across the fine dust on the tabletop. I cringe, the tidy perfectionist in me is instantly sickened. “It’s a compliment.”

“Oh,” she says, blowing out a puff of air. “I guess I always assume the worst.”

“Fair enough.” I force myself to take a sip of the bitter liquid. I never go out to get coffee. It’s always disappointing—and this time is no different. But I don’t show it. “Tell me more about yourself. All I know is that you spend a lot of time reading.”

She laughs. “Not really. I don’t have as much time to read as you’d think.”

“Oh?” I raise a brow. “So you haven’t read the books you recommended?”And I threw them away in the trash.

She visibly shrinks in the chair, eyes darting down to her cup. “Guilty.”

I can’t help it. I smile. “Hey, whatever the job calls for. No judgment from me.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles, her confidence waning right in front of me. I tilt my head as I study her for a few beats, catching her eyes down on her drink. She’s so incredibly confident in front of everyone else I’ve seen her with… Why is she doing this with me? I can’t decide if I like it or not.

“If you’re not reading or working, what do you do in your free time?” I feel like I’m reciting online suggestions for a first date—and this, well, this isn’t a fucking date. Er. Maybe it is? I don’t know.

“I hang out with my friends,” she perks up. “My best friend, Josh, owns the bar you interviewed at. He’s been my friend since college here in the city.”

And he’s in love with you.

“It’s good to have friends like that,” I say instead, feigning support.

She nods eagerly. “He’s always been there for me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him, so many times. Moving to the city from a small town was really tough at first. I’m thankful I did it in college, though.”

“I bet,” I say, just as my phone begins to ring. I pull it out of my pocket and see my uncle’s name on the screen.Shit.I hold up a finger. “I should probably take this.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.”

I push back from my chair and step away before answering. I donotwant her to catch even a single word of this conversation.

Chapter Twelve

EMBER

Istare after Xander. His back is turned to me as he speaks softly on the phone. I don’t know where my courage came from when I recognized him on the street, but it’s the perfect distraction for my mind right now—and trust me, I need one. I’m in the middle of a crisis.

A fucking moral crisis.

Ileta masked stalker face and finger fuck me and, as much as I want to say I was drunk, I know damn well that I was sober enough to know what was going on. Iwantedhim to do it, and even now, the thought of him between my legs sends a tingle of excitement through my body.

I’m so unbelievably fucked up.I nearly groan as I pull my eyes away from Xander, the nice, way-too-hot-for-me stranger. If the poor guy knew what I’d done to fuck my head up so badly that I didn’t feel like going to work, he’d probably sprint out of here—and never give me a second look again.

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