Page 25 of Pretty Little Threats

“The bakery!”

Cassia nods. “I like your thinking. We should order a cake because I’m a genius.”

I burst out laughing. “No,” I say, catching my breath. “I mean, Frank’s Bakery. What if I hold it over his head?”

“Like a carrot.” Cassia hums as she sips her wine. “Or a gun.”

I pat her leg. “Settle down, killer. The bakery could be the leverage to get him to agree to marry me.”

“I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?”

“Anything is worth a shot if it means avoiding a marriage to Eric Vanderbelt.”

She shudders. “Agreed. So, when will you talk to Dare?”

I gulp down the rest of my wine. I’m going to need all the liquid courage I can get. “Can you still virtually disable automated locks?”

“Of course.” Her eyebrows jump. “Wait. You want to break into his house?”

I shrug. “How else am I supposed to ask him to marry me?”

“Who says romance is dead?” She rolls her eyes but heads to her desk. “This is a really bad idea.”

She’s right. It’s probably dangerous, too, but if my brief encounters with Eric are any indication, I don’t want to be his wife, and I’m willing to take big risks to keep that from happening. Plus, if I don’t go see Dare tonight, with wine fueling my confidence, I might chicken out.

“Desperate times.” I join her and watch her work her magic, focusing on how amazing she is and not the dread swirling in my gut. I’m about to enter the lair of the beast. Here’s hoping I make it out alive.

eight

ROSE

Dare’s homein Hudson Yards is magnificent, as expensive as my home in Tribeca but notably out of the way for someone who spends the majority of their time in the financial district. I wonder if he bought this property to put distance between himself and my family. The flat exterior of the brownstone is painted dark blue, the twin lamps on either side of the door giving the illusion of twinkling stars against a blanket of night.

I stare up at the darkened windows. The crisp breeze banking down the street and crashing into me practically topples me and my wobbling legs over. My heart is beating so hard, it almost hurts, and my body trembles as I walk up the stairs that lead to his door. Although Cassia disabled the camera before I left her place, I can’t help feeling like I’m being watched.

Thanks to her skills, we also discovered Dare had an evening appointment across the city on his calendar. Which means my Friday night consists of breaking and entering.Luckily, it’s as easy as sending a text to Cassia, and the biometric lock disengages and the keypad flashes green.

Dressed in all black—leggings and a long-sleeve shirt—I slink into the home, quietly closing the door behind me. No one is here, but part of me is terrified of alerting someone to my presence, despite Cassia’s assurance that she also disabled the motion and noise detectors.

How is it possible that even the air smells dangerous? A heady mix of masculine vetiver and musk threatens to choke me. Or maybe that’s the anxiety tightening my chest as darkness presses in.

Get it together, Rose. You made it this far.

The blueprints were easy enough to access, and I memorized the layout and saved pictures on my phone before I left Cassia’s loft.

Pristine, gleaming hardwood floors run the length of the foyer, which gives way to two staircases. A short one that leads to the second floor, which houses the kitchen, dining room, and guest bathroom, and another that leads to the basement that also functions as the first floor, with a living room, wet bar, another bathroom, and storage. There are four stories total, but the fourth is mostly open air, aside from a library and office, or at least, that’s what the blueprints showed the rooms to be. The third level has three bedrooms each, with their own en suites.

I head up the shorter staircase, intent on heading to his bedroom, stopping short when I spot a dark figure looming in the kitchen. My breath stutters in my chest. I squint and immediately scold myself for letting my childhood phobias get the better of me.

It’s the fridge.

Shaking my head, I breathe in and scan the darkened kitchen and dining room. Once I’m certain there’s no onelying in wait, and remind myself that shadow monsters aren’t real, I continue. My fingers tremble along the railing as I head up to the third level. A rug runs the length of a long hallway. The bedrooms take up one half of the building, and the other half is exposed to the level above and the one below.

I creep past the two guest bedrooms. Footsteps soft, air held tightly in my lungs, I’m as quiet as a mouse. Right as my hand closes around the door handle to the primary bedroom, I gather the rest of my confidence.

This has to work. I mean, sure, Dare could kill me when he gets home. It would be easy with no one else around. The fact that I’m willing to risk death over marrying Eric is...disturbing if I think about it for too long. But I can’t—won’t—become his trophy.

I twist the knob and slip into the room, pressing my back against the wall and sucking in a ragged breath of vetiver-scented air, as if I just finished a marathon. The darkness closes in around me, but this time, I can fight off my fears.

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