Page 43 of Pretty Little Threats

Fury explodes inside my chest. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

Mace’s pause is long andpointed.

“Don’t,” I say again, anticipating the lecture he was getting ready to start. “I’m handling it.”

“Fucking the enemy is handling it? She’s bending over and, dammnnn, okay. I get it. That ass is perfect.”

My phone creaks in my hold. “Get out of my security feed before I pay you a visit.”

Mace chuckles. “All right, Romeo, relax. But tell me, how does it feel to sleep with the enemy?”

“I’m going to kill you,” I snarl.

“No you won’t,” he replies, far too casually.

“Are you out?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Send me a picture of your monitors.”

Mace releases a put-upon sigh. “Fine. Now I’m really out. Are you happy?”

“No.”

“She must be a terrible lay if you’re?—”

I don’t hear the rest of his sentence, because I hang up on him. Fucker. He thinks this shit is funny. There’s nothing funny about the possessiveness coiling around me, demanding I head to Mace’s house and rip his monitors off his wall and smash them to bits, then slam my fist into his face, dislodging the memory of Rose bending over from his brain.

“Dare?” My lawyer’s voice snaps me back to the present.

Turning, I stare at Alexandra, certain my face is murderous, but she keeps an expectant look on her face, waiting for me to compose myself with all the professionalism of a named partner. Alexandra is the youngest partner, but she’s tenacious, ruthless in the courtroom, and perhapsthe best in her firm.

She taps the papers in front of me. “Is the prenup adequate?”

I’m not annoyed with her, so I push aside my anger and take a breath. “Sorry, yes. Thank you, Alexandra.”

“Once it’s signed, have it sent to me and I’ll email you a copy.” She doesn’t ask unnecessary questions or try to pry into my business; it’s part of why I like working with her.

As I grab the contract and place it into the protective folio, a text hits my phone. I glance at the device and smirk as the next part of my plan clicks into place.

Rose’s dress is ready.

fourteen

ROSE

I expectedDare to cage me in like a rabid animal, but the front door unlocked when I tested it. Though freedom is within my reach, escaping would mean staying in a constant state of anxiety, waiting for Dare to hand the evidence over to the NYPD.

So I stay. It’s Saturday, and while I’d usually go out and do something nice for myself, I’m not up for...well, anything, really. Surprising enough, my head is clear. I should probably be experiencing some type of remorse about Eric’s death, but all I feel is relief in knowing he’ll never again pose a threat to me or any other woman.

I tear through closet after closet, cabinet after cabinet, drawer after drawer, trying to find the murder weapon, but ultimately, I come up empty. Dare must’ve taken the knife with him, which isn’t good. There’s no telling where he might hide it. Eventually, hunger drives me from my search and into the kitchen. Dare has secrets. He knows the worst of mine and he’s using it against me. Figuring out what tohold against him will level the playing field. It’ll give me an opportunity to find a way out of our soon to bemarriage.

Anger simmers in my chest, and the cool air from the fridge does nothing to cool me off. I grab what I need to make myself a snack and slam the door closed.

Marriage. What a bunch of bullshit.

While I know most people in my world find themselves married for convenience or money, I’ve always clung to the promise Dad made me. I believed him. My eyes mist, but I blink the tears and betrayal away and turn to an easy target—Dare. The bakery. There’s still something there, I’m sure of it. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to want to escape. This might be my one chance to find something real to use against him.

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