Page 106 of Black Sheep

Because I realize I’m yearning for this part of him, while desperately bricking up monstrous parts of him I don’t want to see. It won’t end well for me because a secret part of me craves that monster too. It’s part of who he is.

Which makes me…what?

“Are you ready?”

I glance up at the low, deep voice. He’s standing in the doorway of the dressing room, his fingers moving over his phone. The phone that hasn’t been out of reach for the past forty-eight hours.

I frown. “Are you…Is everything alright?” An absurd question considering our circumstances.

“Fine.” His answer is clipped, but behind his eyes, I see a storm brewing.

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”

He looks around the room before his eyes meet mine. “I don’t want to. But you do. So we’re going.”

I turn away, and under the pretext of slipping on my shoes, I hide my turmoil. This prison is slowly strangling me. Especially since my conversation with B. Reliving it, I feel the crazy cascade of emotions again.

He’s seriously obsessed with you.

A punch in my belly, followed by a frantic head shake. He’s not. He can’t be.

Her mocking laughter. I’m pretty sure he can.

No. You don’t know what…You don’t know him.

Oh honey, do any of us ever truly know another person?

Maybe not, but what he’s…done…

Then why are you here? And don’t give me a story about not having a choice. I’m not exactly prying you off the ledge when we have lunch on the rooftop. You laugh more with him than you do with me. And come to think of it, he’s threatened to rip my head off every time I’ve come to get you, but he’s smiled more in the last week than…shit, ever. What you’re saying to me now may be a whole lot of truth, but even with a gun to your head, you still have a choice.

I don’t.

Well, test it. See if what I’m saying is true. What’s the worst that can happen?

My hands shook so hard I nearly dropped the glass.

Shit, forget that part. But a part of you is certainly enjoying…whatever this is. You fucking glow when he walks into the room. You may not think so but some part of you trusts him a whole lot. And please spare me the crap about sex. Every woman knows the difference between sex and love, regardless of what they may say. Think about it—

“Cleo?” God, his voice. Deep, coaxing. Dangerous to my…everything.

I compose myself and straighten. “I’m ready. Where are we going?”

Sharp gray eyes probe me for several heartbeats before he holds out his free hand. “Harlem. Dinner at my club. What happens afterwards is up to you.”

Statements that give the impression that I’m in charge of my own destiny and not fully under his control. I dig deep to find the fury that should accompany that lie. The effort it takes distresses me. Enough to keep me silent most of the way to Harlem.

Playhouse X is a jazz club featuring live bands. Revamped from an old warehouse, it’s refitted with eye-catching tiered seats, clever lighting, and excellent acoustics, evidenced by the stunning strains of a sax solo that greets us.

We’re escorted to our private booth to the left of the stage and we order drinks and food. Axel pulls me close the moment we’re alone. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he rasps in my ear after dropping soft kisses along my jawline.

“Not that I recall.”

A tense smile registers against my ear shell for an instant. “Probably because I’ve been trying to work out the logistics of how I’m going to get underneath this dress. I much prefer the black floaty one. And the blue one with the slit up the side. And the shorts-and-top combo—”

“The romper suit?”

“The romper suit. That’s my favorite so far. Now this one…”

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