Page 109 of Ruin Me Gently

Per l’amor di Dio.

I leaned back against a bookshelf, arms crossed, watching as she made her way to the customer waiting at the register.

“Oh my God, it’s you.” A sharp, breathless whisper came from next to me.

I glanced down.

Molly.

She was standing barely a foot away, copper hair twisted into two braids, eyes wide and shining as she took me in, her expression bouncing between shock and glee.

“You’re so much taller this close up,” she blurted, blinking up at me like I’d stepped out of a superhero film.

I didn’t say a word. Just lifted a finger to my lips. ‘Shhh.’

Her brows shot up, mouth snapping shut so fast her teeth clicked.

To her credit, she didn’t immediately start shouting. Didn’t call Lilith over. Didn’t grab me by the scarf and demand answers. She just stared. Then, after a beat, she shuffled closer, settling in beside me, watching Lilith work like we were two conspirators hiding out in a trench.

Lilith’s fingers drummed absently against the counter as she talked and smiled, the same soft, absentminded rhythm she did whenever she was thinking. Her hair caught under the low light of the shop, waves gleaming like spilled ink over her shoulders.

I wasn’t the only one watching. The customer was watching too.

Older, maybe mid-fifties, with a stained collar and sweat beading on his neck. His gaze on her chest lingered a little too long, body leaning in just a little too much. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to be intentional.

She laughed at something he said, but her body stiffened slightly, that tiny shift of weight backward. A hesitation.

My fingers flexed against my sleeves as I exhaled sharply through my nose.

“What’s the special occasion?” Molly whispered from next to me.

I didn’t answer.

“Is this your way of proposing? Sweeping her off her feet?”

Nothing.

“Oh, let me guess—you’re here to carry on lurking menacingly like a discount Batman?”

My hand moved and clamped right over her mouth.

She made a quiet muffled noise of outrage and twisted sharply, trying to wriggle free, but I could barely register it.

His hand.

On her wrist.

Her smile stayed in place, but her fingers stopped drumming. Her body went completely still.

My muscles locked up.

This guy wasn’t saying anything inappropriate from what I could hear, but I knew that posture, that angle, that touch masked as politeness.

Something coiled around my ribs, my instincts screaming at me to do something. To step in. To yank his disgusting little hand off her right away.

Molly peeled my hand off her face and held it away like I was diseased. “Down, boy,” she whispered. “Let her handle it.”

Nope. I definitely wasn’t going to let her handle it.

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