Page 9 of The Hitch
I grab my bag from the passenger seat and walk with purpose into the building, up to the second floor, and pull out the key copy I had Roman procure for me. It slides into the lock effortlessly. The man is a professional and rarely asks prying questions, which I appreciate.
Her apartment is just as I left it, mostly. The rose is in the trash, of course, but it's still messy and filled with the scent ofher. I inhale deeply and grin at my own hidden camera. It's a tiny little thing and fits into the grooves of the drop ceiling like it was built there.
I pull up the camera feed app on my phone and wave at myself. There's a split-second delay. I'll need to work on that, but for now, it'll do. I don't plan on Melody living here for much longer, anyway. Soon she'll be in my house, with me, where she belongs.She'll bemine. And I'll have all the power in the world to keep it that way.
Smiling to myself, I peruse the rest of her belongings. She doesn't have much food in her tiny kitchen, nor any real furniture to speak of. The combined kitchen and living room can't be any bigger than ten feet across and ten feet wide. Her bedroom isn't any better. And the bathroom… well, I can tell shetriesto keep it clean, but the absentee landlords haven't taken care of this building.
All of that can be fixed, of course, but she won't be around long enough to benefit. With a few calculations in my mind, I text Roman and Valencia to get contractors ready for bidding.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I make my way down to her bedroom and begin to snoop. Her bedding is rumpled and shoved down to the floor, exposing a ratty mattress. I trail my hand down the fitted sheet and breathe in her scent. Vanilla and cherry, just like the body wash resting in her shower. I make a mental note to procure an upscale version with the same fragrance for my—soon to beour—home.
Next to her bed, she's got a small nightstand.I pull open the drawer with a creak and find a coiled phone charger, an extra, perhaps? And, shoved way into the back, like she's ashamed of herself, a small vibrator. I grin and pull out the toy. A pink bullet. Clicking the button on one end, it buzzes against my hand. The image of Melody, writhing in ecstasy, sends a zap down my spine and directly into my cock.
I've barely seen a flash of her nudity, but I've screenshotted every frame. And the thought of lying where she lies, coming where she comes… it's too much to resist. My pants can't hold me back any longer, and I sprawl out on her cheap bedding, inhaling the smell ofher. As I unzip my pants, my cock springs out and I take it in my fist. Pumping slowly, images of Melody swim through my mind's eye. Her honey-brown eyes. Herpinched expression when she's confused. I imagine her flushed red skin when I finally take her.
She's mine. She's mine. She's fuckingmine.
"Fuck!" I grit out. My cum spills down the back of my hand. My orgasm hit me fast and hard, unexpectedly quick. I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to regulate my racing heart.
Panting, I whip my phone back out and take a picture of myself reclining in her bed, flushed from my orgasm, and grinning like a weasel. I'll send that to her later, after she willingly gives me her number. I have it already, of course, but that's no fun.
Buzz buzz.Oh, my. It's time for me to make my escape before she gets home. I hop off her bed and adjust my pants, slicking my hair back to its perfectly polished usual manner. I need to leave, and I need to leavenow.
Her laundry pile taunts me. There's a clean pair of her underwear just sitting out in the open. As if shewantsme to take them. Black cotton with lace around the hems, little cheeky things. Ishouldtake them. She shouldn't leave them in such a tempting way. It serves her right, honestly.
I pocket the panties and head toward the front door. Her nearly overflowing trash can, where my rose sits discarded, catches my eye. With a chuckle, I remove the bag and replace it with a new liner from the box under her sink. A gift. I can be domestic, if she wants me to be.
Roman sits in his designated wingback chair, staring at the empty fireplace of my living room. He seems lost in thought, his hands steepled under his chin, brow furrowed in concentration.
"You seem pensive, Ro." I swirl my whiskey in the crystal glass.
"Seraph's people have been quiet for a while," he mumbles, still staring at the blackened iron bars. I hum in agreement and throw back my drink.
He's right, of course. I'm not naïve enough to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I'm also not dumb enough to think they've crawled back to whatever hole they came from. And their people areeverywhere. Always prying, always sticking their fingers where they don't belong. Roman has a knack for rooting them out, though, and I trust his word. I've fired more double agents than I can count on both hands because of his intel.
I grimace and set my empty glass on the stone coffee table. "Anything in the underground I should know about?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing of note. One of the street gangs tagged up Market Street with a bastardized version of the angel wings, but that's all."
"Hmm." If Seraph is recruiting street gangs, he must be getting bored. Or sloppy. Or both. "Once I've got my claim to power sorted, we'll be able to take care of it."
"You really think so?" He snaps his vision to me, looking away from the fireplace for the first time since I arrived. "We've tried in the past, but we've always come out with our tails between our legs. We havesomeof the government, but they have more."
"I know that, Ro. We all know that." I smirk. "But they don't have my… less than scrupulous connections."
"That you know of," he grumbles and turns his gaze away from me. "Enough of that. What's the deal with this woman, huh? She tries to kill you, and you're what, stalking her?"
"Don't you see, Ro? She's perfect. Not one of those clout whores that GoCon keeps on retainer. She's gotfire."
"She's got issues, is what she's got." Roman smiles into his crystal glass, and I can't help but chuckle.
"That she does. Not to worry, though. I've got aplan." I waggle my eyebrows at him. "I'll get what I need from her, and then we can dispose of her. Simple. Easy. Done and done."
"Do you really think you're capable of that, sir?" Roman squints in my direction, and I feel myself prickle. Capable of that? Is he joking? I buried a man justyesterday.
"I sincerely hope that was in jest, Roman. You of all people should know that I am not to be crossed underanycircumstances."
"Understood, sir. My apologies. Is there anything else for today? I think I might take my leave." His tone is calm, almost flat, as he keeps firm eye contact with me. I stare him down, silently, unbroken. Waiting for him to break first. He may be my right-hand man, but hewilltreat me with respect.
