Page 35 of Dance with the Devil
Or… he knows I was awake, too.
The elevator doors slide open, and we both walk to the door of the suite. After opening it, he lets me through and grabs his laptop bag.
“I have some work to do. I’ve rented out the conference room downstairs until midnight, so I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay. Thank you for dinner and ice cream. I had a nice time.”
His eyes slowly drag down my body, and I physically shiver. Looking back up at me, his jaw tics several times before he speaks.
“Don’t forget to lock your door.”
I lift my chin and nod once. “Okay. Good night, Dr. Kincaid.”
“Call me Dante.”
“Only if you call me Frankie,” I reply, smirking.
Then I walk to the bedroom door and close it, making sure he can hear the heavy lock sliding into place.
Once I hear him leave, I unlock it.
And now we wait.
March 7th
I can’t get the thought out of my head—Francesca carrying my child. It started as a fleeting fantasy, something I could brush off, but now it’s all I can think about. The idea of her body changing, growing round with my child... it feels like an obsession I can’t shake. The thought consumes me, day and night, filling every corner of my mind with an intensity I can barely contain.
I imagine it. Her hand resting on her swollen belly, the faint smile she’d give as she feels our baby move… my baby. It would be a part of me growing inside her, something no one else could ever give her. A bond that no one could break. She’d be mine, truly mine, in every way. Not just in my mind, but in reality, forever.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she belongs to me. No one else can have her. I’ve made sure of that. I’ve watched her, studied her, planned every detail. The men who look at her, the ones who think they have a chance—they’re fools. Grant was the biggest fool of them all, and I’m glad to be rid of him. They don’t know that she’s already spoken for, that she’s already mine in ways they could never understand. I’d never let anyone else touch her. I’d destroy them first.
I’ve kept my distance, played the role of the professional, of her boss. But it’s getting harder. The more I think about her, the more I want to close the distance, to claim what’s mine.
It’s strange, this possessiveness. I’ve never felt this way before. The need to keep her close, to protect her, to keep her all to myself—it’s overwhelming. I know it’s not normal, but normal doesn’t matter anymore.
I’ll make it happen. I’ll make her mine, completely and utterly. And nothing, no one, will ever take her away from me.
Not now, not ever.
Honey-tongued Devil
Frankie
I startleawake and look around the room, panicking briefly when I see a man looming near the door.
Not any man.
Dr. Kincaid.
No shirt, just those same sweatpants.
And that same vacant look as last time.
I inhale a shaky breath. “Dr. Kincaid?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he cracks his neck and curls his fists before slowly walking over to me. It’s eerie because he’s not looking at me—he’s completely unseeing, and yet he moves as though hecansee. From what I know of sleepwalking, it’s easy to appear awake sometimes if the person is familiar with the layout of the room. His eyes are open—but there’s nothing behind them.
My heart is pounding against my ribs as he stalks closer. I’d worn the same thing to bed as last night—a cami and a pair of underwear. My nipples harden as I take in his tented sweatpants, as I remember how it felt to lie underneath him and be pressed down into the mattress with his hand around my neck.
