Page 44 of Dance with the Devil
“He never fucked with me again.”
Well, he tried—and got close a few times. Didn’t stop him from verbally abusing me, but she doesn’t need to know that.
“Good for you.” Her smile is soft, and I want to touch her. Press my lips against hers. Run my hands down her arms. Grab the flesh at her hips.
“The snake represents conquering my fears. From that point forward, I realized I was in control. Not the snake, or the tall mountain, or the enclosed space. Just me.”
“I should try it. I hate spiders. If there’s a spider in my house, I will leave and sleep at Ari’s house.”
My lips tug into a smile again when I imagine it. “You’re lucky to have her.”
Francesca rolls her eyes. “I know. But she can be a pain in my ass.”
“How so?” I ask.
Her cheeks turn pink, and I realize she must’ve mentioned something about me to her friend.
Have you been talking about me behind my back, baby girl?
“Oh, it’s nothing.” She looks over at the clock on the wall. “What time is our reservation?”
“We’re not going anymore,” I tell her simply. “Change of plans.”
“Did it get canceled?” she asks.
I let my eyes wander over her body as I take a step closer. “No. I just changed my mind about sharing you.”
Devil’s Bargain
Frankie
I just changedmy mind about sharing you.
His words roll through me but I’m too shocked to react. He steps away and walks to the door, and my heart is racing inside my chest as I follow him to the elevator. Did he mean what I think he meant? Or am I overthinking?
Just relax and be the easygoing Frankie everyone knows and loves.
We exit the hotel and fortunately, despite the tension, we’re able to strike up an easy conversation about school. He went to UCSF for undergrad, then got both of his graduate degrees at UCSB—which is why he now lives there. He grew up in Marin County but doesn’t have any family left. Both of his parents are dead—including his horrible stepfather. His mom lived with him until a few years ago, which does not help me find him any less attractive seeing him as a doting son. I tell him about growing up in San Diego, how I got a scholarship to San Diego State University, and how I met Jake in high school.
By the time we get to the cable car line, my feet are aching and I hate myself for wearing heels again. Standing in line for ten minutes doesn’t help, either—by the time a car comes downthe track and people disembark, I’m almost screaming to sit down.
“Guess you’re going to need that piggyback ride, after all,” Dr. Kincaid murmurs, practically growling it into my ear.
“I’ll be fine. I just needed to sit.”
He shakes his head, but we’re quiet for the rest of the ride up the hill and then back down toward North Beach. His hand is gripping the edge of the seat, and the other hand keeps brushing my bare thigh. He’s not doing it on purpose, but I can feel the heat radiating from him nonetheless. We get off at a stop at the intersection of Mason and Union, and we walk a block to a small Italian place namedSotto Marewith tons of people spilling out of the front door. It’s slightly off the main road, and everyone in front of us is speaking Italian, which is a good sign. Dr. Kincaid’s hand never leaves my back.
It’s nice being taken care of.
I almost laugh at that last thought.Daddy issues, much?
He waves at the chefs and we’re guided to a free table in the back. It smells like garlic and marinara sauce, and my mouth waters as I get a glimpse of what they’re cooking.
The conversation continues to flow easily. It’s strange—I was so worried about this week being awkward, but when we’re out, Dr. Kincaid and I have no problem communicating. Talking to him is easy now that he knows my deepest, darkest secret. And of course, now that I know more about him, and it feels like we have a sort of camaraderie between us that wasn’t there before this trip.
Before he fucked my brains out, at least.
He orders us some bread for the table and the cioppino, which comes in a large, ceramic bowl.
