Page 35 of Captive Audience
“I liked you better when I didn’t know you were a sociopath.” I snatched my dress from the floor, one hand on the waistband of the sweats. “Where are my panties?”
A wicked grin formed on his lips as he tapped his breast pocket. “Sorry, pet. You’re never getting them back.”
Heat crawled up my neck. I clenched my dress in a death grip and growled. “Fine. Keep them as your sick little souvenir, because that’s all you’ll get from me.”
That was it. I was done and ready to be out of here ASAP.
“Turn around,” I snapped.
“Why?”
I glared at Rook. “So I can get changed.”
“Asha,” he drawled. “I’ve had you naked and moaning my name while I was buried inside you. Modesty’s a bit late, don’t you think?”
My molars ground together. A traitorous pulse sparked low in my belly.
The reminder that this man was more familiar with my vagina than my gynecologist wasn’t helping.
“Shut. Up.”
But he was right. There wasn’t any part of me that Rook hadn’t seen. Or run his lips over. Don’t even get me started on the mind-blowing things he’d done with his tongue.
Shame he was a murderous nutjob.
I dropped the sweats, pulled the dress over my head, and ignored the way his gaze lingered on all the places it shouldn’t.
“Adios, douchebag.” I collected my heels and made for the hallway at a fast clip. “I knew you were too good to be true. Why are there no normal men in this fucking city?”
“Not so fast.” Rook caught me by the arm and spun me to face him. I swung a heel at his head, but he caught it and tossed it aside. Then he hauled me against his chest, holding me pinned. “You’re going to listen to what I have to say, then you’re going to do exactly as you’re told.”
I shoved at him, breath fast and sharp. “Clearly, you don’t know me.”
“But I do, Asha. I know every little detail about you.”
I stared him down, lungs heaving. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” His smile was slow and lethal. “I know about your podcast.” He leaned in until his face was an inch from mine. “Who’s the one with thecaptive audiencenow?”
18
ASHA
“You should be proud. It’s a great podcast, Asha. Or should I call youInferno? Would you prefer that?”
Blood drained from my face, leaving me dizzy. If Rook didn’t have me held up against him, I might drop to my knees.
How? How did he know about my podcast?
I did everything I could to protect my identity. Voice disguised. VPN. I used burner accounts for email and stripped metadata from files.
Maybe Rook hadn’t found me through the podcast. Maybe he’d found me—Asha Sparks, notInferno—and somehow discovered I was the presenter ofCaptive Audience.
“Who are you?” I asked, my voice shallow.
“My name is Ryan O’Connell. But I wasn’t lying last night. Most people call me Rook.”
“Fine. Thenwhatare you? Because you sure as hell aren’t an exterminator.”
