Page 113 of Ash and Poison

“Maybe she’s special, she’s the trophy, or maybe because she was never a threat? Or he messed up because it was his first time? I don’t know. She escaped.”

“Did you create a profile for him?” she asked, and I nodded.

“High functioning psychopath with narcissistic disorder. He’s intelligent. He must have learned to mimic emotions well. That’s how he stayed invisible. He loves control. If we shake things up, he might slip and show his cards unintentionally.”

We sat there for a while in silence, her head on my shoulder, her fingers playing with my hair.

“So…” she whispered, her voice shifting from seriousness to mocking curiosity. “The sexy madman, Dee, he likes you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He knows it’s a business transaction.”

“It’s not a business transaction. He likes you and you like him.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. If you don’t like him, you wouldn’t have trusted him with your secrets or ours. I know you, Dee.”

Liking him was even more brainless than getting caught. I wasn’t a fool to…

Oh, Fuck.

“How’s Trina?” I asked, not so-subtly changing the subject. She let me.

“Angry.”

“What happened?”

“The owner hired a new sous-chef.”

“Ah, I heard about him,” I said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and Trina wants to make seared Foie Gras with brioche and fig compote with his liver.” Layne shuddered, eyes wide as if she wouldn’t willingly join in on that. “She told me step by fucking step, too. It was too graphic even for me.”

“What did he do?”

“Ah, he just exists, and she gets mad. I think she’s horny for him,” Layne said with a dismissive wave, and everything was as it was supposed to be.

I laughed until I was crying, until my heart broke and healed again. Layne pressed a kiss against my hair.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you more.”

“Where’s your sister?” Asher asked, meeting me in the hall when I came back after walking Layne to my cottage.

“She left.”

“Will she be staying in the cottage?” he asked, and I nodded. “And she said you used to think of him when you…” Asher trailed off, his eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

“You look pretty when you get jealous, but it’s all in the past. I only think of you now, Pussycat,” I said, walking toward the hall where group therapy was held. He walked with me.

“You better,” he whispered. “Can I come tonight? I want to make you forget every other man. I want to make sure you know who you belong to.”

“I already don’t remember anyone else, Ash.”

“Good.”

I ran a finger up his thigh. “Come. We can be discreet. Layne’s a heavy sleeper, but…” I leaned closer to him, my fingers squeezing his ass. His eyes widened as he jumped back. “You must be very, very quiet.”