“Just had a few rough nights. No biggie.”

Theodore brings his hand to my face and runs the pad of his thumbs under each eye. “You need a few days off. No work, and please try to get some sleep.”

“Believe it or not, this is relaxing for me.”

“So is lounging on your couch while munching on chocolates and binge-watching Netflix documentaries.”

I take a step back and mock glare, crossing my arms over my chest while meeting his hard stare. “Someone’s been snitching, or have you been asking?”

“I will neither confirm nor deny this, but I will counter the question with one of my own.”

“That’s not how any of this works.”

“Yet it will happen nonetheless.” He takes my silence as a win and tilts his head toward the end of the aisle where the center of the store is located en route to the registers. We make it to the line to pay when he looks over again, chuckling at my annoyance for being left in wait. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“No, but here’s one of my own...”

“Go on.”

“Are you going to buy what you came for?”

“I’ll order it online.” Then, his amber eyes scrutinize me. “Have you eaten at all?”

“Again, no.”

“What are you in the mood for? I’ll—”

“I’ve already placed an order for pickup at seven and I’ll swing by the place after I pay for this.”

“Where?”

“Why?” I ask, studying his profile and memorizing each detail. The more I’m around him, the bigger the compulsion to draw him becomes. To recreate each line—his angular jaw and pouty lips—and add him to my line for the Astor Gallery. Would he get mad? “What’s it to you?”

He snorts, and the sound seems so out of character. Makes him cute to me. “You’re not paying for anything on your birthday.”

“Buddy, that day came and went like a hurricane. It’s been a little over a week now.”

“Well, I’m making up for it.” The girl at the register smiles at him, never once saying anything in greeting or asking the customary did you find everything okay because she’s too busy doing what I am. Listening. Watching. Having an inner swoon moment that while making me want to glare at her, I understand. “Now, tell me where, and I’ll have Tero pick it up.”

“That’s abuse of power. Shouldn’t he be off by now?”

“He isn’t.”

“But—”

“Tell me, Gabriella.” A full-body shiver runs through me at the way he says my name. There’s this tinge of reverence that makes no sense to me and his eyes look at me with hunger. It’s all there for a split second, but on my next blink, it’s as if I’ve imagined it all. His handsome face is blank and his facial expression expectant. “What did you order, and from where?”

My tongue seems tied for some reason, but I do hand over my phone before he asks again, leaving open my Uber Eats pick-up screen with my pending order. “This Indian place isn’t far at all. It’ll be at your door before you reach it.”

“Why?”

Theodore hands over his card blindly to the cashier while I wait. He grabs my bags and then has me lead the way to my car without answering my question. It isn’t until everything’s inside the trunk of my car and I’m behind the wheel that I’m graced with another charming smile.

It’s alarming how easily that action disarms me.

“Everything I do, Miss Moore, is because I want to. Simple as that.” He raps the top of my car twice and pulls back. “Drive safely, and I’d like to see you at the gallery tomorrow around ten.”

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Will I like this surprise? That’s the important question here.”

He shakes his head, a smirk curling at his lips. “You’ll have to show up and see.”

“That’s no fun.”

“It is for me, sweet Gabriella.” And then he walks away without letting me respond. Not that I could, because once again I’m left watching him. Too occupied with his muscled back just like the rest of him, the cords of muscles beneath the thin grey shirt are a distraction I can’t escape from.

This also leaves me with two very important observations...

How easily distracted I am in his presence.

How easily I forget all my problems the moment he’s near.

13

King

I

’ve been watching my pretty girl from the shadows for a little over a week. I’ve been listening to the world around us appreciate and take note—discover what I’ve known all along—that Gabriella Moore is a gem walking amongst filth.

The Astor Galleries know this.

Her best friend has always been jealous of it.

Men around her covet what belongs to me, and my patience is beginning to run thin. I’ve been accepting of her teasing and allowing key players to participate. Love the thrill of being taunted by those around her to come a little closer and expose myself, even though I won’t. Not yet.

Instead, I play the game she innocently isn’t aware of participating in and anticipate her every turn.

She moves. I move.

Gabriella is unaware of the demon whose strike outweighs her gentle moral compass. A lesson she’ll learn soon enough as I’ll always devour my prey whole. No empathy. No soul.

But then again, it’s been this way since the first time our paths crossed.