Page 189 of Hate to Love You
And now, as I sit here, inches away from her, staring her down and considering her request to stay here in my penthouse with me for the night, I don’t know what to think. I feel as if I am trying to reconcile two very different perspectives.
Of course I want her to stay.
I’ve lusted after Abigail for years. She’s the only woman I’ve slept with more than once, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I know that if I thought there was any real possibility she’d say “yes,” I’d have asked her to marry me already to soothe my aching heart.
But my heart isn’t the only part of me screaming for acknowledgement. My brain is throwing quite a tantrum too, saying that Abby is far too clever, far too deliberate, and far too risky for me to even consider “wife-ing” up anytime soon.
Cal’s observational research and analysis reports are the most reliable information I have. And so as much as I hate to admit it, I have to accept that there’s at least the possibility that she’s the invisible killer that’s been stalking us in the shadows for the last few weeks.
And if she did have something to do with Igor’s death…
I shudder, reflecting both on Abby’s provocative exchange with my sister at the gala tonight, as well as my intimate knowledge of Polina’s insatiable desire for revenge.
She wants the person responsible, so that she can torture them. And in any other circumstances, I’d be happy to comply with her request.
But if it’s Abby…
I breathe in deeply, taking another drink.
No. I can’t think about that.
“Are you okay?”
Abby’s soft voice pulls me from the haunting visceral mental images flashing behind my eyes. Gently she reaches forward and places her hand on my knee.
I snort.
She’s the one who shot and killed someone tonight, saving my ass, and here she is, asking if I’m okay.
My little fox is definitely a mysterious puzzle I haven’t quite figured out. Like a mirage in the desert, luring desperate men farther into its deadly clutches, Abigail Wayne could very well be tempting me into the quicksand of my own ruin.
And perhaps the real problem is…I’d let her.
Without another word, I stand and turn toward her, offering her my hand.
“Of course, you’re welcome here.” I whisper as I pull her up and into my arms. “But if you choose to stay the night with me there’s only one place you’ll be sleeping.”
“Which is?”
“With me.”
Abby blushes, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“There is one slight problem,” she says, wincing playfully.
“Which is?”
“I need someone to stop by my place, and feed Lily.”
“Who’s Lily?” I ask, raising my brow. “Do you have a kid I don’t know about?”
“No,” she says flatly. “Lily is my cat.”
I pause a moment, before pulling out my phone and dialing a number.
“Yes, Boss?” Trevor says sleepily. “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to go feed a cat.”