The barista hands me my tea and smoked salmon bagel.
I murmur a quick, “thanks,” then glance around the busy coffee shop in search of a free table.
Nothing.
My heart sinks.
I’d hoped to spend my lunch break here, reading in peace, instead of locking myself away in my office like I usually do. Ever since my stalker made me feel wanted,seen, something’s shifted. I feel bolder. I want to be out in the world again. To stop existing as a shadow of myself—like I’ve been since Gianna broke me.
Then my eyes catch on a flash of pale silver.
Eli.
He’s watching me.
Seated near the back, he tilts his head, subtle, and motions me over with two fingers.
I don’t even think. My feet move before my brain catches up, and suddenly I’m standing beside his table.
He’s in a fitted black t-shirt and ripped jeans, the kind that hug his thighs in all the right ways. He usually wears a jacket during our sessions, but not today. Today, I can see his tattoos in full.
Dark gothic skulls. A raven. Some sort of geometric pattern. Roses with thorns and blood. Chains breaking. Most of them are monochrome, with very little colour.
His silver eyes are locked on me, and the heat of his gaze sends a jolt straight up my spine.
Get a grip, Emily.
“Want to join me?” he asks, smirking. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, the kind that makes me wonder what else he’s capable of. He points his head towards the seat opposite him.
“I… I don’t think that would be very professional of me,” I manage, my breath catching in my chest.
He lifts a shoulder. “Looked like you were hoping to sit. And there aren’t any tables left.”
He’s right.
It wouldn’t bethatbad.
We don’t even have to talk. I could read my book. Pretend he’s not sitting there being ridiculously attractive anddefinitely not my stalker.
Right?
“Okay,” I whisper, slipping into the seat. “Thank you.”
He smiles, slow and lethal. My stomach flips.
He’s so damn beautiful.
Too bad he’s a got pathological obsessive tendancies.
Though… if I’m being honest, that doesn’t seem to bother me nearly as much as it should.
I nibble on my bagel, suddenly self-conscious eating in front of him.
Eli doesn’t say a word—just reaches into his bag, pulls out a book, and starts reading. I’m about to do the same when I catch the title on his cover. I choke.
Literally.
A coughing fit overtakes me, and my eyes start to water.