The Danger You Know Page 8

  I can’t look away, though. Not that I’m trying. He is too damn beautiful for words.

  Hell, my thoughts must be written all over my face. The corner of his lips stretch with masculine arrogance I’m sure he earned through years of making women lose their minds to him.

  “It’s nice to meet you. Given the less than desirable circumstances.”

  Nodding, I struggle to find my voice. I swallow several times. Silently yelling at myself for acting like an idiot.

  “Um, yeah,” I finally manage to say, hating how scattered I sound. But that’s what this man does. Scatters you. Stretches you out until all your parts are mixed up and out of order. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

  His eyes tear away from mine, lifting higher to look out over a cemetery that stretches across verdant green lawns and is shaded by large trees, their bows hanging down as if mourning the loss of so many lives.

  A gust of wind blows past, carrying with it the scent of late blooming flowers, a touch of cold in the air that warns of winter coming in the next few months.

  Shivering against it, I hope it’s the wind that causes goose bumps to race across my skin. Somehow, I know it isn’t.

  And while Ari looks out over the distance, I take the opportunity to study him. He has a nice body, that much is obvious beneath the suit he wears. The top buttons of his black shirt are undone, the buckle of his belt glimmering beneath the sun.

  His profile draws my attention the most. He looks like a mystery wrapped in sin, a temptation that will cut if anybody dares to reach for it. His posture is strong, prideful, his focus so shrewd and intent, I wonder what he’s thinking, what he does for a living.

  Returning his gaze to me, he tilts his head.

  “The weather is nice, and I have nowhere to be. Would you like to take a walk with me? I’ve never explored the cemetery beyond this area.”

  My instant thought is to say yes. To jump to my feet and walk at his side through nature and stone, across acres of heartache that are peaceful despite the wilting flowers and trinkets placed on graves.

  This is the first time I’ve had to remember I’m married, had to pull back. My thumb rubs over the two carat diamond and white gold band on my finger, Ari’s gaze drifting down to the small movement and back up again.

  What would Grant think if he caught me with another man, even if it was innocent companionship?

  One thing about my husband I learned after we married is that he has a jealous streak. He can’t stand listening about my past. Would rather believe I’ve never known anybody else but him.

  “I probably shouldn’t.”

  His eyes trap mine. “It’s just a walk.”

  He pauses, giving me the tiniest of smiles, but the curve of his lips are more sad than anything. “It’ll be nice to talk to someone who understands what I’ve gone through.”

  Dropping a pointed look at my parents’ headstone, he hints to the shared trauma we’ve both experienced.

  How can I say no to that? It isn’t like he’s asking me out on a date. Ari is simply looking for company, someone who can empathize with him.

  The truth is, I want someone who understands as well. Grant certainly doesn’t. Both his parents are alive and well. Not that the family is very close to each other. All of them, in their own ways, are cold. If one of them dies, it will be handled like any other business transaction, their body tossed in the ground, a few expected words, and they will wipe their hands of it while dividing the assets.

  My heart sinks to think of it.

  But this man, he knows. His expression mirrors my pain.

  “You know what? I have some time, too. And I happen to know this cemetery like the back of my hand. I’ve explored it from corner to corner.”

  His brows shoot up, but that mouth of his, it doesn’t budge.

  I wonder what someone like him would look like happy. Wonder how breathtaking he would be rumpled and free of the weight on his shoulders.

  Angry at myself for daring to imagine what he would be like when stretched out over a woman in bed, I shake away the thought and push to my feet.

  “Are you offering to be my personal tour guide?” There is a teasing hint to his voice.

  I nod.

  “I know where all the secret places are. Come with me, and I’ll show them to you.”

  Ari falls into step beside me, his body close, but he is careful not to touch.

  Attempting to ignore how my heart skips a beat to have him so near, I lead him on a tour of a place we have in common.

  Ari

  I’m a damn good liar. Always have been in life, the control I keep over my face and body ironclad while both truth and lies fall easily over my tongue.

  Feeling not one drop of guilt for the method I used to convince Adeline to talk to me, I keep a slow pace at her side, my hands tucked safely away in my pockets, my expression neutral while she points out different pieces of art and large stone structures, her knowledge of the cemetery impressive.

  It isn’t surprising. She’s an artist, or at least she was before she married. But while she rattles on about a bunch of crap I don’t care about, I pay attention to the changes I can see in her.

  Even her mannerisms are different, the free spirit I’d watched for so many years gone. In its place is someone so ordinary I would never have noticed her all those years ago.

  Dressed in a pale pink (Adeline hates pink) dress that falls to her knees, the collar high so that nothing of her shoulders show, she’s lost in her explanation of different features of the cemetery, their meaning, their age.

  I barely hear a word she says, would have walked away from this conversation had it been anybody else, but it gives me the opportunity to study her up close, to seek out any flicker of the obsession I’ve had for so long.

  I should be glad she changed, should walk off and see this as a point where I can let her go, but underneath the polished, proper, exterior, I know someone else exists.

  Obviously, she won’t admit it to herself, but whatever is trapped is fighting back. She’s shedding the fake person in her sleep. Shoving away the husband I suspect is the influence forcing her inside a gilded cage.

  With every intention to find out what Grant is doing when he doesn’t return home, I stare at the ground as we walk, lifting my head every once in a while to look at whatever it is she points out.

  “And over there is the Rinehart Mausoleum. The last person was interred over a hundred years ago. An entire family. But we can go inside. It has several rooms, the walls carved with different symbols and words that represent each member of the family.”

  I know better than to walk into the mausoleum with her. The amount of restraint it takes to keep my distance is already unbearable. Reaching out to touch her would be so easy. Tossing her over my shoulder and dragging her off into the shadows so fucking tempting.

  And there she is, inviting me to be alone with her...without the first clue of who I am in her life.

  Staring at her, I ask the questions in my head that would send her running if spoken aloud.

  Do you know I killed your father?

  Do you realize I’ve been watching you for seven years?

  That I’ve seen you naked?

  That I’ve watched you fuck?

  That I almost fucked you myself on a night you don’t even remember?

  But really, none of those questions matter as much as the one that sets my teeth together and makes a muscle jump in my jaw.

  What have you fucking done to me that I can’t get you out of my head?

  How dare she drag me in only to flip the script and become this bullshit shell of herself? How fucking dare she give me a taste of what she can be and then toss it aside for mediocrity?

  I thought I’d found someone I could understand as well as I know myself. I thought, for once, there was another person in this world that is as tragic and empty as me.

  Adeline stares back, innocent, a sweet smile pulling at those blood red lips as her qu
estion hangs answered. She doesn’t have the first fucking clue that a demon watches her, that I am the reason we’re standing in this cemetery in the first place.

  “I’d love to see it.”

  Lifting a hand, I motion for her to walk. “Lead the way.”

  Her smile widens, and it’s the genuine one I know means she enjoys being near me. I’m pissed at her for that as much as everything else.

  In all the times I’ve been close, she’s never given me the fake smile.

  I need to walk away. For her good and mine, yet I find myself stepping up beside her again, my shoulders locked with tension while she rambles on about tombstone symbols and the different techniques of carving them.

  She’s oblivious.

  Just like always.

  To the danger walking next to her.

  To a presence that is darker than she could ever imagine.

  The iron gate creaks when she pushes it open, dry leaves rushing along the concrete entryway from a breeze that pushes through the branches of a large tree overshadowing the place.

  There’s only room for one person to walk through at a time, so I step back, follow behind her, my gaze dropping to run down a body I’ve wanted since the first night I saw her. My fingers curl into my palms, the urge to wrap them over those round hips almost impossible to ignore.

  It would be so easy to shove her inside and take everything I want.

  Once inside, she turns to look at me, her shoulder brushing against mine. Dappled sunlight paints her face, the blue of her eyes hypnotic, the shadow of ivy dancing over her skin.

  “Isn’t this place amazing? You could get lost in here. Never found.”

  She grins at the thought of being tucked away and secluded where nobody can find her. I almost laugh at the absurdity of it.

  This.

  This right here.

  This is why I’ve spent seven years chasing after her to make sure she doesn’t fall victim to all the stupid decisions she makes.

  Damn it, Adeline. I should spank you for driving me insane.

  “It’s definitely big.”

  Did I seriously fucking say that? It’s definitely big? What a moronic statement. But what else is there to say? We’re in a damn crypt with dead bodies tucked in the walls. This isn’t Disneyland.

  You wouldn’t know that by looking at her, though. She’s like a kid in a candy store. Her eyes round and wide. Her lips curling with forbidden mischief. She’s coming to life right in front of me. Revealing the girl I’ve followed for so long.

  It only proves I’m right. Adeline hasn’t changed since getting married. She’s drowning instead.

  She continues to lead me farther into the structure, her feet light on the ground, arms swinging, her voice melodic as she points out different carvings.

  “I’ve wanted to bring my camera in here for a long time. Take pictures of this place and process them to show what I see.”

  Finally, she gives me an opening.

  “You’re a photographer?”

  She nods, but then the smile falls, the melodic quality of her voice dying.

  “I was at one time. It’s been a while since I picked up a camera.”

  Turning, I step into her space, directing her without making it noticeable. Her back presses up against a wall, our chests so close, I can feel the heat of her body.

  Leaning in, I’m slowly losing the ability to keep my distance.

  “Why?”

  Our breath mingles, her eyes widening more as her face tips up to mine. Careful to hold her stare instead of sliding my hungry gaze down her body, I stay quiet. Wait for her to process that I’ve asked a question.

  She’s scared.

  Nervous.

  Excited.

  Not sure what to do now that she finds herself alone with a strange man in a very secluded place.

  Good. She should have thought of that before inviting me here. I can do anything I want at this moment, and there isn’t a damn thing she can do to fight me off.

  I’m not Jason Ayers or any of her other fuck boys. I don’t play games. Not the ones she’s used to, at least.

  Still, she’s excited. I somehow knew she would be. Adeline would openly deny being turned on by the possibility of what could happen in a moment like this, but her journals say different.

  Her dreams.

  She stutters over the words. “B-because I d-don’t-“

  Taking a breath deep enough for her chest to push out and brush mine, she shakes her head, gaining some control of herself.

  “Because I haven’t had a chance.”

  My stare drops to her lips. She’s chewing it again. I want to bite her for it. Punish her for the aggravating habit that is slowly driving me insane.

  “I love photography,” I admit, “Collect it. If you’re any good, it would be a shame for you to let the talent go to waste.”

  I pin her gaze with mine, lowering my voice so she has to give me her full attention to hear it.

  “You should bring your camera here. Take those pictures. Do something with them.”

  Be the fucking woman that drives me mad day after day.

  Adeline blinks, her lips parting, her shoulders moving with every quick breath. How she doesn’t remember me while we stand like this is astounding.

  We’ve been here before. In the rain. On a day I should have kissed her and claimed her as mine.

  Here we are again.

  The temptation is too fucking much.

  I step back before I slip and push this further than I intended.

  But then she surprises me...like she always does.

  The little monster.

  “Have you ever been photographed? Professionally, I mean. Not family pictures and phone stuff.”

  The question catches me off guard. Voice dipped in suspicion, I ask, “Why?”

  More mischief in a face I know can drive me to my damn knees when she gets a wild idea in her head.

  “You have the look for it. That broody, dark, ‘I’ll strangle you in your sleep’ look. I’d like to photograph you.”

  I blink. Slowly. Open my eyes again to stare at a woman who has no idea what she just said to me. Or how close to the truth she is.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  The twinkle in her gaze is disturbing. And that says a lot. I kill people for a living. Nothing disturbs me. But being on this girl’s radar drives a shiver down my spine.

  She steps closer.

  I step back.

  What the fuck is going on?

  “I’ll make you a deal. You meet me here tomorrow, and I’ll bring my camera.”

  My brow arches. “Why would I agree to that?”

  Seriousness bleeds into her voice. “Because you’re right. I do need to pick up my camera again. There’s just ... issues.”

  Her gaze darts away as if she’s hiding something. I know there’s more to what she wants to say, but Adeline swallows it down before looking at me again.

  “So, anyway, it would be helpful if you inspired me.”

  She’s nuts. I know that. So why am I standing here looking at her like she’s grown a second head? Adeline doesn’t know me from Adam. She doesn’t realize she should be running away screaming and not begging me to come back here where we can be alone again.

  But still, here she is. The woman I remember. Not the watered down version Grant is turning her into.

  This is what I want, isn’t it?

  Photographs of me are out of the question. I’ll find a way to avoid it, but I won’t be the person to jerk the ground out from under her and tell her no. Not when she’s daring to peek out from behind that fake persona.

  Lincoln is going to kick my ass for this.

  I’m going to kick my ass.

  “I’ll be here. What time?”

  Her smile lights up the interior of the mausoleum, so brilliant that I almost smile in return.

  “Noon?”

  What the fuck am I doing?

  “I’ll see you then.”
<
br />   Adeline

  Grant didn’t come home that night. We got into an argument shortly after I left the cemetery. He demanded I take the pills my neurologist prescribed me, and when I refused, he told me he had to work late and that I should plan on eating dinner alone.

  He also reminded me of a million and one chores I had to accomplish, like planning another stuffy dinner party for his Japanese investors, shop for a wedding gift for one of his associate’s daughters and remember to get my hair cut because it was getting too long for his taste.

  He means well. Grant is an efficient, type-A person. He runs several businesses on his own, manages over a thousand employees and he does so with the expectation that I will step up and help out with the social aspects of our life.

  It isn’t too much to ask, but it’s suffocating at times. Everything had been so different before we got married. So different on the honeymoon. He was relaxed. He joked. We spent hours exploring each other in bed.

  But then we came back, and he became a different person.

  For the past few months, I swore he didn’t know me for who I really am, but when looking at the entire picture, it can be said that I don’t really know him all that well either.

  How do you go three years dating a person without learning who they are? I don’t understand it. But I’m living with it now.

  Oddly, though, I slept well after talking to him. The usual anger and hurt I feel wasn’t there. My thoughts had drifted off into the hobbies I used to love.

  I’m excited for once.

  I spend the morning pulling my camera out from the closet where it has sat unused since the day I moved into the new house. Flipping open the heavy latches of the case causes my heartbeat to jump. Opening the lid makes me feel like a small child at Christmas. Pulling the camera itself from the foam padding eases the tension in my shoulders for the first time in months.

  Brushing my finger over the shutter button, I power on the camera and pull off the lens cap. Looking through the viewfinder, I grin to be reminded how much I’d once loved this.

  After snapping off a few shots of the inside of my closet, I forget about all the wife chores I have to do, my focus completely locked on finally photographing the mausoleum.