Primal Pursuit

“Hi, Giovanni. Excuse me.” I skirt around him and rush in, dragging the box up to my apartment.

What the fuck was that?

Who the fuck is that priest?

He knows Davian?

And what the actual fuck was the Oscar Wilde thing? A warning? I mean, I told him I want to kill Davian, and… Oh, God. Has he told Davian? If he did, this is all over. Everything.

No.

I force myself to calm. If Davian knew, he’d kill me, plain and simple. I’d be dead already.

I suck in a breath.

It’s good. It’s all good. Davian has no idea. The priest connection is weird, but weird happens. And he’s a priest. He’s probably looking out for me being so much younger than Davian, something I tend to forget. And maybe he thinks I’m jailbait, that’ll get his buddy in trouble. After all, the package was left for me at his church. A place I’m never, ever setting foot in. Again.

I grab my phone.

I met your friend.

Be more specific.

The priest.

Ignore him. He gets bored.

Did you get the package? Wear it. All of it.

Shoes too.

Don’t be late.

I take a breath; my plans are still intact. A man like Davian thrives on our little games, but how would he know I’m that girl? And I don’t think he goes around telling priests about his crimes. Does he?

But Davian doesn’t seem worried. It’s why I mentioned the priest.

I open the box and peel the black tissue paper back, revealing a red dress. I pull it out, and I instantly love it. It’s exactly my style. It’s silky, a modern version of something yesteryear, romantic and sexy with a halter top that cuts right down low in the back and shows off the wares in the front.

The full skirt isn’t for demureness. It’s easy access.

And the shoes are…strappy. Silky red with thin, tall, stiletto heels.

Who can run in those?

My heart’s not just hammering, its going apeshit as Ifinger the sensuous material. He might be evil, and I want him gone, but he’s got taste.

A small piece of paper is nestled at the bottom of the box.

73267 627535 752

Ten minus five-0

What the fuck?

My mind whirls, trying to unravel it, but nothing is slotting into place. The longer I try to figure it out, the more confused I become, so I decide to jump in the shower, freshen up, and have another stab at it. After I’m out, dry, and dressed, I add my lipstick and some mascara, and decide to leave my hair down.

There’s another text from him.