Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
My eyes stay fixed on the screen as her phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Francesca goes completely still, pausing briefly before she blindly reaches behind her for the phone. She takes a deep breath and swipes across the screen, bringing it to life. Her eyes scan the message, and her smile grows.
She immediately texts back. I’ll be ready.
Good. I have a few hours to take care of business, and then Francesca will be mine.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Frankie
I look around The Edwardian, an upscale restaurant where the waitstaff, including the women, dress in black or white tuxedos. They all look like they belong on the runway—not one fucking hair is out of place. I get a sea of perfect smiles aimed my way, and suddenly, I’m uncomfortable.
In my work capacity, I could stroll in here and command everyone to shut the hell up and do as I say, but as a guest, I feel way out of my league.
Luckily, Damien doesn’t feel the same. He’s standing tall, comfortable with his place in the world, and the staff treat him as if he’s royalty.
“Relax,” he whispers in my ear. His warm breath sends a tantalizing shiver racing across my skin. The way his lips brush my ear is almost too much.
I straighten, trying to mask the electric jolt caused by his touch. Turning to him, I grin. “Who says I’m not relaxed?”
“I do,” he whispers back, a teasing lilt in his voice. “You’re tense as hell, and I’m trying to figure out why.”
“This,” I reply but stop short as we reach our table. The view is spectacular. I can see the whole damn city below on one side and the sparkling water of the ocean on the other. In all its glitz, glamour, and grime, this is my city. My home. And tonight, it’s beautiful.
“This?” His smile is teasing, but there’s pure curiosity in his eyes.
“It’s just a little intimidating at first,” I admit with a shrug. “But these are just people with more money than most of us. Not special. Not better, just different.”
“I like the way you look at things. It’s wise and refreshing.”
Our gazes lock together in an intense stare-down that lasts until the waiter returns to take our drink orders. “That’s me, wise and refreshing,” I say, a playful challenge in my tone.
The waiter arrives, clearing his throat to get our attention. We give him our food and drink orders all at once, both of us seemingly eager to get on with the getting-to-know-you portion of the date.
“So, Francesca, tell me about your job. How did you become a police officer?”
“Damien, please. Call me Frankie.”
He cracks a grin. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve told me before. I’ll do my best. Please continue, Frankie.”
I smile, feeling a flutter of excitement. “Thank you. Francesca sounds so harsh.” I take a sip of water from the crystal glass. “So, my dad, Franklin DeMarco, was also a cop, well, a detective. I wanted to be just like him for as long as I can remember.” It’s mostly the truth, but the entire truth isn’t exactly first-date material. Or second date.
Or third.
He leans forward, and a slow smile lights up his eyes. “Have you ever caught a serial killer before?”
I stare back for a moment, weighing how I want to answer the question. I lean in and Damien does the same, unconsciously mimicking my body language. “You shouldn’t believe everything you see or read on the internet.”
His smile grows. “What shouldn’t I believe?”
I sit back when our waiter places my cocktail in front of me. “As a general rule, you shouldn’t believe anything, but that’s just my opinion.”
His brows arch up in amused curiosity. “Not a fan of the press?”
I shake my head slightly. “Can’t say I am. But I do respect the journalists who report the facts without resorting to hype and clickbait. The media companies are businesses, after all, so they need to captivate their audience with every new twist and turn. Higher ratings equal higher profits.”
“But isn’t that how you receive tips that help in cracking the case? News media and the internet as you say?”
“Hardly,” I snort dismissively. “But when people are scared, they do really stupid things that complicate my work. And it puts them at greater risk.” I give my head a shake and tell him an old police story about foolish leads, running in circles, and an additional casualty. “It’s a catch-22 situation. I want the public to be vigilant, but I also want them safe.”
He nods slowly, his gaze never leaving my face. “You’re not just tough, Frankie. You’ve got a hard shell with a marshmallow interior.”
I jab a finger in his direction. “Zip it, wise guy, or I’ll spread the word that you’re not actually the brilliant mastermind you claim to be.”
His eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t.”
“I might. Don’t test me.” I take a sip of my cocktail, laughing when he holds up his hands in a defensive gesture. “How about you, genius? How does one get into the tech genius field?”