Masquerade (Swept Away #2.5)(19)

Find out how it all began for Bianca and Jakob in the first book in the series!

illusion

On sale now!





prologue


“Bianca, where are you?” His voice sounded angry, and I shivered as I opened my eyes.

I stared at the large expanse of dark midnight blue sky through the tree branches and prayed that he wouldn’t find me. I could see the white-sand beaches from my vantage point. The whole island looked so much smaller from up here. My limbs felt numb, but I was too scared to even move an inch. If he heard the rustling of leaves, he’d know where I was. I closed my eyes again and tried not to think about falling.

“Bianca, this isn’t funny.” His voice was hoarse, and I heard his footsteps moving closer to me. “Bianca, if you can hear me . . .” He paused? and his voice changed. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I heard a branch snap below me, and I knew he was close. All he had to do was look up. If he looked up, he’d be able to find me. This man who’d become my most intimate confidant was now my predator, and I was his prey. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath before looking down. An involuntary gasp escaped my mouth as I realized how high up I was. That was my first mistake.

“I’ve found you,” he said, his voice cracking as he looked up at me with dark eyes. “When will you learn? You can’t escape me.”

“Did you hurt him?” My fingers started trembling as I looked back down at him. “Tell me. Did you hurt him?”

“It depends on what you mean by hurt.” He lifted his hands up, and I saw that his fingers were drenched in blood.

I closed my eyes; I had my answer.

“I did it for us,” he said simply, and I felt my heart drop into my stomach. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked me softly as he started to climb the tree. I saw the shiny glitter of the silver knife in his left hand before he placed it into his pocket, and my heart stopped beating for a second.

“I trust you.” I nodded and waited for him to reach me.

That was my second mistake.





one

One Week Earlier

“Can I have this seat?” A deep voice interrupted my typing, and I stifled a sigh.

“Uh, sure,” I replied, without looking up. I had to finish my latest movie review in the next ten minutes and e-mail it to my editor if I wanted to get paid for the article.

“Can I have some space on the table?” His voice was dry as he spoke again, and I pulled my laptop toward me quickly, my eyes never leaving my screen. “I don’t mean to disturb you,” he continued, and this time I ignored him completely. I didn’t have time for chitchat. Not when I had to finish an article on Adam Sandler’s latest movie and persuade viewers to go and watch it without completely lying about my feelings toward the acting and the poor jokes.

I typed away as quickly as I could, but I could feel that the man was staring at me. I bit down on my lower lip to stop myself from looking up at him and asking what his problem was. It wasn’t his fault that I was on high alert and anxious. I knew that I couldn’t have an expectation of privacy if I was working at a coffee shop, but I didn’t normally have to worry about a stranger talking to me. People in New York never talk to strangers, not unless they are tourists.

I sighed and looked up. “Did you need help with something?” My breath caught as I stared at the man’s face. He was handsome, or appeared to be under the Yankees cap that covered half of his forehead. His blue eyes looked into mine with a bright light, and I could see a hint of a smile on his full pink lips. I licked my lips unconsciously as I stared at the man across from me and attempted to brush my messy hair back. “I can move onto my back if you want. I mean, move back,” I stuttered as he stared at me with his lips twitching slightly. “I don’t mean I’ll go on my back or anything, I mean I can move farther back, if you need more space.” My face burned red as I tried to explain myself.

“No, you’ve done enough. Thank you.” He nodded and looked down at his book in a dismissive fashion. Served me right, I suppose. I hadn’t really given him the time of day, and it would be way too obvious if I tried to start up a conversation now. I looked at my watch and then back at my article; I had five minutes to sum up a lackluster review of a movie I’d thought was inane. If I didn’t send it over, I wouldn’t get paid. And now that this was my only form of income, I needed to get paid. I went back to typing, though my mind was partially on the man I was sharing the table with. His knee was rubbing against mine, and I couldn’t help but laugh at myself for the slight thrill his touch was giving me.

“Loser,” I whispered to myself under my breath as I wrapped up the article and attached it in an e-mail. I knew that I was sending the e-mail without rereading the article one more time so that I could try to chat with the man. Though I really had no business trying to flirt with a strange man in a coffee shop. I was about to ask him what he was reading when I got the strangest sensation that someone was watching me again. And this time I knew it wasn’t the man sharing the table with me. I looked around the coffee shop and saw an older-looking man sipping his coffee and staring at me over a newspaper. As soon as our eyes made contact, he looked away and back down at his paper. I felt my heart racing as I stared at his coffee cup on the table. It wasn’t from this coffee shop. I pressed Send on my e-mail and grabbed my bag up from the floor in a panic, spilling half of its contents on the ground.