Perfect Villain (Dark Lies Duet 1)

As if on cue, I see the top of her little brown head over the fence as she turns the corner. With her head down, she walks with her purse hanging from one shoulder, a backpack dangling from the other, and her attention on her phone.

A moment later, she enters the loud coffee shop and blends in with the other customers. Instead of standing in line like everyone else, she heads straight for the pick-up desk, and I soon realize her drink is already waiting for her.

I leave my seat and stroll across the room. The floor is sticky, music plays through the overhead speakers, and thankfully the shop is busy. Planting myself directly behind her, I run my fingers through my hair and pull the wax mold from my back pocket. Siân continues to converse with the barista, completely oblivious to my presence.

She flips her hair and offers the girl behind the counter a grim smile. “Thank you, Angela. It’s a good thing I ordered ahead today.” She makes small talk.

Thanks to her wide-open purse, I easily slip her keys from the bag. That’s another thing I’ve noticed about her. As guarded as she seems to be with herself, she isn’t the same way with her belongings. Every time I’ve watched her, she hasn’t bothered to secure her bag. If someone wanted to mug her, they’d have no problem doing it.

Angela goes on about how busy they’ve been as Siân pretends to be interested. She goes with the flow to appear as normal as everyone around her. A part of me wants to feel a little sad that she hasn’t yet figured out that people like us don’t get to be normal. But I push the thoughts aside and steal an imprint of her house key with the mold. But Siân is on the move again before I put her key ring back where it belongs.

“Thank you, Angela. I’ll let you get back to work and will see you tomorrow.” Siân nods and raises her drink to the woman.

“Shit,” I mutter to myself. If I don’t act fast, she’ll most likely figure out her keys aren’t where they’re supposed to be.

Thinking on my feet, I do the only thing I can do and bump into her, purposely knocking her cup out of her hand. The piping-hot liquid splatters across the floor and on the toes of my boots.

“Dammit,” Siân curses.

She immediately snatches napkins from the dispenser on the counter, then squats to clean up the mess I made. She’s so focused on the spill that she sets her bags down next to her.

“I’m so sorry,” I admit. Gathering a handful of napkins, I join her on the floor, using my body to shield her view. “I shouldn’t have been in such a rush.”

Siân doesn’t look up. Her only concern is her ruined drink. Keeping an eye on her, I use this moment to slip the keys back to where I got them. With my hand on my knees, I crane my neck, pretending that I’m recognizing who she is for the first time.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” I say playfully.

“Really? Nice surprise. Dude, you knocked my drink from my hand,” she scorns me, yet still hasn’t taken a moment to meet my gaze.

“And now I’m going to offer to buy you another.”

As the words leave my mouth, the barista calls my name. “I have a cappuccino for Christian.”

That gets Siân’s attention because she snaps her head up, and a gasp escapes her the second she lays eyes on me. We stand simultaneously, with me taking the wet napkins from her. Our fingers touch, and she pulls back, then forces her spine straight. She’s pretending again, attempting to make herself less small and flustered in my presence.

I dispose of the trash without taking my eyes off her. Her eyes follow me as I move to accept the drink I ordered and had honestly forgotten about. When I face her again, Siân’s green eyes are slightly dilated, much like they were that night at the bar. She has a reaction to me, one that I sense makes her uncomfortable. Though not because she doesn’t like it. No, that’s not it at all.

Her breathing quickens, and her cheeks have turned a light shade of pink because she’s captivated. I’ve wormed my way into her thoughts, the memory of our brief time together festering inside her. My words being the only thing she can think about.

One thing I’m good at is reading people, and Siân is no exception. It’s clear in the way she moves—barely shying away so that she isn’t so obvious. How her eyes land on everything but what’s in front of her. The subtle hitch in her breaths when I’m nearby. It rang loud and clear in the way her body tensed at the mention of the two men who came to meet her and Kyla. And in the way she nearly came apart just from being next to me. This life she’s chosen to live is smothering her, and deep down, she’s been waiting for the likes of me.