Cruel Infatuation (Underground Kings 3)

Bridesmaids.

“Hey, Grayson, which one are you? I think I’m the drunk one.”

“I’m not answering that question.”

“You’re the one getting married. For sure. All fun, kind of, then serious and gloomy. Yeah, you’re her.”

“Fuck you. I am not.” I am. I refuse to say that out loud. My phone vibrates again, reminding me I have a message. “Oh, shit!” I hope it isn’t Finley. I don’t want her to think I’m ignoring her, but I get the impression she’s ignoring me.

We were talking constantly for a bit, and then she stopped messaging me out of the blue. I admitted I wanted to get to know her more, and I think I freaked her out. I pushed. I hurried. I should have known better with what her profile says. She wants to be friends and go slow, which is what I want.

And then I had to go and rush things because I’m impatient. I want to know how her voice sounds. Is it high-pitched? Low and raspy? Nasally?

God, don’t let it be nasally.

I pull my phone from my pocket and smile when I see her name across the screen. Maybe I don’t need to be too eager. Do I make her wait?

No. Never make a woman wait.

I swipe the message icon, my heart pounding when I see it’s a picture of her, but just of her from behind. She’s sitting cross-legged and looking out over a cliff, and various buildings are in her view.

Her hair glows a beautiful ruby color. Her skin is the color of milk. I bet she’s beautiful, and I bet that’s why she doesn’t want to show her face. She is used to guys only wanting her for her looks, and she wants to meet people the other way. Conversation.

Without communication, two people together are just sex.

FinleyPark: I’m sorry for being nonresponsive. I’m traveling. My service is iffy. Pretty cool view, right? North Carolina is gorgeous.

I’m not staring at the buildings. I’m staring at her, her body, her hair. She looks so small, delicate, and for the first time in eight years, I want to wrap my arms around another woman.

Love destroys everything. Trust no one.

The voice in the back of my head speaks up, reminding me of why I’ve been on guard all these years.

I press my fingers on the screen and zoom in, tilting my head to look at her shoulder. There’s a huge bruise on it.

IsaacGray88: Looks beautiful. I love traveling. Good to know you do too. What happened to your shoulder. Are you okay?

I’m not going to say she’s beautiful, not yet. The last thing I want is to spook her from saying she looks good when I really only know what her hair looks like.

FinleyPark: Ah, clumsy me. I fell and slammed my shoulder against a rail.

The common ‘I fell’ excuse. It could be the cynical side of me, and maybe she’s telling the truth, but my senses are telling me otherwise. Something happened. I can betray her trust and have Sebastian look into her, but I don’t want to do that. I want her to tell me on her own.

My phone buzzes again.

FinleyPark: Where do you live? Maybe on my travels I can see you. ; )

“Oh, fuck.” I fly out of my chair and run my fingers over the scruff on my face.

“What?” Heaven asks, trying to look over the couch at me.

“Um, nothing. Don’t worry about it. I thought I paid a bill, but I didn’t.”

“Oh, that sucks,” he says. “That’s okay. Call them, and it will get sorted out.”

“So positive,” I grit through a forced smile.

FinleyPark: I’m kidding. I’m not trying to stalk you.