Definitely jealousy.
It’s Cassandra. On her knees. On a bed that isn’t hers. And the gauzy little nightgown she’s wearing is pretty much see-through.
I turn the page.
She’s on her back, her head hanging off the foot of the bed, her arms draped down toward the ground, her dark curls pooling between her hands. She’s not looking at the camera in this one; she’s looking to the side. And she’s wearing— I grip the book tighter, and the spine creaks.
She’s in a bra and panties. That’s it.
The angle of the shot highlights her giant tits, mounded on her chest, held in place by black lace and underwires.
I turn the page.
She’s standing in front of a full-length mirror. The shot is from behind, and she’s still just in her underwear. This one is in black and white. And…
My breaths are coming faster.
My chest rises and falls as if I’m fighting for my life.
I turn the page.
Again.
Again.
All her. All my Cassandra. Spread out like a fucking centerfold.
For someone else.
My vision tints an ugly shade of green, and I storm out of my house, book in hand.
CHAPTER 11
Cassie
When the popping starts to slow, I hit the button to stop the microwave and yank the door open.
Popcorn steam plumes out, but I fan it away and lift the bag by the corner.
It’s Friday. I’ve logged off from work for the day. I’ve put my hair up and I’ve got my not-for-public little cotton shorts on, along with the worn T-shirt I got at the Grand Canyon years ago. This is my definition of comfort, and my plans consist of becoming one with the couch while I catch up on the newest season of my favorite true crime series. Because what’s more relaxing than murder?
Pinching the bag tight so I don’t drop it, I carry it over to the dining table, where I have my big red plastic bowl ready.
I’ve burned myself more than once opening these papery bags, so I carefully grab opposite corners with my fingertips and start to pull gently.
Then a loud pounding on the front door startles me so badly I jump and accidentally rip the bag in two.
Popcorn showers around me.
Dropping my grip with one hand, I slap my palm over my heart.
“What the hell?”
I stand for a second, wondering if I really heard someone knocking, when it sounds again.
I set the bag on the table amid the scattered popcorn and head toward the door.
“Cassandra!” My name booms through the closed door.
Wait.
Is that…？
A fist pounds against the wood again, and it shakes in its frame.
“Cassandra, open the door.”
My heart keeps galloping but for a new reason.
Is that Hans?
And did he call me Cassandra?
Popcorn crunches under my slippers as I hurry to the door.
CHAPTER 12
Hans
If I could force myself to let go of the book, I’d pick her lock and let myself in.
But I won’t let go.
“Cassandra,” I bellow a third time.
The deadbolt clicks, and the handle turns, and I step through the door as Cassandra opens it.
She lets out a squeak of surprise, but she doesn’t try to stop me. Doesn’t do anything except back up.
“What the fuck are these?” My voice is quieter than before. “Who took them?”
“Wh-what?” Cassandra blinks up at me.
Her eyes are wide, and her cheeks are flushed, and she looks so much like that first photo I want to shove her to her knees to teach her a lesson about playing with fire.
“Who did you take these for?” I seethe, still stepping forward.
I don’t care who the fuck the man is. I’m going to kill him.
Cassandra continues to back away from me, moving into the living room.
“Hans, what are you—” Her question cuts off when she bumps into the back of her couch.
“This.” I hold up the book. “This is what I’m talking about, little Butterfly. Who did you fucking take these for?”
She drops her eyes to the little black book in my hand, and her brows furrow for a moment before her eyes widen.
Guilty.
“Oh my god!”
Her gasp goes straight to my dick, which has been hard as stone since I first opened this fucking book.
She reaches for it, but I hold it up.
She’s average height, but I’m not, so it’s out of her reach.
“Tell me.” My demand is ridiculous. She doesn’t owe me anything. I have no rightful claim over her.
But I’m past being reasonable. And she’s pushed me here.
“Where did you get that?” Her eyes bounce between me and the book.