Perfect Monster by B. B. Hamel
Roman
The girl was having a panic attack.
Interesting.
She hugged herself with one arm and with the other she traced a line across her belly. I didn’t know what that was all about. She looked tiny in that jacket, swallowed by the oversized sleeves and body, the big furry hood tossed gracelessly behind her.
She looked like a perfect, little doll.
I’d noticed her the moment I walked into that club. She was small, a foot shorter than me, with full, red lips and smooth, pale skin. She wore her dark hair up, with small strands framing her pretty face. Her hazel eyes were filled with utter, absolute terror, though they’d shone earlier in the night with something I didn’t quite understand.
She was panicking more over being in a car than she had over watching a girl get executed right in front of her eyes.
Which was very, very interesting.
I’d found myself drawn to her from that very first moment. She wore clothes that were slightly too large, as if she wanted to hide herself from the world, and that only made me want to peel her apart and inspect every inch of her body even more. I could tell she had a gorgeous figure hidden away, and I relished the challenge of breaking past her barriers.
But why a girl like that had barriers at all was a mystery.
And why she’d be so terrified of cars was even more fascinating.
I caught her eye, and she looked like she was on the verge of getting sick. I couldn’t have that, not when Erick had just recently gotten the car detailed.
I leaned closer and put my hand on her thigh.
“Do you know what’s happening?”
“Please let me out,” she whispered, sweat beading on her forehead.
“You’re having a panic attack. You need to take deep, steady breaths. What’s your name?”
“Callie.”
“All right, Callie. Breathe with me.” I took a deep breath, counted to three, released it. “Do you see? Breathe with me, Callie.”
She whimpered, bit her lip, but she obeyed.
There was something beautiful about the way she trembled as she hovered right on that line of pure fear. She was out of control, and that enthralled me—I was a man that never allowed myself to spiral. My entire world was built around my ability to influence my surroundings and to keep them subservient to my will.
Without that, I wouldn’t last long. Not in my line of work.
“Breathe, Callie.” I moved my hand up her leg along her simple black slacks toward the top of her thigh.
Toward the warm spot between her legs.
Heat radiated from her body, and a sudden thrill ran down my spine.
She must’ve noticed. Her mouth fell open.
White teeth. A slight gap between the front two.
Fuck, she was pretty.
Gorgeous, actually.
I wanted to reach up and wrap my fingers in that thick hair and pull it tight. I wanted to chew on her lower lip, bite until it bled. I wanted to taste her and hear her moans and watch her slowly take off all that clothing until she revealed herself to me, all her glorious skin, all her little secrets.
I wanted to unfold her.
“Breathe, Callie.”
Slowly, she calmed. Not entirely—her hands still shook—but enough that she didn’t look like she was about to lose it all over the floor.
I left my palm on her thigh. I wanted to move it up further.
She leaned her head back against the seat and stared at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry. I don’t like cars.”
I forced myself to pull my hand away.
That shouldn’t have been difficult.
“I noticed.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because I want to.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
I took another deep breath. She breathed along with me. We were in sync, her body aching for mine as much as mine ached for hers, our chests rising and falling together. I let my gaze linger on her long, slender neck then travel up to her tight jaw, her button nose, her rosebud lips.
“I’m helping you because I don’t like it when innocent people get killed.”
She frowned, and her eyes rolled toward mine. The hazel sparked with each passing streetlight. “That seems odd, given the sort of company you keep. You’re one of them, right? You’re a mafia guy?”
I caught Erick’s look in the rearview mirror. He was grinning.
I looked back at Callie. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Still in sync.
“No, I’m not a mafia guy. I’m not in a bratva or a cartel or an organized crime family of any sort.”
“Then what were you doing back at that party or whatever the hell it was?”
“That was a celebration of a new business venture.”
“Whatever. Why were you hanging out with a bunch of mobsters?”
“I told you already. I’m nobody.” I patted her leg and felt a sudden surge of desire. I had to lean back in my seat and tear my eyes away from her to keep from doing something very stupid.
“Whatever you are, Manzi seemed afraid.”
“Ah, well. Manzi’s not so stupid. I may not be a mobster, but I am much, much worse.”
“Worse than a gangster? I find that hard to believe.”
“Just keep breathing, Callie. We’re almost home.”
She gave me a strange, uncertain look, but I took a deep breath in, and a deep breath out, and she followed my lead.
We kept breathing in silence for the rest of the ride.
Interesting. Very, very interesting.
