Chapter 6

Chloe Madden

With a nervous chuckle, I look at his handsome face, wondering what was going on his mind. The room is too quiet, the tension hanging heavy in the air. I can’t help but wonder how someone can be so unnervingly charming while simultaneously being so terrifying.

"So, what's the plan?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, hoping to buy some time to think of a way out of this mess.

His eyes gleam with amusement as he steps closer, his breath warm against my ear. "The plan is to do something that puts my final message across well." He steps away as he removes a small first aid box from his case.

My heart pounds in my chest as I glance around the room, searching for anything that could be used an excuse to get out of this. His gaze follows mine, and he lets out a soft, almost affectionate laugh.

"Looking for an excuse? You just have to say no, and I will leave," he says, his tone casual as he sets everything out on my coffee table like he's preparing for an art project rather than a torment session.

"You’ll leave me alone but kill my father," I snort at the absurdity of my so-called choices, my sarcasm masking the dread clawing at my insides.

He tilts his head, studying me for a moment before nodding. "This will be over in a few minutes. Stay calm," he advises, his voice disturbingly soothing as he sifts through his collection of knives.

Psychopath.

"How about we fake the injuries? Makeup bruises and cuts?" I suggest, kneeling beside him, trying to decipher his next move.

He looks up, his expression deadpan. "Yeah, because the mafia is renowned for our grade A makeup artists and fake threats," he retorts, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I roll my eyes, more out of frustration than anything else.

"Is it possible for you to not be sarcastic for one second?" I ask, my irritation bubbling to the surface as he picks up the largest knife, smirking when he sees my eyes widen in terror before he casually sets it back down.

Oh, this is a game for Mr. Gray.

"Okay, come on. Sit on the couch and let's get creative," he says, his tone suddenly serious. I plop down on the couch, my heart pounding in my chest as I brace myself for whatever comes next.

I gulp as he kneels in front of me, my body frozen. I can't look at his face without my cheeks heating up, he was still so much taller than me. My chest rises and falls rapidly as his eyes shamelessly trace the line of my neck, then my hands. I suck in a harsh breath as he moves my hair away from my neck, pushing it behind my back.

I feel my face flush as his beautiful, blank expression stays focused on my neck. Without warning, he runs his long finger along the side of it, sending goosebumps all over my body.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low and almost gentle, "you don’t have to be so tense. This won’t be as bad as you think."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one getting hurt," I manage to whisper, my voice trembling. His touch is electrifying, a strange mixture of fear and something else I refuse to name surging through me.

Carter’s lips curl into a faint, almost teasing smile. "Well, I have been shot eight times and literally stabbed in my back, but yeah, what would I know," he says, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Yeah, but that’s on you. You chose this lifestyle for yourself. Getting hurt is in your ‘job description’," I reply honestly, my breath catching in my throat as his fingers trail down my neck, stopping just above my collarbone.

"Aren’t you a cop?" he mutters, his smile widening just a fraction. He leans in closer, his breath warm against my skin. "Isn’t it in your job description as well?"

I nod, unable to find my voice. My heart is a drumbeat in my ears, and I can barely think past the sensation of his touch. Carter's presence is overwhelming, a potent mix of danger and allure that I can't seem to resist.

"Good," he says softly, his fingers brushing against my skin one last time before he pulls away slightly. "Now, let’s get started."

"So you are going to cut me and I have to tell people you did it and that you threatened me?" I ask him, feeling his warm finger on the pulse of my neck, making me gulp.

"You have to tell them that I broke into your house, held a knife to your throat, and almost killed you at knifepoint. You also have to cry a lot and shiver a little while telling everyone this harrowing tale," he explains, making me giggle as the cool side of the knife brushes against my skin.

"You find this funny?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Maybe a little," I admit, trying to stifle my giggles. "It’s just the way you’re explaining it. So matter-of-fact, like it’s a script for a movie."

Carter chuckles, a sound both dark and oddly comforting. "Well, I suppose it is, in a way.”

“So you think my dad is going to back off? You chose the wrong daughter,” I say, laughing, but I see something flash in his eyes for a second—something real. It was strange because I had never seen genuine emotions in those alluring eyes before.

He didn’t find what I said funny.

“No, your father doesn’t run the entire police force, and right now he has no power given that he’s suspended. I hope they make a smart move and stop troubling my people,” he explains, making me nod. “Now breathe in deeply and don’t scream.” He picks up the smallest knife from his collection and takes my hand, placing it on his muscular bicep. I shoot him a confused look, repressing my urge to squeal.

God, this situation is so messed up. I think I have a crush on this ridiculously gorgeous man, and he’s literally going to harm me. What’s wrong with my head?

“If you feel a lot of pain, you can squeeze my arm as hard as you want, just don’t scream, alright?” he asks, cupping my cheek to comfort me, sending a rush of warmth through my chest.

I nod, unable to speak, and squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the pain. I feel the cold knife on the side of my neck, and a scream involuntarily erupts from my throat. Without warning, I feel a big hand cover my mouth, making me immediately open my eyes.

His face is close to mine, his manly scent filling my nose as I stare into his dark gray eyes. He lightly drags the knife down, and I feel the blood trickling. I breathe heavily as I fall back on the sofa, making him almost climb on top of me to finish his job well.

My nails dig into his bicep as I feel small needle-like pain near my neck, but it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. I feel him remove the knife, but he doesn’t move. Our breaths mingle, and my heart beats so loudly he could probably hear it.

His eyes widen as he snaps out of his daze before getting off of me and standing in front of me. We both remain silent, the room heavy with unspoken tension.

Carter stands up, his eyes briefly flickering with something unreadable before he moves back to the coffee table and picks out a small bottle of antiseptic and some bandages. He kneels back down in front of me, his movements surprisingly gentle as he dabs antiseptic on a cotton ball and carefully applies it to the cut on my neck.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost concerned.

I just sit there, too hypnotized by everything that has happened to respond. My mind is spinning, and I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from him. He bandages the cut with precision, his fingers brushing against my skin in a way that sends shivers down my spine.

“There,” he murmurs, finishing up and stepping back slightly to look at his work. “Remember, you need to play your part well. Don’t mess anything up.”

I finally find my voice, though it’s barely more than a whisper. “Okay.”

Carter stands up and looks down at me for a moment, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. Before I can react, he leans in and presses a soft, lingering kiss on my cheek. The warmth of his lips against my skin leaves me breathless.

This isn’t good. Oh no. I think I like him. NO. NO. This isn’t happening right now.

“Take care, Chloe,” he whispers, pulling back and heading toward the door. “And don’t fuck it up darling.”

I watch him leave, still too stunned to move. The room feels empty and cold without his presence, and I’m left with the overwhelming sensation of everything that just happened. My heart is racing as the door clicks shut behind him, I finally exhale, feeling the weight of the encounter settle over me.