Willing Prey By Allie Oleander - 32

To Shane’s dismay, I don’t immediately move in with him. I considered it, but decided to wait and see where we are when the apartment’s lease ends. September sneaks up on us, the rest of the summer flying by in a blur of hunts, hiking dates, and way too many episodes of Real Estate Wreck . All too soon, school’s back in session. However, the end of my apartment lease is welcome.

When it arrives, I act like I’m considering renewing the lease without Sydney. Shane riots in the most Shane-like way possible and makes a PowerPoint detailing the reasons I must move in with him. I let him get halfway through before admitting I’m fucking with him.

It’s November 1, and I’ve been living here for three weeks. Gretchen has moved in with her daughter. Margot and I are two peas in a people-pleasing pod, and I still haven’t given up on getting her to fire her miserable client.

I’m plucking a rogue chin hair when my phone chimes on the bathroom counter. Picking it up no longer gives me an anxiety spike. I haven’t unblocked Keith’s number. The satisfaction I felt knowing he was trying to contact me, and I was ignoring him, pales in comparison to my current happiness. Shane says they rarely cross paths at the firm, and I’m not sure which one of them is responsible for that. Swiping my phone open, I read the text.

Shane Underwood: Almost home, little deer. Let’s say I’m sick and skip tonight. *cough* *cough*

Shane Underwood: We’d have the house to ourselves…

Caine’s been staying in the guest room I used to occupy while he works at the Abattoir. Though he’s going to the charity event with us tonight, he’s usually out till all hours creeping and crawling anyway. The promise of an empty house for sexy hide-and-seek isn’t as tempting as Shane would like it to be.

After I spent an hour doing my hair and makeup? Not a chance , I respond.

I’m not particularly eager to go to a silent auction, but this one’s benefiting Pawsitively Perfect Pet Rescue, which is run by Marianna Crowe, the wife of one of Shane’s partners. Margot volunteers at the rescue and helped plan tonight’s event. I also want to support her, so we are not skipping. It’s a worthy cause, and an opportunity to push Shane a smidge closer to adopting a dog.

If they play a slideshow of canine senior citizens looking for good homes, he’ll be putty in their paws. So far, his only argument against getting a dog has been that it’s easier not to. Ridiculous coming from a man who makes so many things in his life far more challenging than they need to be.

Stepping back from the mirror, I give myself a once-over. Not too shabby. A clingy navy-blue midi dress with a low neckline and long sleeves. I haven’t worn it since last winter, and it’s snugger than I remembered, so I broke out the shapewear. I’ve pulled my hair into an updo of sorts, leaving enough pieces loose so that if it starts coming apart, it should pass as intentionally “undone.” Hopefully.

There’s a chance Keith and Naomi could be there tonight, and I’m petty enough to admit that I’d like to look a little nicer than I did the last time I saw them. Plus, there’s that law of the universe dictating that one will only run into an ex when looking their absolute worst. Wear something sloppy and have a bad case of hormonal acne? Every person I’ve ever dated will somehow cross my path. There’s a chance the reverse is true, and if getting fancied up increases my odds of not seeing Keith? I’ll go full glam.

Finally satisfied, I hit the light switch and head into the bedroom. Sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed, I slip my heels on. I’m fastening the second shoe when there’s a knock on the door followed by Caine’s voice. “Can I come in?”

Scanning the room to make sure nothing personal is out, I decide it’s safe. “Yeah.”

Popping into the room, he holds out his hands, a tie in each. “I need a woman’s perspective. Which one of these is better?”

Squinting, I try to find a difference. Both ties are black, like his shirt, jacket, and pants. “They look the same.”

With a sigh, he steps closer. It’s only then I realize there’s a subtle light-black-on-darker-black pattern on both. Skeletons in the left hand, butterflies—or maybe moths?—in the right.

He fidgets, and I fight a smile. “The auction benefits dogs, and dogs like bones, so…”

“Skeletons it is.” Caine heads for the bathroom, adding, “You clean up good.”

Downstairs, the front door slams.

“Thanks,” I say, rising from the bed. A glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand shows Shane’s going to have to hustle to get ready.

Footsteps hurry up the stairs, and then Shane walks into the room, already undoing his shirt. Pausing, he takes in my dress and lets out a low whistle. Abandoning his buttons, he stalks across the bedroom toward me. Flames lick my cheeks.

“Oh, you’ve done it now,” he murmurs under his breath, eyes intense. “We’re not going anywhere tonight, and you have no one to blame but yourself.”

“We have to go. Think of the dogs.” I scuttle sideways as he lunges for me. Snagging my arm, he pulls my back to his chest, keeping me upright as my heels skitter across the floor.

He scoffs, his breath on my neck making me shiver. “Fuck the dogs. I’m going to—”

“Nope. That’s bestiality.” Caine’s voice rings out from the bathroom, his words echoing off the tiles.

Shane’s frustrated exhale sends another tingle streaking down my spine. Keeping an arm hooked above my breasts, his other hand gripping my waist, Shane turns us to face the bathroom doorway, and Caine. “What are you doing in here?”

“Tying my tie. Claire picked it.” He shakes his head at Shane, who’s, of course, still in his work clothes. “Don’t you know this is a classy event? Show some respect for the dogs you want to fuck.”

With a groan, Shane releases me, moving toward the closet. “Isn’t there something I can spray to get you to stop haunting our house?”

The “our house” makes me smile as I settle back onto the edge of the mattress.

“Nope, I’m only allergic to shellfish, remember?” He follows Shane into the large walk-in closet, his voice muffled by the wall. “So unless you want to fill a Super Soaker with clam juice, you are shit out of luck.”

I text Sydney while I listen to them bicker, only getting involved when Caine orders me to veto a dark brown suit Shane wants to wear. By the time we’re walking out the door, my cheeks ache from smiling. Tonight is going to be fun.

The event is held in a swanky hotel, the kind with a doorman and a chandelier in the lobby. Caine vanishes within moments of arrival to look for Margot. It’s not a black-tie affair, but Shane looks good enough to eat, his suit hugging his bulky body in all the right places. Getting to the ballroom where the auction is taking place is a process. For as reclusive as he is, Shane knows too many people.

Smile and nod, smile and nod.

Suffering through introduction after introduction, I give up trying to remember names. We’ve barely stepped inside the ballroom when Shane is cornered by yet another person wanting to talk shop. As soon as it’s acceptable, I excuse myself to peruse the auction. Local businesses have donated services and gift certificates, but their offerings don’t interest me as much as the easels throughout the room. Every easel holds a large plastic sign featuring photos of an adoptable dog and his or her story. Pausing to examine each one, I try to guess which will be the most likely to tug at Shane’s heartstrings. I could love a pit bull as easily as a Pomeranian, so it’s a matter of finding a dog he can’t resist. Parked in front of a picture of Ralph, a Rottweiler cross with a graying muzzle that gives him a distinguished appearance, I flinch when a voice jars me from my thoughts.

“You would be looking at the dogs instead of what’s up for auction.”

So much for never running into an ex when you look good.

Dread, resignation, and something akin to exhaustion overwhelm me. Against my better judgment, I turn to Keith. That twinge of pain is still there, but it’s fainter than the last time I saw him. It’s even duller than when my leg flares up. I look around the room for Naomi and can’t find her. The ballroom is massive and full of people. I picture Margot lurking with a drink, prepared to baptize Naomi again, and hold back a smile. “Is Naomi here?”

Keith shakes his head, green eyes trained on mine. His step closer makes me want to take a step back, but I hold my ground. “I’d like to talk to you. Maybe somewhere quieter?”

I go for neutral. “I’d prefer to stay here.”

“Right. Well, how are you, then?” Keith’s smiling, but it isn’t his real one. After eleven years of marriage, there’s no such thing as a poker face. The tightness around his eyes, the way he’s hooking a thumb into his pocket, and the fine line between his eyebrows are all tells. He’s angry, but hiding it.

It throws me off-balance. He wasn’t mad when I saw him at the Alley. I almost tumble into old habits, the urge to ask what’s wrong and then fix it so visceral that containing it feels like trying to hold back a sneeze. “Fine, thanks. How are you?”

“I’m all right. Be better if you hadn’t blocked me,” he says with a playful wince and a hand over his heart as if I’ve wounded him. “Will you at least tell me what I did so I can apologize? Or are you going to make me guess?” His inflection might make an eavesdropper think he’s teasing me, that this is all in good fun. Only I know there’s a blade under the sugary tone he’s keeping cotton candy light.

“There’s no reason we need to talk.” My smile is tense as I fight to keep from asking why he cares if he’s blocked, because I wasn’t responding anyway.

Don’t stir up trouble Shane will have to deal with at work.

“I know you and Underwood are dating. Did he tell you to block me?” Keith can’t quite hang on to his nonchalance.

“What?” My surprised laugh is genuine. “No, of course not. He doesn’t make me do anything.”

Except come so hard I forget my own name.

Keith shifts closer. “If he’s being controlling now, it’s only going to get worse.” His transition from barely concealed anger to whatever this faux concern is makes my head spin. “I’ve worked with him for years, Claire. Trust me, you two aren’t a match—he’s married to the firm.”

“Shane is not controlling.” I try to match Keith’s playful tone from earlier. “And thanks, but I’m not taking relationship advice from my ex-husband.”

“Understood.” Easing back, he turns both palms toward me as if fending off an attack. “Just trying to look out for you.” It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes.

Keith nods at someone over my shoulder, flashing a smile that probably only looks pissed off to me. Shane’s voice reaches me the same time the smell of his cologne does, the notes of cedarwood and bergamot almost as solid and comforting as the arm he slides around my waist. “Caught you.”

Clearly, I’m the only one worried about causing tension at the firm, because Shane presses a gentle kiss to my cheek as if we aren’t standing feet from my ex-husband. My ex-husband, who is looking angrier by the second.

Okay, then.

“Keith,” Shane says in greeting. There’s zero indication that he thinks this is uncomfortable, so I take my cue from him. “Tanner and I were just talking about the Nelson acquisition.”

That’s when I realize Tanner’s standing on Shane’s other side and give him a quick hello. As the conversation circles around work, Keith settles somewhat, still tense, but no longer radiating pure irritation. His eyes stay on me, though, making it hard to relax. Shane includes me in the conversation, dry as it is, tracing patterns on my hip with his fingertips the whole time. It’s impossible not to compare this moment to previous events with Keith, how I silently shadowed him or held up a wall. Being included, even if I don’t have much to contribute, feels good. It’s also nice not to have my sex life brought up as a topic of discussion.

Such a low bar.

What’s hard to wrap my head around is that once, I was happy with that. Not just the unpleasant outings with Keith, but everything else. Shrinking myself. Always coming in second. Never causing a fuss. Now that I’m outside it, I could never fit back into the kind of relationship I had with Keith. It would be like trying to squeeze into my jeans from high school: painful, pointless, and a reminder of a time when I had questionable taste.

A pleasant-looking man I don’t recognize joins the conversation, and I use the opportunity to excuse myself. Shane tugs me closer before I go, his lips hovering above my ear. “Don’t be gone too long. You know I’ll hunt you down.”

“Sounds like a good time,” I murmur back, then slip from his hold. As I walk away, the discomfort of being watched prickles the back of my neck, but I don’t look over my shoulder to see if it’s my imagination. It’s too risky; with my luck I’d trip and face-plant, and then everyone would be looking at me.

In the bathroom, I take a minute. Dab the nervous sweat that sprung up between my breasts with a paper towel while I was talking to Keith. Fiddle with my hair. Right as I’m getting ready to venture back into the event and look for Margot, a stall door opens. She steps out, a surprised smile on her face.

I smile back. “There you are. The event is gorgeous; you and Marianna did such a good job.”

“Thank you.” She moves to wash her hands. “I was looking for you in the ballroom.”

“Keith caught me.”

Meeting my eyes in the mirror, she scowls. “Bad?”

“Strange. He’s angry I blocked him and asked if Shane made me do it. Wanted us to go talk somewhere quieter .” I pinch at the fabric of my dress, trying to fix a crease in the shapewear that lies beneath.

“He’s such a piece of work.” Drying her hands, she carefully shifts her engagement ring to dab beneath it, then delicately wipes the large stone. “I think he’d have you and Naomi going again if he could.”

“That’s pretty diabolical. And ballsy.”

Straightening her burgundy cocktail dress, she gives me a look . “He’d do it. Trust me. Why else would he want to talk to you alone? You know he has to be fuming that you’re dating Shane. I bet he framed the blocking thing as if he were worried Shane was bossing you around or something.”

Gaping at her in the mirror, I sputter, “That’s exactly what he did. How did you know?”

Reapplying lipstick, she checks her teeth, oblivious to my shock. “He reminds me of someone I knew. They want to control you, but manipulate it to seem like they’re protecting you. Blocking him was the best thing you ever did. Whatever game he’s playing—and I know it’s getting back with you one way or another—you can’t win, because he’ll just change the rules.”

I’m about to ask for more information. Margot has been tight-lipped about her life before moving to Maine for as long as I’ve known her, and I haven’t wanted to be pushy. But if she’s volunteering—

As if she’s in my head, she changes the subject abruptly. “Your lipstick is gorgeous, by the way. What’s it called?”

“Thanks, it’s my favorite. I keep one in every bag. Runaway? Traveler? Something like that.” I adjust to her change of topic, pulling the lipstick from my purse and passing it to her.

Reading the bottom of the tube, she lets out a soft laugh. “I’m a little worried that you forgot its name.”

I look at her blankly.

“It’s Wanderlust.”

“You’re kidding.” She passes it back and I see for myself. “How did I not remember that?”

Margot’s thoughtful, looking at the tube. “Mine was red.”

The lipstick she just reapplied isn’t red, more of a pinkish brown. “Not really.”

Shaking her head, she smiles. “Not the lipstick. My safe word was red . Only you had wanderlust . I thought you chose it.”

I contemplate the lipstick. “That’s a weird coincidence. Are you sure I’m the only one who had wanderlust as a safe word?”

“Positive. The others had red too.” She flinches, waving a hand like she can brush away the words. “Shit. Sorry. I wasn’t trying to bring up—”

I catch her hand and give it a soft squeeze before I let go. “Don’t apologize. I asked.” While I loathe the idea of Shane hunting someone who isn’t me, being upset at him for having a sexual history isn’t fair. And if I’m being honest, I love knowing he doesn’t enjoy hunting just anyone, he enjoys hunting me . “It doesn’t bother me.”

“I’m still sorry, because it would bug me.” Her humph of displeasure makes me laugh.

“Then it’s a good thing Jeremy doesn’t have a history of hiring women to hunt,” I tease as we start toward the door. “Where is he? I thought he was coming tonight.”

The mention of her fiancé makes her smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Headache. He thinks he might be coming down with a bug.”

“That’s too bad.” My disappointment is genuine—he should be here to see what a fantastic event Margot helped put together— but it’s also selfish. Jeremy is even cagier than Margot, and I want to figure him out too.

As we walk back into the ballroom, Caine materializes on Margot’s other side, with a soft “How’s it going?”

She jumps at Caine’s sudden appearance, rolling her eyes when she realizes it’s him. “You need to stop sneaking up on me. One day you’re going to scare me so bad I mace you. I won’t feel bad about it either.”

“Oh, you’d feel bad.” He grins. “I wasn’t even trying to scare you. Imagine if I were.”

Margot’s face is flushed—flushing, actually—turning pinker by the second.

Did Caine startle her that bad?

“Let’s get drinks and find Shane,” I suggest as my phone vibrates in my purse. “Hold on, I bet that’s him.”

When I pull out my phone, I see my suspicion is correct. However, he won’t want me dragging Caine and Margot along.

Shane Underwood: Meet me in conference room E

Oh my.

“What is it?” Caine looks over my shoulder and scoffs. “Of course, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you to start running.”

My goofy grin makes Margot laugh. “You better hurry.”

With a promise to find them later, I do. As I wind through the crowd, trying not to make eye contact with anyone who might want to stop and chat, I watch for Shane, wondering if he’s already in the conference room.

Does he really want to fuck here?

With all these people around?

With Keith nearby?

He would. It’s the perfect amount of reckless and dirty. I’m getting wet just thinking about it. This will be the closest I’ve ever come to exhibitionism. Keith tried to talk me into it a handful of times, but the risk never seemed worth the potential reward. This event is exactly the right amount of public—more like public adjacent. Plus, Shane’s an overthinker. He’s not going to put me in a situation that could cost me my job.

It doesn’t take long to spot him, his tall, broad body standing out in the crowd. He’s talking to a mustached man who looks familiar. When I catch Shane’s gaze, he flashes a sweet smile like he isn’t about to fuck my brains out. The look I give him in return isn’t half as wholesome. Surprise and heat cloud his face before he regains his professional composure.

This is going to be amazing.

Working my way through the crowd, I smile politely as I dodge people I sort of know. I can’t get out of here fast enough.