Phantom (Cat and Mouse, #0)

by H.D. Carlton

“What’s your name?” I ask again breathlessly. “Ronaldo.” “Do you want to hurt me, Ronaldo?” “Never,” he answers. “I only want to cherish you, Genevieve.” “How do you know my name?” “I know everything about you. Just as I know you will love me, too.”

I’m not only riveted by her. I’m possessed by a need to have her. And she must be mine.

What is she writing? And will she write about me?

Her husband has unintentionally dragged her into a world where she doesn’t belong. Yet it is I who will never let her leave.

I’m sure my husband will be the culprit. With the stress he’s causing me, my heart is destined to give out.

I’m very afraid of this strange man. But my God, am I also intrigued.

I’m a bad man, but I won’t be her monster. No. I want to be her savior.

The milkman steps out of the truck in his usual all-white uniform—and Christ, can his clothing be any tighter?

“I want you so badly, it hurts to breathe without you near,” he whispers softly, finally—finally—gracing me with his voice.

“I will bleed for you, mia rosa, but I must require you to bleed for me, too,” he warns.

“Just as I will always hold on to you, mia rosa.”

Then, one day, he came to her with a single rose in his hands, the thorns plucked from the stem.

I couldn’t help but ask him to sing, too. I wanted to know if his voice would harmonize with the melody in my heart. It did.

How does one breathe when the one who possesses their lungs is standing behind them?

“I’ve always loved cookies. Maybe because I enjoy eating things that are sweet and melt on my tongue.”

If you were standing at the edge of the earth and wanted to fall, I would only stop you long enough to take hold of your hand so I could go with you. There isn’t a life where I wouldn’t be your phantom, or a death where I wouldn’t be your reaper.”

“You think you’ll scare me—that you’ll make me scream. Yet screaming for you is exactly what I would love to do, Ronaldo.”

A single touch, and he’s already surpassed John.

I want this man to bow at my feet and serve me.

“I’m half-blind, Lenny, not half-deaf,” I snap, growing impatient.

My God . . . he is a god.

I lift my chin, boldly holding his stare as I demand, “So fuck me like one.”

and if I wasn’t already in love with her before, I’m utterly powerless to her now.

Instantly, my aching heart eases, and though I’ve begun to loathe my husband, I sure do love the little human he helped me create. And for that, I’m grateful for him anyway.

Be a perfect little wife, he had said. That’s what’s expected of me. But I’m tired of doing what’s expected of me.

To put it simply, John Parsons doesn’t deserve my love. Not anymore.

It’s my duty to ensure that doesn’t happen, even if I’m tempted to stick out a foot and trip the damn man.

The only reason he still breathes is because I’m deeply in love with his wife.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to only love you in the dark when you deserve to be loved in the light?”

“I am destined to love you from the shadows, mia rosa,” he says quietly. “I will never be more than your phantom.”

“Killing offers you relief. But you must decide if ending a life is better than experiencing your own, my friend.”

“How cruel it is that Mother Nature spent millions of years forming such a beautiful sight only for you to exceed it within mere minutes.”

“Thank you for showing me a love for waterfalls,” I whisper. “I never knew I loved them.” I feel his gaze burning into the side of my face, where a lone tear leaks down my temple. His index finger swipes the tear away, but he doesn’t coddle me or demand I tell him why I’m crying. Instead, he whispers, “There are so many more I can take you to.”

“What about the . . .” I trail off, attempting to find a delicate way to put it. “The contracts?” “Undoubtedly, I will miss them. But there is nothing more fulfilling than you, Genevieve. I will gladly wash my hands clean of blood if it means your hands will replace it.” Butterflies unleash in my stomach, and I am at a loss over how this villainous man became my hero.

“There will never be another, nor will I live a life without you. Death awaits us all, Genevieve. Even still, it will not keep me from you.”

May 16, 1946 I love you, Ronaldo. With every beat of my heart and every fiber of my being. I love you so much. Not even death can take that away from us.

Mirth ignites in Zade’s stare, though something darker accompanies it. He’s so going to get me back later. And I’m probably going to like it. Probably. Grinning, I escape back up the stairs while Zade sighs and heaves up the heavy radio. I pause midway, long enough to croon, “Good boy,” before booking it the rest of the way up the steps.

Gigi and Ronaldo are dancing to Frank Sinatra in front of my fireplace, gazing at one another with so much love, it makes my heart ache.

It’s been decades since their passing, yet still they remain together in the afterlife. Even death could not tear them apart, their love surpassing the inevitability of their mortality.