Phantom (Cat and Mouse, #0)

by H.D. Carlton

I thought it was because of my deep love for gothic literature.

Same girly same

“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.”

“Just that he owns Parsons Manor down by the Sound.

Gigi's house !!!!!

With the black siding and gargoyles poised on top of the roof, it looks like it came straight out of the Dracula film. Houses like these just don’t exist in this city, yet here I stand.

My dream style house

A tall, curvy woman sits down in a chair directly in front of the glass. Instantly, I’m riveted by the sight of her.

My heart stills, like God himself froze time as I watch her peer down at something in her lap.

I’m entirely smitten by her, and though there’s no way for me to know, I’m confident she is the mastermind behind Parsons Manor.

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

I came here to learn who John Parsons is, and the only thing I know is that he comes home to the most beautiful woman alive. And he doesn’t deserve it one damn bit.

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

I’d love nothing more than to be consumed by her words, no matter how they greet me. Whether it’s through those red-stained lips or from her delicate hands. I want to know every facet of her, every centimeter of her—mind, body, and soul.

She plagues my mind, infecting it like a parasite and overriding any autonomy over myself. My free will is indebted to her, and without her, I am nothing.

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

She’s a beauty among the ashes that seem to collect in this damned home.

He is as real as the heavy beat of my heart, and his presence as potent as the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Yet I’m also intrigued. Even through the glass, I swear I can feel his burning stare. It’s caressing my face, down the column of my throat, and over my breasts.

An undeniable burn has settled low in my stomach—something I haven’t experienced in years. Not since John and I first began courting.

Frank Williams and John have been the best of friends since I met my husband. Frank’s around nearly as much as John and knows me just as well, too.

And that piece of crap kills you

“I will always take care of you, Gigi. You should know that.”

Frank likes you. So you have a husband, his best friend, and a stalker in love with you