Part of Your World

You're Mine

"'Bout fuckin' time," I growled, eyeing the email Jonah had just sent. He'd taken his sweet ass time finding dirt on Aria's ex, (two weeks, to be precise) and now that it was in front of me, I was almost bouncing with excitement. I glanced up from my laptop, seated in my office on a cloudy afternoon as I peered through my open door. Aria had been running back and forth for two fucking hours, cleaning supplies in hand as she scrubbed my bathroom again. Her thoroughness grated on me, but I'd learned to keep my mouth shut on her work ethic. I'd hurt her feelings one night, and vowed to myself from that point on I'd never harass her about it again.

We'd fallen into a calming routine—apart for the majority of the day but enjoying one another's presence during dinner. I'd sometimes leave for a meeting and come home to the sound of her violin, the tones so graceful it was unreal. I was pleased at how well she got on with Liam, and the two would take random trips to the store or dry cleaners when necessary. After setting up her new phone, no other threats snaked their way into our lives. I took it as a good sign, and as I gazed back at the face of Brad on my laptop, I knew no more trouble would ever follow her. Not when I was done with him.

I'd been a damn fool to believe my desire for Aria would dissipate over time, and then I'd come to the conclusion that if we just fucked I'd quench my curiosity and move on. But it was worse—so much fucking worse. I was addicted to her, and I'd never even had her. My heart would race when she flashed me a grin, I'd smile back at her if we saw each other in crossing—hell, I'd learned sign language faster than anyone alive after hiring that tutor. Something was seriously wrong with me, and I knew deep down that it was her.

Annoyed again, I scrolled down to Jonah's notes, my ears perking at the pitter patter of her small feet as she dashed by, arms full of freshly folded towels. I snorted, giving a shake of my head at her reddened, disheveled appearance. She paid me no mind, always so focused on her task. I'd been annoyed when Nick had left, for she'd had no excuse to sleep next to me, and as the circles under her eyes disappeared, I knew the sleeping pills were working.

My eyes glossed over the essential facts—age, last known residence, any accolades. It wasn't until I was halfway through the boring shit that my eyes fell upon a review from the police station Brad worked at. It was dated three years ago, around the time him and Aria would have met. Positively glowing.

I sneered, scrolling further, a photo of him shaking his commander's hand while holding an award popping up. He was shorter, stocky, with that ugly ass flat top hair cut, his features all tan with sandy blond locks and bright blue eyes. Just seeing him made me want to vomit. Or bash his fucking teeth in.

I read through a few more reviews—all spotless—until one dated just six months ago. It was his resignation from the force. I narrowed my eyes, my heart rate speeding up. Jonah had handwritten a note, an arrow pointing to the corner of the exit interview. All reviews were falsified—he was fired.

I felt a malicious smirk curl onto my face as I leaned back a bit and read further. It seemed Brad's wealthy daddy was more than just some business tycoon—he was rubbing shoulders with the governor of Maine, acting as his personal advisor. No wonder the fucker thought he could get whatever he wanted. His father's money and friends would always be able to bail him out of any trouble. Jonah's final notes sent a thrill through me, and I leaned forward once more, muscles contracting.

Brad had left Maine five months ago, and according to credit card statements, he'd been making his way west, toward New York. My hands trembled a bit, eager to wrap my fingers tight about his throat. Jonah's research hadn't told me if Brad had set up her attempted murder and her mother's murder, but he was definitely guilty of something.