Page 70 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“Stay away from me, Simon,” I spit. “Or maybe I’ll give theChroniclea call about what inspired their new intern to write about an unknown metal band.”

The smirk falls from his face.

“You may think you’ve won, but all I have to do is make one phone call. I doubt theEast Bay Chroniclewants someone on their staff who is a liar and a thief.”

He stares at me, his lips turned down into an unappealing frown, so I take my opportunity to move around him for the exit.

“Did you take the film out of the enlarger?” he asks.

I stop and turn around, my eyes locking past his shoulder where I did in fact forget to remove the film. Dropping my bag to the floor, I move past him to take it out and put the film back in the roll while he silently watches me.

“Seems like you have a bad habit of that,” he says quietly.

I work as quickly as I can so I can get the fuck out of here. “My only bad habit, Simon, is allowing you to walk away from me repeatedly with that pathetic dick still intact between your legs.”

Again, I turn and walk for the door.

“Then how is it that I managed to make a copy of a certain photo of you?”

I freeze, the blood in my veins turning to ice, and as I look over my shoulder at him, I can sense the smugness radiating out of him like an x-ray.

“You’re quite forgetful, but that works out for me as a nice insurance policy,” he says, that self-assured smirk pulled tighter across his face.

“Wh—what photo?”

Dread like a boulder settles in my stomach as I watch Simon pull a photograph out of his pocket and turn it toward me. All the breath in my lungs evaporates as my own eyes stare back at me. The autograph on my shoulder, my bare skin, my thong . ..

“You,” I whisper. There’s no air to get the words out.

“I always knew you had a great ass, Bella. Never dreamed it would be this delectable though—”

I grab for the photo but he raises it over his head and out of my reach.

“Give it to me now,” I grit out, my chest pulsing erratically.

“Ooh, I like it when you beg,” he whispers, leaning his face closer to mine.

The anger is too much and it has nowhere to go but down my arm and through my fingers as I slap Simon sharply across the face. I want to do more. I want to scratch out his eyes and tear his tongue from his throat. I want to hurt him, but all I can do is seethe like a snarling bull stuck behind an iron gate as my hand throbs.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t react much other than flexing his jaw before he hands me the photo. I eye it apprehensively for a moment, then snatch it from his grasp with my sore hand.

“A thank-you would be nice,” Simon says.

“Go to hell.”

“Now, now, Bella, play nice. Remember I still have the film. I can make a hundred copies if I want.”

Shit, I forgot about that. It’s as if the fight whooshes out of me and tears sting the backs of my eyes. “What do you want, Simon?”

“For now? Nothing. You just keep your pretty mouth shut about our misunderstanding,” he says. “And I promise that film will never see the light of day.”

“You’re blackmailing me?”

He shrugs.

“How can I possibly trust you?”

“You can’t. You never could. But, trustmewhen I say, I enjoy having this image of you all to myself. It wouldn’t be as special if everyone had access to it.”

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