Page 21 of Sweet Venom

She’s here.

I’ll hurt her too.

Gritting my teeth, I breathed through the memories attacking me before I said, “Just… go. I don’t want you here. Ever.”

With that, I gave her my back, not wanting to see her sad eyes.

Shit.

I had undoubtedly hurt her heart again.

Chapter

Six

THE DEVIL’S DARK HEART

Poe

“The only thing red today is the bleeding heart I’ll never give away again.” — P

Blackthorn Publishing.

Not long ago, I had been making up scenarios in my head about being one of their authors, and now I was there to meet with them to discuss the book deal they had offered.

The building was not only huge but very intimidating. The black building towered over the street, all glass and dark steel, shining so brightly under New York’s sun it was almost blinding. The name of the publishing house was emblazoned across the front in sleek coal letters, bold and dramatic, as if to remind everyone who passed by that this was where literary dreams came true—or crashed and burned the hell down.

I gulped hard as I stood on the sidewalk, craning my neck to take it all in, my heart doing an awkward little tap dancebetween excitement and nerves. The glass windows reflected the city around it, but they didn’t give away anything inside.

The entryway was as grand as the rest of the building—arched glass doors with intricate detailing that looked expensive even from there. There was a massive revolving door spinning rhythmically, ushering in people who looked like they had their entire lives together—unlike me. Business suits, polished shoes, confident strides.

And then there was me, standing there in baggy jeans and my black blazer—no bra underneath, gripping my black bag like a lifeline. I shifted on my feet, torn between running in and bolting in the opposite direction.

Don’t be silly, Poe… your dream lies inside this building.

“This is it,” I muttered under my breath, willing my legs to move. “Don’t screw this up, Poe. You can do it.”

I took a deep breath and stepped inside, the revolving glass door spinning me into a world that felt more like a movie than real life. The air was cool and smelled of faint coffee and expensive perfume. The polished black marble floors gleamed under the soft, ambient lighting, and everything screamed sophistication, money, and success.

But then my eyes caught something unexpected.

Valentine’s decorations.

Not the typical corny kind that I hated—no pink and red hearts or cheerful red ribbons in sight. Instead, it was all black. Black roses draped over sleek glass vases, black heart-shaped balloons hovering ominously near the ceiling, and garlands of dark lace strung across the space like some sort of gothic Valentine’s Day nightmare.

Wow…

I stopped mid-step, my bag slipping slightly off my shoulder as I took it all in. It was strange, unsettling, but also… it was me. The usual sugary sweetness of Valentine’s Day was nowhere tobe found there. Instead, it was like Cupid had his heart broken and decided to wear his heartbreak like a crown.

I loved it.

The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with glasses too big for her face and curly orange hair, glanced up from her desk, her sleek black suit perfectly matching the eerie vibe of the decor. She barely spared me a second look, as if that entire scene was just another normal Tuesday.

How rare… it almost felt like a Déjà vu.

Huh.

I squared my shoulders and approached the receptionist’s desk, my boots clicking softly against the floor. The woman behind the desk didn’t look up immediately, her perfectly manicured red nails tapping away at her keyboard with a practiced air of disinterest.

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