Page 9 of Little Nightmare

I could never exist in a world where Ace had control over anything—including the direction of our conversations.

"I hate you,” I whispered once he parked in front of the circular water fountain. He rolled up the sleeves to his black shirt revealing a black and blue tattoo on his right forearm.

It was a saint.

He never told anyone which one.

I told myself I didn’t care but I’d always been curious why someone who killed with the hands attached to those arms would sully the memory of a Catholic saint by permanently inking its figure onto his skin.

I took a deep breath. “So I guess the back door’s out?”

He shot me a glance. It wasn’t full of pity or any sort of emotion that I could decipher. “You take the back door once, you’ll always be hiding in the shadows. One choice justifies the next choice until you’re constantly cloaked in darkness and afraid of the light. Better to feel the burn of the sun than the isolation of the night, don’t you think?”

"I’m not thinking. I’m feeling. And I’m devastated,” I whispered. “So excuse me for begging the universe for a favor.”

He snorted out a laugh and opened his door. “That was your first mistake.”

“What?” I snapped.

He poked his head back in. “Assuming the universe would give a favor when it owes you nothing. Get out. You have exactly five seconds before I remove you myself.”

"Aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.”

He shrugged. “Five. Four. Three?—”

“Fine!” I jumped out of the car and slammed my door. “Enjoy it while it lasts, I’m having my dad fire you as soon as I can.”

He smirked and walked right up to me then leaned in until his breath was hot on my neck, speaking in a low voice. “Enjoy your wait.”

4

ACE

Sadness is really just anger banging on the door waiting for a fight.

Raven tiptoed around her sadness and gave in to anger like I knew she would. Ridiculous, as the current situation meant that she was a danger to herself and everyone around her, unable to think clearly or make decisions. Angry and provoked, she had adrenaline coursing through her system and was constantly looking for someone to attack.

I planned on being that person.

It kept her alive and on her toes.

And by proxy, I stayed alive too, and did my job, didn’t get yelled at, and wouldn’t end up staring at her full mouth or pink lips. She ripped off her heels while walking up the steps, let out a curse, and kicked them off backwards in my general direction.

I calmly picked them up and held them while she jerked open the front door and stomped through a crowd of family and associates.

She stopped in front of her dad, Dante, early forties, looking like he was still somehow in his twenties with his jet black hairand black suit. The guy’s eyes were so teal it was unnerving. Almost every human who met him decided then and there that he was one of the most attractive men alive—I could at least attest to him passing it down to his twin daughters.

Poor bastard.

Poor me.

Tempest, Raven’s twin approached, then looked down at Raven’s feet, back up at her face and backed off, like they were communicating without using words.

Raven crossed her arms in front of her dad’s towering frame. “Fire him.”

Dante stared into his glass of whiskey. “No.”

“Dad—”

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