Page 51 of Lord of the Dark

He lingered in the doorway for a moment, the dark opening in the wall behind him like a portal to some forbidden world.

"Suit yourself," he murmured, his grin dangerously lopsided. Then, almost as an afterthought: "But if you dare to rifle through my desk again, I'll have to lock you up. As my prisoner. The cameras are rolling, by the way."

"False imprisonment is a crime."

"So is attempted murder, last I checked." His stare pinned me with that unmistakable blend of calculation and desire. "Though it would be a convenient excuse to finally separate you from Vaughn."

A disbelieving laugh escaped me—so typical of him. I shook my head, buried my face in my hands, and muttered, "You're impossible."

"Be a good girl and stay put." Then he disappeared through the door, which slid shut soundlessly behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, it was as if the room itself had shifted. Just me—and the weight of my thoughts. I sank back into the armchair, gripping the armrests like I needed an anchor. My eyes traced over the office—the expensive materials, the sleek design, all of it polished like flawless armor. Here, he'd threatened me. Here, he'd kissed me. And here, I'd surrendered.Everything in this space felt different. More intense. Dirtier. I inhaled deeply. It was almost as if I'd left my old life behind in the elevator, and now, with every moment at his side, everything I knew was being rewritten.

A soft hum came from the door before it opened again. Alessandro stepped back into the office—black T-shirt, black pants.

I studied him, leaned back in the chair, and shook my head with a grin. "Wow. That wardrobe change was so worth it. You're wearing the exact same thing as before."

He walked past me, tossing me a wink. "I rarely wear tailored suits for the kind of work where you'd rather not send the clothes to the cleaners afterward." He reached for the gun on the table as if it were the most natural thing in the world, sinking into the chair with the casual ease of a man who owed no one an explanation. "I was already up to my elbows when the motion sensor went off... You just had to play secret agent and break in here. Though the fake name bit—I’ll admit, I was impressed," he remarked appreciatively, unlocking the bottom drawer where he’d apparently stashed the ammunition and rummaging through it.

"Ah yes, you were 'out on business all day,'" I repeated dryly. "With someone who probably won't ever walk straight again without assistance." Unconsciously, my face twisted into a disapproving grimace. The casualness with which we discussed this was downright grotesque.

He looked up at me while calmly clicking the magazine into place with stoic indifference. Then his gaze lifted, eyes glinting with mockery. "There you go with that Mother Theresa face again." He gestured with the barrel toward the large, pale rug in front of his desk. "Convenient how you forget that I’d have bled out right there if this damn thing had been loaded."

That same old tune. "You already got your revenge by holdingthat gun under my chin," I reminded him.

He leaned back, the weapon resting casually in his hand, studying me with an expression caught between amusement and something darker. "True, I did press a gun to your throat." A quiet, almost inaudible laugh. "Would’ve been dramatic—if it hadn’t made you so fucking wet." He stood, stepped closer, let his gaze roam over my face like he was dissecting every reaction. "I knew you were different. Not so easily shaken. Maybe a little unhinged." Then he paused in front of me, a half-smirk playing on his lips. "But getting off when someone holds a loaded gun to your neck?" He shook his head, as if even he couldn’t quite believe it—or how much it thrilled him.

I lowered my eyes, feeling the heat rise to my face. "Shut up," I hissed, mortified.

He just grinned shamelessly, knowing full well he was right. Then he pulled me into his arms. "It's time for you to go," he whispered, his tone as tender as a romantic confession against my ear.

I had to laugh—it was so absurd.

"Hm, no one's ever kicked me out of their office quite so... romantically." I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. "I'll remember this the next time you barge uninvited into mine."

"Like day after tomorrow, for example. That’s when our next meeting is scheduled. Will you be there?" His grin was mocking.

"Well, the reason for our... fiery interlude today is the despicable fact that you’ve already arranged everything. So yes, I suppose I have no choice."

"There you go. Good planning is half the battle," he said with smug satisfaction.

We walked together to the stairwell, where he used a keycard to unlock the heavy door and then the elevator.

I couldn’t help but shake my head and roll my eyes.

"Come on," he said, still grinning. "You noticed yourself how massive the security gaps here are."

We stepped into the elevator, and the doors slid shut silently behind us. A brief jolt, then the cab began to move. For a moment, the only sound was the quiet hum of the machinery.

"Will you be visiting your Colombian friend again today?" At the thought of what he might still do, my stomach twisted.

His eyes darkened instantly. "I have to."

Oh God.

"And, will you take Vaughn apart today as well, to make him explain his successful business models to you?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

We laughed almost simultaneously.

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