Page 36 of A Touch of Dark
As if I’m that fragile. That weak.
“No.” I shift my weight and place my feet on the floor. “How about tonight?”
And this time, I’ll corner him with questions he can’t refuse. I’ll get to the bottom of Damien. Even if…
My mind shies away from the train of thought.Even if it kills me.
“Hmm?” I prod when he doesn’t answer. His jaw is tight again, his head still cocked like a predator avidly tracking his prey. Have I stumped the cool, collected Mr. Villa?
I suck in a breath when he nods. Apparently not.
“I’ll consider it.”
“C-consider it?”
He turns on his heel and exits my room without explanation, navigating toward what sounds like the foyer. “Have a good day, Ms. Thorne. Drink the coffee.” He pauses, allowing the command to linger on the air. “I’ll be in touch to inform you whether or not I’ll humor your request.”
“Humor?”
I hear the door open and close. By the time I manage to climb to my feet and stagger into the living room, he’s gone. I race to the peephole and peer into the hall just in time to catch his silhouette flicker around the corner.
“Bastard,” I hiss.
But as my voice echoes around me, I remember…
I’m alone again. With no one to stand between me and Simon. With no one there to see how my breathing becomes rapid and my body trembles. There’s no time to regret the action. I already have the door open and I’m stumbling into the hall.
“Wait.” I round the corner and find him standing before the elevator. A hiss of annoyance catches on the air. Yet he maintains the perfect poise of a gentleman.
“Can I help you, Ms. Thorne?”
“Why not just do it now and get it over with?”
He frowns at the suggestion. “I have other arrangements, and frankly, considering how much you drank, the alcohol is most likely still in your system. Mixing that with the drug I use can have dangerous side effects.”
Fair enough. I take a step back and the elevator car arrives with a musical chime. I’m wringing my fingers together as he steps inside and feels along the wall panel for the ground floor button. It’s the most convincing show of blindness from him yet. A minor hint of weakness. As the thought crosses my mind he nods, setting my body alight.
“Keep your phone close, Ms. Thorne. When I’m ready for you, I’ll call.Adiós.”
The elevator doors slide neatly shut, closing him off. And suddenly my chest deflates as I exhale the breath I wasn’t even aware of holding.
Damien can go to hell. One where he’s forced to haveallhis senses to better contemplate his eternal suffering.
When I return to my room, I sample his coffee out of spite and almost spit it right back out. Damn. It’s perfect, made exactly to my daily preference.
Too exact. Almost as if he’s stood over my shoulder and watched me brew it for the past ten years, tweaking my habit to an art form. I take only one more sip before I toss the rest down the sink. Then I cross to my painting and observe it in the growing daylight despite how time stubbornly marches on. I’m late again. Or I would be if I were to go into the office.
Even the thought of returning now makes goosebumps prickle on the back of my neck. Not entirely because of what happened—but because of what hasn’t.
No one’s called reporting a break-in.
No police have asked about my attack.
The fact that someone could invade a public building in one of the busiest cities in the world without so much as a video popping up on social media is…
Chilling. Only Simon could pull it off—or someone far worse.
Rather than speculate, I call the building and confirm that Gus is alive and well at least.
