Page 61 of A Touch of Dark
“You’re right. I despise your father, and you are the single most devastating weapon I can use against him. But I prefer to utilize you on my terms, as I see fit.”
Can’t blame the man for honesty. “Well, you certainly don’t mince words,” I quip.
“And you aren’t foolish,” he counters. “Accept my offer.”
I should refuse. That would be the smart, logical thing to do. But smart and logical don’t apply to seeking safety in the arms of a psychopath.
As if reading my mind, he adds, “I won’t always be there to listen for your nightly performances, Ms. Thorne.”
I puff up indignantly and bite back a sigh of relief. Anger is a weapon I need now more than ever—I won’t acknowledge the fact he gave it to me.
“Do what you want, Mr. Villa.” I make a show of marching into the living room. Loudly. My heavy footsteps barely drown out the slower, heavier ones in my wake. “Just so long as your offer doesn’t includeyou.”
“This one doesn’t.”
I look back and find him advancing from the hall.
“My next proposal, well… That will require some negotiation.”
I don’t take the bait right away. I nearly run to my coffee maker and fumble with the settings until something dark and steaming pours into a mug. Only after I’ve drained every last drop of liquid do I bite. “And what proposal would that be?”
“Dinner. With me. Tonight.”
“Dinner.” I hum thoughtfully and tap my chin. “Let me guess. You’ll take me to an orgy this time—”
“Dinner,” he insists. “A meal. You and I. Entirely business in nature. We would both be allowed to question each other, and both be required to answer. Honestly.”
I frown and search through my cupboards for another pack of instant coffee. “Frankly, Mr. Villa, I have to wonder why you’d want to question me. I’m Juliana Thorne, and as you’ve said more than once, there isn’t anything interesting about me.”
“I’m sure there is plenty you would like to know about me,” he counters as he starts for the door and opens it. “The next time you search for me online, remember that there are two Ls in my name. Enjoy the rest of your day, Ms. Thorne. Oh, and Julio will be your guard for this evening. He’ll stay out of sight.”
“Dinner…” I draw the word out, only mildly entertained by watching him linger. Oh, he doesn’t want to. I could bounce pennies off the tension coiled in his shoulders. “I’m terribly busy, Mr. Villa.”
He takes a step.
I raise my voice. “But…”
Again, he pauses. For a second. Two. The fact blows my mind. He’s a man with a criminal empire to run, frozen at my doorstep in anticipation of whether or not I’ll accept a dinner invitation. “If I can find the time, how should I reach you? Scream into my wallpaper?”
“Ah…” He chuckles darkly. “But as you yourself have said, I have more important matters to amuse myself with than the life of Juliana Thorne. Have a good day.Adiós.”
He leaves, for real this time. I don’t bother taunting him back.
I sip fresh coffee like the antidote to his poison only to find myself eyeing the very real toxic gift he left for me. I don’t normally keep plants on principle. They require even the bare minimum attempts at nurturing—something that was never my forte. Still, I take a stab in the dark and assume this one needs water. Surprisingly, its delicate petals haven’t started to wither. They cast the faintest aroma that itches my nostrils. It’s deceptively sweet. Like roses, laced with sugary candy. You’d never know that one nibble could be deadly.
If there were a person as sweet and as innocent as oleander, Daddy wouldn’t think twice before letting them off, despite what the evidence may say. They weren’t menacing. Not like Damien or his brothers who alarmed and inspired unease on sight.
Therefore…I drag my finger across my neck and mouth another one of Daddy’s chosen phrases, “Guilty as sin.”
But what does that make me? Oleander, or snarling imposter weeds?
The question haunts me as my cell phone rings.
“Juliana,” my father says from the other end. “I’ve made all of the arrangements for tomorrow. All you have to do is attend.”
“T-tomorrow?”
“The press conference,” he says, exasperated. “I’m having a dress sent over. It will be at ten sharp, and I’ll have a car sent for you an hour before.”
