Page 55 of Betrayed in the Dark
Ha! As if Madeleine would ever—
“Okay,” she responds, taking a bite of her salad and chewing extra aggressively.
I blink once. Twice. Three times.
Am I fucking dreaming right now?
Living in some fictional world?
I glance down at Madeleine beside me, and she suddenly seems smaller than when we arrived. Her shoulders are hunched in, her chin is lowered, and her eyes are downcast.
I glare at Alastor, who looks far too pleased with himself.
What the fuck does he have on her?
“How’s the McLaren W1 treating you, son?” Adolfo asks Alastor. “Worth every penny?”
“If you mean, was it worth the over two million I paid for it? Then yes.” Alastor grins arrogantly. “You’ll have to come over to see it sometime. A photographer from the magazineBusiness Centurywill be visiting next week to shoot it for their cover withme inside. They’ll be featuring a whole spread on my success in the oil industry.”
“That’s wonderful, dear,” Mila offers proudly.
“Maybe some time,” Cressida starts, “I could drive it?”
“Ha!” Alastor feigns laughter. “That car is the most important thing in the world to me. No one but me will drive it, touch it, or breathe near it.”
As the Manacorda family converse over cars, stocks, and other bullshit, I feel a storm brewing inside me. The belittling of the most significant person in my life doesn’t sit right with me. Not one fucking bit.
My fist slams down on the table, rattling the silverware and glasses. I’m fuming, feeling ready to unleash violence—
My body freezes as Madeleine’s hand slides over my thigh. She looks up at me with pleading eyes. Her slender fingers gently squeeze my leg as she mouths,Please don’t.
My cock swells as blood rushes to my groin. Her hand is only an inch from where I want it to be. From where I dream of her touching me.
I’m paralyzed by her closeness.
The way her thumb glides back and forth only adds to my longing for her.
A voice clears, and we both turn to see Alastor watching us. By some miracle, he can’t see Madeleine’s hand placement from the angle he’s sitting at.
“Darling, how did the cake tasting go?” he asks, bringing his drink to his lips.
Madeleine’s hand slides further up my leg, making her intentions clear. I spread my legs farther apart, careful not to bump into Cressida.
“It was great. They offer so many flavor combinations; it was hard to choose,” she responds, taking a sip of her drink. A few drops of the red liquid fall onto the top of her dress. “Oh, howclumsy of me.” She removes her hand from my leg and reaches for her napkin to dab at the wine stain, which only seems to grow.
“You should be more careful,” Mila says, frowning. “That won’t come out. You should at least blot it with some cold water.”
Madeleine smiles, but I note the hidden venom in her gaze. “You’re right. I should take care of this in the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
She stands, and I follow her lead as we make our way toward the bathroom. Just as I say, “I’ll wait right here,” she reaches for my hand, intertwining our fingers and tugging me into the room with her.
She closes and locks the door behind us, pressing her forehead to the door while she takes a deep breath and then turns to face me.
I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall. “That wine spill was no accident, was it?”
She shakes her head, her hair falling in waves over her shoulders. “No. I needed to get out of there.” She leans against the door and looks at me, like really looks at me, as if seeing me for the first time. She mirrors my stance, crossing her arms over her chest, which draws my attention to her cleavage.
“What’s going on inside your head?” I ask.
