Page 14 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
No, he didn’t drink here. That activity was reserved for his alone time at home. The expensive drinks and snacks at the bar were for clients. Everything was always meticulously stocked, his assistant Emma, taking inventory of what was running low and replenishing it promptly. Glass decanters and tumblers were arranged neatly on a tray, waiting to be touched.
The only time it was ever used was when clients visited him—something he tried to avoid. He preferred to meet people in more casual settings, or better yet, have Cristiano woo the public. He was so good at it that it was a crime tonothave him do it. Regardless, Mikko didn’t like the stuffy personas people donned inside this sleek skyscraper. People put on their best performances here, dresses and suits ironed to perfection, their faces sculpted into flawless masks of coolness.
But Mikko didn’t want to see that.
He wanted to see people’s true side—their vulnerability.Thatwas when he learned the most about them. Alek had taught him that, taught him everything he would need to know to take over one day. And that day had come much sooner than he’d wanted.
With his large, stately desk positioned just right, Mikko was able to have the sightlines he required to work semi-comfortably. He was still stuck in this dreadful building after all; he might as well make the best of it.
His finger traced the edge of stacked papers on his desk, playing with the notion of getting cut. Teetering on the edge of stinging pain,his mind wandered to Ivan and the state of his henchman’s hands after they doled out their punishments. Cuts and bruises had marred their skin from the work they’d done. It was fascinating to Mikko how the body was so resilient, yet so fragile all in the same breath.
And in a sick, twisted turn of events his brain recalled the moments before the basement—before Ivan and his glaring disrespect. His eyesight blurred, thoughts shifting and settling on the phantom feeling ofherfingertips burning a treacherous path along his skin as she traced the ink along his forearm.
Glancing down, his vision returning, Mikko peered at his suit jacket’s sleeve. Even though he covered the flowers and blackout ink on his arms, a vulnerability in his eyes—a piece of him he rarely shared with others—she’d managed to find and exploit it. Here he was at work letting her worm her way into his head.
He didn’t even know her name, yet…
Have fun finding a new target.
Those six words had haunted him,tormentedhim.
She’s an admirer, someone who knows your status,he’d chanted internally, hoping eventually the incessant repeating of the words would make them stick.
It didn’t.
He’d encountered and entertained women who were chasing after his money and status and they’d never acted this way. Something was off, and if he was smart, he’d keep his guard up when it came to her.
But one word erased every second of his hard work.
Mikko. Mikko. Mikko.
He still couldn’t get over how she wielded his name like a weapon, all while previously feigning ignorance.
Oh, she’s wicked, a temptress I should be wary of.
Mikko considered himself…orderly, trying to never let his emotions get the better of him. But that wasn’t out of choice, it was out ofnecessity. He had a habit of feeling things too viscerally, obsessing over a looming notion leading him to dark places in the past.
There’d been women before this, ones his father had scared off, ones who’d taken advantage of him, or others that had simply thought him too much.
At first it would begin innocently, his mind fixated until sleep began evading him, his emotions unpredictable. Then self-loathing, doubt, and isolation crept in, eager to sink their nasty claws into him. It always ended with Cristiano calling or finding him like this, then dragging him up out of bed, tossing him in the shower, and nursing him back to health. He couldn’t have this again—couldn’t be consumed so fully with something,someone,such as this. A womanhe hardly knew.
Yet, here he was, spiraling.
And to make matters worse, the note he’d found on his motorcycle after the events atBubblegumfelt like an omen. Or a secret message she’d left for him.
After reemerging from the depths of the club, Cristiano not far behind, Mikko had been surprised to find a fluttering receipt tacked to his bike’s windshield.
“Did you get a ticket?” Cristiano had asked, a smirk evident in his tone. Amber lights flashed as he unlocked his Mercedes. “Looks like they missed me.” His friend’s windshield was devoid of paper.
Walking closer, Mikko noted it wasn’t a parking ticket at all, but instead a note. Loopy scrawl, not yet legible from this distance, mocked him.
“Well, what’s the damage?” his friend asked from afar, one leg already inside his car.
“Why do you care? You gonna pay it for me?” Mikko’s voice was teasing despite his eyes scanning over the piece of paper warily.
The words he read made his heart stutter.
I’ve waited a long time to devour you.
