Page 29 of Phantasm
I pop my head up. “What was on the USB?”
Humor sparkles in Darian’s frosty eyes as he watches me over the rim. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
I climb out, brushing my hair out of my eyes and straightening my clothes, pretending my dignity isn’t still hiding under the desk.
I’ve given up on it now.
“What have you got there, darling wife?” Darian downs the last of his whiskey, puts the tumbler down on the nearest surface, and levels his breath-stealing and clit tingling attention on me. My knees almost buckle, but I stay upright by some holy miracle.
Maybe I should start praying for protection against deadly men like Darian. Even better—perhaps smoke pours from his skin, like a barbeque, if I throw holy water on him. I’d love to see him hiss in pain before he is exorcised back to Hell.
“What’s in your hand?” he asks again.
I hide the file behind my back. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” He walks closer, unhurried, so I step back, my spine colliding with the bookcase. Darian closes the distance between us, grabs hold of the shelves beside my head, and leans in close.
Why does he have to smell so nice? And why do my insides melt when he looks at me with such heat in his darkening eyes? He’s a cold-hearted murderer. A monster.
“Trying to figure out my password was a bad move.” His whiskey breath fans my lips. “I get notified if someone tries to gain access.”
Damn it. I didn’t think. I could have just as well walked into a bank, shot at the roof with a loaded gun, and told everyone to get on the floor. The moment I tried to unlock his laptop, I triggered his alarm.
In a swift move, he snatches the folder and wiggles it in front of my face with a disapproving tut. “You shouldn’t be snooping around in my office.”
“What do you know about my father?” I bare my teeth. “Did you hurt him?”
He turns artic in a matter of seconds, and shutters come down over his eyes. He tosses the folder on the desk, and I try to snatch it, but he grabs me by the throat and slams me back against the bookshelf.
“Jeez,” I wheeze. “You run from hot to cold in seconds. I’m getting whiplash.”
“Don’t speak about your father in my vicinity.”
“Did you hurt him?” I press, eyes narrowed at his strong reaction. “Was it you that killed him?”
“Let me remind you that you haven’t seen your father in years. You were a naïve little girl when he disappeared. What do you know of your father’s character? What kind of a man he truly was?” Darian pushes away and turns his back on me.
I swallow hard. “And what kind of a man are you, Darian Delacroix?”
When he stays silent, I itch to hurt him in some way, but instead, I ask, “What about that man, Mr. Studdard? You killed his family.”
Darian spins around. “I did no such thing. He killed his own family when he was faced with the music of his sins. His double life was about to be exposed—his reputation dragged through the mud. Mrs. Studdard would have left him and took the kids with her. He couldn’t face it, so he killed his family.” Darian is close now, and I struggle to breathe in his proximity. “I may be cruel, Mrs. Delacroix, but don’t for a second think that I would ever lay a hand on an innocent child or woman.”
“Why did you let that man think you were behind the murders.”
Delacroix fingers a strand of my hair. “To keep him in his lane. He’s a snake who wouldn’t hesitate to sink a knife into my back if he had the chance.”
“So you’re a bad man with morals?”
“Is it such a strange concept?” he asks, tucking my hair behind my ear and tracing the swell of my bottom lip with his thumb.
“Yes…”
“Have I ever told you that you have the most delectable lips? Made to be sucked on.”
My thighs clench as I ignore his comment meant to distract me.
“What is it about you and bookshelves? This is the second time you have me cornered against one.”
