WARNING. This is a Dark Romance. It may include trope-specific triggers such as but not limited to: mention of abuse, indecent proposal, forced proximity by the hero. Recommended only if you are familiar and comfortable with Dark Romance.
Blurb:
Sirenna
Zayne Thorngren isn’t Lucifer. He’s the whole damn hell. Violence incarnate.
I should stay a million miles away from him but, with the city mafia out to get me, the controversial billionaire is the only one who can protect me.
So, I have no choice but to accept the dirty arrangement he offers.
An affair that Zayne has full control of, while I’m caught in his web of dark desires.
But the more of my problems he solves, the more I realize he’s not going to let me go. Like, ever. His passion is a prison that I’m not sure I want to escape.
Still, there’s one thing more powerful than Zayne’s possession. His secret, hidden in a past that’s coming to tear us apart. A secret that should send me running away in horror. And yet…
Zayne
I’m this city’s golden boy, a celebrated pharma lord.
Some call me the real-life Lex Luthor, while others say I’m my very own brand of vicious.
A member of The Order with no weaknesses. No soft spots. No addictions.
Except for watching Sirenna Carter.
Imagining dirty, nasty scenarios with her.
So when she comes asking for protection from the city mafia, I demand payment right there, on the couch in my office. It should still my lust and get her out of my system, right?
Wrong.
Because now I’m obsessed.
Possessed by a need that’s out of this f*cking world.
I will destroy her enemies and put the world at her feet, but can I protect her from the monster lurking beneath my skin? And when my secret starts creeping out from the shadows of my past, will this twisted love be enough to save us?
***
CHAPTER I
Sirenna
“This is bullshit.”
I throw myself onto the pillow, my phone landing on the bed next to me, showing death threat number fuckteen. A sound rips through the room before a stark light lands on my face, forcing me to slap a hand over my eyes. My groan morphs into a very unladylike, hung-over cough.
“Rise and shine, princess,” a familiar voice chirps. Fuck me, it’s too early to deal with her.
Mia Rogers–soon to be Lady Santori–is the only person I know who manages to sound accommodating and commanding at the same time. She’s a hustler used to getting her way, but at the same time, she’s charming, and pleasant. Me? I’ve been called a stuck-up bitch more often than by my own name.
“Damn it, close those motherfuckers, will you?”
“Like hell I will.” The bed jerks when she drops onto the mattress. I don’t need to look at Mia to know her eyes are running over the empty champagne bottles lying around the hotel room. “I understand that you need time to heal after everything that happened, but you seem to be growing comfortable in your misery. Let me remind you that you can’t afford that. With Joseph missing, you’ve got a whole freaking empire to run, not just this hotel.”
“Not now, Mia, I’ve got a mean hangover.”
“Yeah, you’ve been having a lot of those lately. You need to snap out of it.” She props herself on her elbow next to me, so close now that I can smell her expensive perfume.
“Come on, Sirenna, you’re stronger than this.”
My phone buzzes, and the display lights up.
I don’t even bother to pick it up. Let Mia do it. See for herself why I’m not leaving this hotel for the next couple of decades. A sigh leaves her lips. You know what, let’s take this up a notch. I unlock the device for her and let her read the texts that came before it.
“So, shall I order room service?” I taunt as she reads. “You can listen to the voice messages while you enjoy a hearty breakfast. We have excellent croissants here.”
“I…wow,” she mutters, still scrolling, her eyebrows arched up. If those texts are enough to render the tough journalist Mia Rogers speechless, imagine what they’d do to the average person.
I drag myself out of bed, wrapping the discarded bathrobe around me–not because I need it, since I’m going to step into the shower right away, but because I don’t want Mia asking questions that make me feel more like shit than I already do. I slept in the same tiny red dress I wore last night to the hotel bar, which dress is now crumpled, and my pantyhose are ripped. I wonder how that came to be since I didn’t eventually hook up with anybody.
I intended to. But no matter how drunk I got, I just couldn’t do it.
I squint at myself in the vanity mirror, brushing my matted hair away from my face. My eyes are swollen, my make-up smeared around them, my face puffier than usual. I look over at Mia’s reflection. She’s flawless with her shiny black hair pulled into that stylish do, her skin perfectly tan, her eyeshadow making her intelligent blue eyes pop. I used to look as dignified as her once. A lifetime ago, it seems.
Mia tries to hide it, but she’s worried as fuck. Those messages are going to haunt her for a while, too.
“I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but there’s a shitstorm on Twitter, too,” she announces. “I mean X.”
I let out a hoarse laugh that is devoid of any amusement. “Yeah, the X is all about my ex lately, it would seem.”
“Very funny. The media is all over issues when there’s room for speculation.”
“Are you, too?”
“Of course.” She gives me a slight grin. “You wouldn’t expect any less of me, would you?”
“Of course not. And, what have we got so far?” I throw over my shoulder as I head into the bathroom. I make quick work of getting rid of the dress and the pantyhose before Mia appears behind me and leans against the doorframe.
“It seems Joseph disappeared right after the big party at The Rite,” she says. “From my investigation, you were the last person who saw him that night. I made sure no one involved the police, just like you asked.”
“Thank you. As for being the last person who saw him, I was surrounded by a bunch of guys that Joseph wanted to have gang-bang me that night. Whatever I saw, they did, too,” I reply as I step into the shower. A cold spray comes down, battering my face and back. It makes me gasp sharply, chasing away the memories of that night. Every time I remember, they claw at me like hungry shadows.
Mia keeps talking, but I can’t hear her over the rush of water until the temperature adjusts, the warmth soothing away the goosebumps.
“Declan talked to all of the guys that were around you that night.” Her tone changes, growing softer. More careful as she walks closer to the shower, rivulets trickling over her face through the glass pane. “Busy as they were with you, they lost track of Joseph.”
I swallow against the bitterness coating my palate. “Could Declan even identify all of them? Most were wearing masks.” But not Joseph or I. He enjoyed letting those guys grind into me, knowing full well who they were debasing. “If you and Declan hadn’t taken over the show, arresting everyone’s attention, he would have let those bastards rape me, and I wouldn’t even know who they were.”
“You can’t go down that rabbit hole, Sirenna,” Mia murmurs, now peeking around the pane of glass between us. “Joseph is one of the most disgusting bastards I know. What he did had nothing to do with you, and everything to do with him. He was punishing you for getting dirt on him and leaking it to the press.”
“He was my husband for five years,” I reply, my fingers curling into the tiles. “You don’t do those kinds of things to people who once meant something to you.” Despite the hot water and the heat steaming the glass pane, I start to shiver.
“I understand that these things hurt even if we’re braced for them to happen,” she argues carefully. “I, of all people, know that. But you need to steel yourself, because now that Joseph is gone, all of his businesses, including his enemies, are your problem.” She pauses, surely thinking about the texts on my phone. “Especially the enemies.”
“That bastard, he knew what he was getting me into.” All my muscles flex painfully as I watch the water flow towards the drain between my feet. “It’s probably why he did it. He knew that he could no longer stop the shitstorm that was coming at him. He was going down, and there was nothing he could do about it. So he fled and left me to get ripped to pieces in his place.” I laugh, the sound hoarse and bitter. “I can’t think of a better strategy to destroy someone.”
“He might well be dead, Sirenna.”
I scoff. “Oh, he’s not dead. We would have found a body. The kind of people that he deals with, if they wanted him killed, they would have made a show of it. Set an example. They would have butchered him and scattered his remains all over the city–the way they made it clear they would do with me.” And that wasn’t even the worst threat.
“Many want to take over his empire,” Mia says, making herself comfortable on the closed toilet seat as I wash my hair and my body. “He’s a Triad member. One of the links that connects the underworld with the world of top finance. Access to his banks is worth this city’s weight in gold.”
I scrub myself faster, the new reality firing up my nerves. By the time I step out of the shower, I’m on full alert, an anxiety attack looming.
“This is bullshit, Mia. I’ve been saying it since this morning, and it seems I’m gonna be saying it for a long time from now on.”
She doesn’t argue with me. She knows this is dark shit, and she’s fully aware it can swallow me whole. I see it on her face when I wipe the steam off the mirror. It gives me the chills, seeing the fierce Mia Rogers so worried.
“You should come stay with Declan and me for a while,” she says when I’m done blow-drying my hair, and we can finally hear each other again.
I stare at myself in the mirror, seeking the powerful, effervescent woman I used to be. But the face staring back at me is only vaguely familiar. That woman and this version of me share the same straight nose and uptilted dark eyes, but the intensity those eyes used to have is muted. I never had a plump mouth, my features are rather pinched and severe, but my lips look even thinner now, and my face is almost gaunt.
“That wouldn’t be fair to you and Declan,” I say quietly, resting my hands on the sides of the sink. “You’re preparing for a wedding, you don’t need this kind of heat.”
“I’m sure Declan–”
“I’m sure he would, too,” I cut her off, “because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to please you. But he could spare the trouble. Trying to protect me would mean facing a war.”
“Sirenna, my future husband is one of the most powerful men in the world,” she reminds me kindly.
“So is Joseph. Keeping me safe will be hell with the city’s nastiest overlords trying to get me. Declan can’t protect me forever, and you know what?” I square my shoulders. I may be a broken woman with a drinking problem, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let these assholes tear me down. “I spent a lot of time trying to bring down Joseph Carter for the nasty shit he was involved in. I failed. But now? I’ve never been in a better position to take down half of this city’s evil rats. I could actually achieve something meaningful here.” My eyebrows dip in the mirror as I inch closer to a tough decision. “Right now, I don’t need a protector. I need an ally.”
Mia’s eyebrows rise slowly. “And you don’t think Declan and Jax would come in handy as allies?”
“This isn’t their fight, Mia. Jax kicks ass on the stock market, Declan runs diamond mines. They have nothing to do with the drugs and pharma mob that Joseph got himself involved with. It would be like having an oil sheik fight a social media mogul. No, I need someone who shares the same fight. Someone who has a personal stake in it.”
Mia walks behind me, running her hands through my now dry, silky platinum hair.
“Before you do anything about those guys, we need to find out what happened to Joseph,” she says.
“We don’t have the time to investigate that. Those assholes out there would get in the way. I’m a direct rival to them now, an unprotected one with open flanks. I’d be surprised if I made it to the next street corner without a kidnapping attempt.” I glance out the bathroom door toward the window. The outside world will never be safe for me again unless I do something about it.
“There’s only one person who can help me now.” I release a long, shaky breath, a name on the tip of my tongue. The name that sent icy shudders down Joseph’s spine every time he heard it. “Zayne Thorngren.”
A void sucks away the air when I release it out into the space between Mia and me.
“Zayne Thorngren?” she repeats, her voice quiet. “You mean the Lex Luthor of the real world?”
“Yes. The Lex Luthor of the real world.”
“Sirenna, Zayne Thorngren has been Joseph’s greatest enemy for years.”
“My point exactly.”
Mia places herself in front of me, hands on her hips.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t follow your logic. If anyone is going to take you down on sight, it would be Thorngren. Shouldn’t he be at the top of your list of people to stay away from?”
“He is. Which is why I’m going to see him.” I step by Mia, walking back into the hotel room. I open the wardrobe, my eyes running over the few things I managed to have brought here after The Rite. Not much I can choose from, though. I traded the sharp suits for slutty clothes to hook up with random guys at the hotel bar, but I ended up relying on booze alone to escape reality.
“I’m gonna need something powerful but sexy.”
“Why would you wear something sexy when you’re going to meet an enemy?”
“Because Zayne Thorngren is a nerd, probably autistic, who freezes in front of pussy.”
“How do you know? You’ve never met the guy.”
“No, because he’s very private, which only confirms my theory. He’s respected at MIT like a scientific Jesus, so he’s definitely a super brain. Private, secluded, hence socially awkward.” I cock my head to the side as I calculate, my hands still on the open wardrobe doors. “He was at war with Joseph over who gets to control the drugs on the streets, so it’s safe to conclude he’s an evil genius with the balls to get into virtual fist-fights with thugs. He’s also got businesses in the underground that would give Machiavelli a run for his money.”
“Yeah, we were together when we stumbled over some of this stuff,” she murmurs. A tremor runs down my spine, and if Mia’s tone is any indication, she’s feeling the same.
“And you think you can manipulate a guy like that?” she continues. “I mean, awkward nerd or not, it sure won’t be the first time some chick has pulled the sexy trick on him.”
“I don’t expect he’s easy to manipulate. You don’t become the head of the entire pharma industry, with the most powerful lobbyists working in your favor at the White House, if you are. But maybe he can get a little intimidated. I could try to make him feel like he’s sixteen again, a pimpled boy masturbating under the sheets to the cover of Playboy. Context matters.”
Mia steps next to me, and I drop a hand to let her inspect my wardrobe.
“Red?” she chirps.
“No, not red. That’s your color, and I always looked better in black.” My eyes narrow as I put together an outfit in my head. “Maybe a leather jacket and black lace pumps. A tiny cream satin dress underneath.” Problem is, I have none of that in my wardrobe.
“Mhm, bold. It’ll look both badass sexy and classy with your hair down and maybe some dark red lipstick. The question is, how do we get to him?”
I shake my head. “Not we. Me. I get to him.”
“But–”
“No buts, Mia. Declan will never forgive me if I get you involved with that kind of thug. I’m gonna have to do this alone.”
“Let me at least give you cover.” She gestures toward the window. “Half the city gangsters are after you and–”
“I’ll be careful about how I leave the hotel. Besides, even if I do get caught, nobody’s gonna kill me, not yet. They need me alive to sign things off or to otherwise use me. I would be facing a mafia capo or two before anyone puts a bullet in my head.” I tap my chin with my index finger as the wheels turn in my head. “I would rather not get kidnapped, though. It would be a nuisance.”
“If you do get to Zayne Thorngren, he might be the one to kidnap you. So, how about you let me help?” She holds out her hands before I can protest. “Let’s just start with some good old shopping, okay? After all, we can’t afford anything less than perfect for the Zayne Thorngren Mission, and you don’t seem to have what you need here anyway.” Then, with a dip of her tone that won’t let me say no, “Let me do this for you at least. I’ve got a car ready outside and a squad of bodyguards with experience in Afghanistan. No one will be kidnapping you on my watch.”
I look down at my purse, discarded on the vanity table, the contents spilling out of it. I pick up one of the black cards. I have access to a lot of Joseph’s money, even if not all of it, until he’s officially declared dead.
“Let’s start by spending the asshole’s money.” Wicked satisfaction seeps into my tone. “It won’t lure him out of his hideout, but maybe it will make him toss and turn in it.” My eyes shoot up to Mia’s, whose grin mirrors mine.
When she and I first met, we struck a deal. I would help her get intel on another member of the Blood Fist Triad she was investigating, namely Jax Vaughn, and she would help me get dirt on my husband. I assumed the code name Dakota and met her in a coffee shop with a baseball cap pulled low over my eyes. There, I told her my story.
I told her that, when Joseph and I met, I had already built a few successful start-ups, but I was young, and they weren’t a big deal. We met at a charity where I was hunting for business angels for my new project, an independent media outlet that would actually bring truth to the world. I was also one of the podcasting pioneers, and he was my first hot-shot guest. The head of the New York Corp Bank. I couldn’t believe my luck, I was walking on clouds.
Joseph fascinated me. He was an older, well-spoken man from whom I felt I had much to learn. I wasn’t wrong there. But boy, was I wrong about the price I would have to pay. Soon, he held me in a chokehold. Keeping me confined to our villa made it easy for him to cheat with models every other day, and his substance abuse problem gradually got out of hand. It turned him into a violent man. I eventually learned to avoid his wrath and turned to champagne more often than I liked to cope with my dire circumstances.
Yet the more I learned about the filthy bastard, the more I hated him, and there was only so much that booze could do to numb that down. I couldn’t keep my arms crossed anymore. I had to do something about the underage girls he drugged senseless and fucked with his buddies, about the kids he sent out on the streets to sell his drugs, about the way he waved his hand when one of those kids got shot in the head as if it didn’t matter. They were just cannon fodder to him.
So Mia and I partnered up. We made one hell of a team, she and I.
“I just hope we haven’t become danger junkies,” I tell her with a smile.
She smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Just don’t forget the evil genius part,” she warns. “Remember the stuff we discovered on the streets about Thorngren. That man is Machiavelli made flesh. Even the Blood Fist Triad are wary of him.” And we both know what that means. If he makes the rulers of the underground squeamish, there’s got to be something truly devilish about the man. “I’ll ask Declan to–”
“I told you, I don’t want Declan involved in this. At all. He’s already done enough having the guys from The Rite interrogated.” My voice fades over those last few words.
Mia releases a long exhale, full of patience. “Sirenna, I know why you’ve really been avoiding Declan and Jax. You’re ashamed of the situation Joseph put you in at The Rite. All those guys and–” She stops in time, surely seeing the heat creeping up my cheeks. “But there’s nothing to be ashamed of. They understand better than anyone. Besides, if you feel like shit, how am I supposed to feel? No one actually put their dick inside you that night, while Declan fucked all my holes in front of the entire crowd.”
“And you sound fucking proud about it.”
“There you go,” she says, running her fingers through my hair as the heat leaves my face.
“Sometimes all it takes to make a girl feel better is pointing out that someone else should be feeling worse.”
She laughs. “Always glad to be of service. Now, how do you plan to get to Zayne Thorngren?” She taps her index finger against my temple. “Because I know this brilliant mind already has a plan.”
MEET CUTE
Sirenna
“I trust you can take it from here,” the security guy repeats, keen to get off this floor. He hasn’t even stepped out of the elevator with me, and the look on his face when I glance over my shoulder is quite telling. Before I even get to respond, the doors of the elevator have already closed, leaving me alone in this place.
I look up at the doors, taking a deep breath. Then, slowly, I raise a hand to touch the intricate patterns carved into them, searching for a knob or a latch. Damn, I could swear the material is liquid. It seems to respond to the heat of my palm because the doors open with a smooth hum.
They reveal a space that looks more like the receiving hall of a king than the office of a nerd-slash-businessman. A pattern in the shape of DNA spirals is worked into the marble floor, a large floor-to-ceiling window to one side showing a vast green park that sprawls between this building and the city, skyscrapers visible in the distance. Buttery couches and a low table mark the visitors’ area. Surely only the creme-de-la-creme spend time here, people of Declan’s and Jax’s caliber.
My mouth is still open as my eyes drag to the large, sleek desk that presides from the far side of the room. A pretty-faced man in what appears to be the outfit of a clergyman leans against the desk, not looking very surprised to see me. If anything, it seems like he expected me, but somehow I know he isn’t Zayne Thorngren.
But when another man emerges from an adjacent room, drinks in both hands, I know instantly that this is him. And he’s nothing like I expected.
His face hits me like a hammer to my gut, leaving me breathless.
Zayne Thorngren has such beautiful blue eyes that, for a moment, my heart stutters. The tone of his skin makes me instantly think about licking it, and his jaw should be on an advertising billboard for “unattainable standards of male beauty”. His hair is so black it reveals blue highlights when he passes in front of the window, but it’s his lips I can’t look away from by the time he’s eaten up the distance between us.
God sure as fuck went to town when he made this man. His lips are perfectly sculpted, and I can see how tasting them could feel like a privilege. I can think of no better way to describe him other than “Fuck this”, “You’ve got to be shitting me”, and “I’m fucking done here”.
“Mrs. Sirenna Carter,” he greets in a voice like liquid sin. “How wonderful that you made it in time. I’d made a bet with Priest here about how long it would take for you to crawl out of the hotel you’ve been hiding in, and reach out for my help.”
Oh, wow. That was sobering. I’m not sure whether to feel offended or grateful for the bucket of ice he just dropped on me, but I’m instantly back to my senses.
He reaches me a drink, his smile not leaving his face for a single moment. “Five minutes later, and I would have had to pay up.”
My eyes flit between him and the clergyman. “Had you instructed your security to let me through, I would have been here sooner. Saved you the palpitations.”
“Oh, and deny myself the show? Oh no, Mrs. Carter. Watching that famously brilliant mind of yours in action was too much of a delight. Premium entertainment.” He winks, and those insanely blue eyes arrest my attention completely.
I absentmindedly take the drink from his hand. He looks down at it, one eyebrow arching up, giving him the look of a young devil. “I know you prefer champagne, but I figured you might need something stronger for the talk we’re about to have.”
“Sounds like you already know why I’m here.”
That smile again. It could disarm a fucking army.
“Of course, Mrs. Carter. If I didn’t know when people were planning to manipulate me, I wouldn’t be where I am. Please, have a seat.”
He motions toward one of the buttery, cream-colored sofas by the large window, light flooding in around it. His movement is fluid, his black sweater stretching over his strong arms and chest. The man is built like a freaking Michelangelo sculpture, an effect which the full black, casual outfit enhances. I lick my lips, trying to divert my thoughts from how he might look naked. It’s just that finding a man so intensely attractive is a big deal for me. I didn’t think anyone could ever catch my attention like this again, and it feels surprisingly uplifting to know I’m not dead inside after all.
Besides, there’s something beyond his looks that keeps me staring. A strange familiarity, which is crazy because if I’d met this man before I sure as hell would have remembered.
I head over to the sofa, sharply aware of my posture and the way that I walk. I’m wearing a long, thin leather trench coat instead of the jacket I initially planned to wear because I didn’t want all of his employees to see the sexy outfit underneath. But the moment I sit down, crossing my legs, the sides of the coat fall to reveal my thighs, the lace pumps on my feet enhancing the effect. Zayne’s shoulders seem to tense, but it might be just in my head, because I want to affect him. But I can’t show him that, so my eyes fly over to the clergyman.
“Oh, don’t worry, Mrs. Carter,” Zayne says, following my gaze. “Priest doesn’t really work for Jesus. He works with me. No need to feel guilty about tempting him.”
He casually takes a seat perpendicular to me on the L-shaped sofa, facing the widow. There is enough distance between us to keep me comfortable, but also to make conversation less confrontational than if we’d be sitting face to face. It’s also a way for him to judge my composure. Face to face, I’d have no choice but to stare him full in the face, have my fill of those handsome features without making a fool of myself. The same cannot be said about this angle. If I stare it’s because I can’t help it.
The same goes for Zayne, only that he doesn’t seem intimidated by the idea at all. He rests an arm over the back of the sofa, crossing one ankle elegantly over his knee and staring at me without a care in the world. Definitely not something you’d do with someone who affects you. Surely, if he felt the slightest hint of familiarity, of recognition, he would say something–wouldn’t he? I swallow hard, trying to get rid of the strange sensation, and trying to keep myself together. It’s not easy, especially with the scent that now envelops me like a crisp morning breeze tinged with citrus. It’s the scent of a man that will shatter everything in the way of his goals. World domination comes to mind as I meet that blue stare.
“So, I suppose this is about your husband having gone MIA,” he opens the discussion as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. Nothing like the socially awkward nerd I imagined him to be. This isn’t the formerly pimpled teenager I thought I could intimidate, but a fucking Adonis who saw ten moves ahead of me.
“Sad story, but I can’t say I’m very much touched by it,” he continues. “As you surely know, your husband and I are far from buddies. I am curious about one thing, though. How affected are you by his disappearance? Because if your hooking up with guys in the hotel bar is any indication, not much.”
I choke on my sip of scotch. “How do you–”
“I make a habit of keeping tabs on people who might become trouble.”
“Those hookups never went all the way.” Now why the hell did I have to point that out? It’s none of this bastard’s business. I clear my throat, putting on a straight face. “But the question is–how the fuck do you know what happened at my hotel?”
“Maybe I was a guest there.” He twirls the glass in his hand as he speaks. The corner of my mouth lifts, satisfied that I recognize at least one of his strategies. He hasn’t taken a single sip of his drink since we sat down, while I’ve taken three, if only to justify the color in my cheeks.
Besides, by the look of him, the guy really isn’t a drinker. He’s too athletic for that, yet he doesn’t look like the steroid-fed gym junkie either. The power of his body, his exquisite build, they come from excelling at a sport. Something that enlarges the shoulders and trims the waist, that muscles the thighs and makes the ass look like it’s made of concrete. It takes effort not to ask what the hell he did to look like this.
“No, you weren’t. I would know, since the hotel is mine.” And I would sure as fuck have remembered him.
His grin widens. “I have eyes and ears in all the places that matter. It’s as if I were there in person.”
My lips thin. That must be how he knew about the bar hookups–through his spies. And I only realize that now, taken as I’ve been with his looks. After all, security lets everyone into the hotel bar if they aren’t carrying a weapon or wires–we scan them at the entrance. He must also know that none of those pick-ups ever ended with a fuck. That I always landed drunk and alone in my bed, having cried my eyes out on the shoulder of some stranger frustrated that he didn’t get laid that night. Fuck, I don’t know what’s more pathetic, him knowing the truth, or him believing I’m a slut with a drinking problem.
I tilt my head to the side, mirroring him.
“Since you know it all, why am I here?”
He drags his eyes away from me for the first time, directing them to the window. The way those blue irises catch the light is out of this fucking world.
“Let’s see, there are three possible reasons at the top of my list. First, you were curious to put a face to my name, but that’s wishful thinking on my part, yes?” He gives me a beat to respond, but the moment I open my mouth, he cuts me off. “Second, you’d like me to help you find out what happened to your husband. But that doesn’t hold either, does it? In the end, you don’t give a damn about him. You never did.” Is it just me, or was there just a little bit of venom in that last statement? “Third–and most pertinent, if you ask me–is that you’re swamped with death threats. With Joseph missing, all kinds of nasty people are trying to take over his empire. With you being a woman, the competition thinks you’re easy to take down. So you decided you needed help. And who better to partner with, if not with the man your husband feared most–and who he was in direct competition with.”
He turns his face to me, while I try to keep a poker mask on.
“You know, I used to wonder what you and Joseph had in common,” I say calmly. “I mean, he runs a large drug network and you control much of the pharma industry, but that’s where the similarities end–or are supposed to, with him being in essence just a thug, and you a refined genius.” I pause for a beat. “But then, while I was busy digging up dirt on my still-husband, I came across some interesting things.” I rest the glass of scotch on my knee, my eyes pinning him down like daggers as I speak out the next words. “You seek to replace the common drugs on the streets with your own highly engineered ones. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
He holds my stare as silence falls over his large office. I become increasingly aware of Priest still hanging out by the desk, of his attention fixed on us. I wonder what his job is with Zayne, because I doubt he’s either his spiritual father or his bodyguard. There’s something menacing about the pretty boy that puts him on an equal footing with Zayne.
“Are you trying to intimidate me with the knowledge you have about my dealings, Mrs. Carter?” Zayne eventually says. His voice is still a silky caress, but one that could morph into a whip at any second. His eyes slide down my frame. “And here I was, thinking you would use some of your feminine charms in order to coax me into becoming your ally.”
“Now that you mention it, I might as well.” My voice lowers a few tones, becoming more husky and inviting. All my senses scream that I’m doing something terribly stupid right now, but I can’t help it.
I undo the buttons of my coat, flipping the sides open to reveal the skimpy black satin dress. It might be just in my head, a trick that my racing pulse is playing on me, but I think his throat tensed a little.
“Shall I take this as an offer, Mrs. Carter?”
“First of all, I’d appreciate it if you stopped calling me that. Considering all the information you already have on me, I would expect that you already know I planned on leaving Joseph before his disappearance.”
He tsks, twirling the glass in his hand a little faster, even though the rest of him remains calm.
“Indeed. One could argue that you had good reasons to disappear him yourself. After all, you’re a resourceful woman. You just talked yourself past security that even the greatest con artists would have trouble breaching. Getting rid of an unwanted husband shouldn’t be hard for someone of your skill and competence.”
The compliment sends heat to my cheeks, but I manage to mask my reaction.
“I suppose one could make that argument. But not you. You know better. After all, you kept track even of my failed hookup attempts. You’re a know-it-all god of sorts.”
The twinkle in his eye sends my heart jolting into my throat.
“Fair enough. So, for the sake of clarity, I’m going to ask you again.” He uncrosses his legs and leans forward. When his eyes move down my body again, they’re no longer just mildly curious or intrigued. It seems like he’s x-raying me, shamelessly exploring what I might look like naked. “Is this an offer?”
My entire body heats up, control slipping out of my hands. Now how the fuck do I reply to that?
***
STAY TUNED for the release coming soon! Dirty Arrangement is going live on Amazon on the 19.01.2024 – just a little over a week from now! Interested in more sneak peeks from my books, or maybe in a bit of Zayne’s POV from this one? Leave a comment and let me know.
Ana C. Blacklace 