Page 42 of Darkest Sin

Trying to make out Sergiu’s stare through the darkness, I nod while trying to figure out what the hell he wants. I kept his dirty little secret. I didn’t tell a soul about what he did, so why is he here? If he was planning on fucking me, he wouldn’t have bothered to warn me about my silence.

No, this asshole is here to talk. But why?

The weight of his hand pressing down on my split lip aches, and I immediately taste the blood in my mouth, but I do what I can to ignore the pain, determined to save my strength in case I need it.

My eyes finally adjust to the darkness, and I can just make out the too-sharp features of his face when he hesitantly lifts his hand off my mouth. I suck in a deep breath. “I don’t like you,” he states as though it was a secret.

“The feeling is mutual.”

Fury flashes in his deadly stare, and without warning, I’m torn from my bed, a tight hand locking around my throat as I’m thrown against the wall. Sergiu leans into me, and I smell the stench of his hot breath against my skin.

“Foolish girl,” he spits, keeping his tone low as my whole body violently shakes. “If you think being Killian’s little pet is enough to keep you protected, you are sorely mistaken.”

His other hand jabs against my ribs, right where his wife kicked me with her ridiculous designer heels, and I whimper under the pain, but I won’t dare succumb to this asshole. His wife has already stolen my dignity, and after his last visit to my bedroom, I won’t allow him to get the best of me again. “I am not mistaken. I have no illusion of what you could do to me. However, it seems you’re the only foolish one here tonight,” I say while struggling to take a deep breath. “It is clear your loyalty is to yourself, and if you ask me, as Killian’s second-in-command, that’s the deepest betrayal one could possibly commit in this world. But ask yourself, where do his loyalties lie? If he were to discover what you did here in this room last week or if I accidentally slipped up and gave the name of the woman who put her hands on me tonight, what would he do? Would he have your back, or mine?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spits.

I arch a brow and hold his ferocious stare. “Don’t I?”

“You even think about running that mouth of yours—”

“You’ll what?” I challenge. “If I run my mouth and tell him everything you and your bitch of a wife have done to me, you’ll both be dead before you could even think about laying another hand on me. Time to face the facts, Sergiu. You’ve put yourself in a position where your fate now lies in the palm of my hands, and the more you threaten me, the more inclined I am to . . . slip.”

Sergiu clenches his jaw, and fury flashes in his eyes. Without warning, he rears back, and in a flash, his hand slaps hard across my face. I cry out in shock as my cheek burns from the hit. “This is not a war you want to start, girl,” he spits.

“Careful now,” I warn. “You’re threatening Killian’s wife.”

His hand clenches harder around my throat, completely cutting off my airway, but I don’t falter as I hold his putrid stare. My lungs begin to scream for oxygen, and just as I start to see dark spots dancing in my vision, he releases me. I drop heavily to the ground, gasping for air.

Tears fill my eyes, and I watch as Sergiu turns on his heel and stalks out of my room, my heart racing with every step he takes. In a flash, he’s gone, and my body finally relaxes.

Holy fuck. That was stupid.

What was I thinking challenging him like that? If I allowed him to believe he could continue walking all over me, he would have never seen me as a threat. He would have believed that I was too afraid to ever open my mouth, but now . . .

I openly just threatened his and his wife’s existence, and what’s worse, I based it all on the hope that Killian would have my back—a man that I haven’t even known for two weeks—over the man who stands as his second-in-command. He grew up with Sergiu. The man is his own flesh and blood.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Grabbing the edge of my bed, I haul myself back to my feet and drop my ass onto the mattress when a soft knock sounds at my door. My back stiffens, and I desperately search the bedside table for something I can use as a weapon when the door opens and Killian strides in. “Chiara?” he asks, hovering by the door. “Everything okay? I thought I heard something in here.”

This is my chance. I can tell him everything that just went down and both Sergiu and Monica will be names I’ll never have to think of again, and yet, I can’t bring myself to open my mouth. If I talk, two people’s lives are on the line, and I don’t know if I can stomach that burden.

Feeling the weight of this decision resting on my shoulders, I force a small smile across my face, hating the concern in his dark eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell him. “Bad dream.”

Killian nods and strides further into my room before plucking the glass of water off my bedside table. He hands it to me before dropping down in front of me, his warm hands resting on my thighs. “Have some water, Angel. It will help.”

Not wanting to disappoint him, I take small sips until half the glass is gone before handing it back to him. He puts the glass back where it was, right on top of the small circle of condensation the glass had already begun to form. Only he doesn’t leave, he remains right there in front of me, his deep eyes locked onto mine. “Was it about your time at the auction house?”

My brows furrow and he goes on to clarify. “Your dream.”

“Oh, umm . . . no. Well, kind of. It was about the night I was snatched off the street. I tend to dream about that night a lot, but in hindsight, the time at the auction house was worse. If anything, you’d think those were the memories that would play on repeat every night.”

“Not necessarily. The night you were taken was the night everything changed. Your mind didn’t know it needed to be on alert, so the adrenaline and fear would have been a shock to your system. By the time you made it to the auction house, you were already aware of your surroundings, so you may have felt that same fear and adrenaline, but you were already in survival mode. While you remember those things, your unconscious mind is working overtime to block it out.”

I nod and lift my gaze to meet his. “You really think that’s true?”

“I have no reason to doubt it,” he tells me. “I have been through many unforgiving circumstances, and if the only scars you bear are those on your unconscious mind, then I consider you lucky.”

---