Page 16 of His Dark Pull

His voice, a low, familiar rumble, breaks through thesound of the rain.“Get in,”he commands, his tone brooking no argument.

“I’m not getting in a car with you, Alexander,”I retort, my voice threaded with a defiance I don’t entirely feel. The memory of his sudden departure, the years of silence and unanswered questions, still stings, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

“Yes, you are,”he counters, his voice firm but gentle. “It’s raining, and you’ll get sick.”

“Viruses make you sick, Alexander, not the rain,”I snap, my frustration bubblingover. I continue walking, my pace quickening, but my defiance is short-lived. My heel catches in a crack in the pavement, snapping with a sickening crack.

“Shit,”I mutter, feeling tears pricking at my eyes.

Alexander steps out of the car, his tall frame shielding me from the rain. He holds out his hand. I hesitate momentarily, then reluctantly take it, allowing him to help me into the car.

The interior is warm,the leather seats smellingof his cologne,a musky, intoxicating scent that triggers the hairs on the back of my neck to stand at attention.As I settle into the seat, I notice another man in the front passenger seat, a burly figure with a shaved head.

Alexander’s eyes lock onto mine for a fleeting moment before he leans forward to speak to the man next to the driver.

“The canvas is ready,”he says, his voice low and even.

The man nods curtly. “Understood.”

I frown, a chill snaking down my spine. “Canvas is ready?”I repeat, the phrase echoing in my mind. It sounds like something an artist would say, but there’s a strange undercurrent to it that makes me uneasy.

Alexander’s gaze flickers to mine, a fleeting moment of something unreadable in his eyes before he turns back to the road. “Don’t worry about it,”he says dismissively. “Just business.”

The bald manturns to lookat me, his gaze cold and assessing, before turning back to face the windshield. Before I can ask who he is, he opens the door and exits the car, disappearing into the rain-soaked streets without a word.

Alexander slides into the seat beside me.

“Having a good evening?”he asks, his voice deep and smooth, like velvet against my raw nerves.

I shake my head, shivering from the cold. “Just trying to get home,”I mumble, wrapping my arms around myself in a futile attempt to ward off the chill.

He nods, his eyes flicking down to my soaked clothes. “Take them off,”he instructs, his voice deep and commanding.

I hesitate, unsure of his intentions, but the discomfort of my wet clothes outweighs my apprehension. I reach for the buttons of my coat, shrugging it off and letting it fall onto the plush carpet of the car floor. As I do, I notice the bruises on his hands, the knuckles scraped and swollen.

“What happened?”I ask, reaching out to touch the wounds.

He pulls his hand away, his gaze turning back to the road. “Nothing,”he mumbles. “Just a little disagreement with some business associates.”

I nod, not wanting to push him further.

He’d done it. He had beaten up Cole, but how did he know?

He takes off his coat and drapes it over my shoulders. His hand brushes against my exposed skin, jolting me. A warm feeling spreads between my legs, and I curse myself for the involuntary reaction.

“Who was the man that left the car?”I ask, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

“No one,”Alexander replies dismissively. “Just a friend.”

“Will you ever be honest with me?”I say, tightening my jaw. “Will you ever answer any of my questions?”

He turns to me, his brows furrowed, his shoulders tense. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Ava,”he says.

“Did you do it?”I press, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Did you beat up Cole?”

A flicker crosses his face, quickly replaced by a mask of indifference. “I don’t beat anyone up, Ava,”he says, his voice flat. “I teach people valuable life lessons.”

“How did you know?”I ask, my suspicion growing. “Are you spying on me?”

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