Page 2 of Darkest Deception

He has the deepest emerald-green eyes I have ever seen. A faint scar runs down his left eyebrow to his eyelid, and the sharpness around his features gives him a distinct serpentine aspect.

Something about the darkness within the office and his ability to stop me in my tracks, to have my heart thumping loud enough to be drumming in my ears, has me in a chokehold. His jet-black locks of hair fall into his eyes and yet it looks neat, intentional, enhancing his predatory look.

There is a twisted smirk on his lips, lips that taunt.

“Who are you?” My voice is steady, despite how I feel under the attention of those snake eyes.

Nothing about him seems normal. Not his wicked smirk, his dark eyes, and certainly not the fluid way he moves as he walks around the table. His intense gaze has me captivated, unable to escape the trap he has put me in, no matter how hard I force myself to look away from his eyes. The wicked look in them almost has me stepping back in fear he may pounce on me to destroy me, to eat me alive.

My fingers tighten around the piece of paper in my hand. The crinkle sounds too loud in the quiet office.

“Miss Ambrose Torre.”

My name drips like poison from his lips. A sweet poison that makes me swallow hard. It jerks at my stomach, like he is holding my heart and twisting the organ until pain pierces my chest at just the mention of my name.

“I have been waiting for you. Did you receive my gift?”

Crossing my arms, I keep my eyes levelled with his. I won’t let him intimidate me, no matter the intensity with which he looks at me. I have a feeling that few people can look him in the eyes.

“So you sent me this joke? Do you know who you sent this letter to?” I scrunch the paper into a ball and throw it at his face.

He closes his eyes, inhales, then slowly opens them, fixing his cold gaze on me.

The atmosphere shifts in the room. Those calm, dark emerald eyes turn cruel, and within an instant, his face is right in front of mine. My heart leaps.

I almost take a step back. Almost.

The smell of gardenia and dark musk wafts across my face, then curls around me like a snake suffocating its prey. I can only focus on his green eyes. That scar around his left eye taking my focus for a second. He looks the epitome of a venomous serpent.

His eyes drag over me, analysing me, searching for something, a predator studying the vulnerabilities of its prey.

I truly believe there is something sinful and immoral under that cold smirk. I also know he is one of those people who could easily walk someone to their own demise.

“Keep your attitude in check, Ms Torre. Especially since I’m the person who has the ability to blacklist you from every and any company in not only London but the whole of the United goddamn Kingdom.”

My spine straightens.

“How dare you threaten me like this? This office you are standing in? It’s mine. This whole building is mine, and I will be damned if I let someone like you talk to me like this,” I grit out, taking a step away from him, keeping my distance.

The audacity of this man to think he can control and command me like this…

“You have no idea what territory you are walking into,” I bite out, barely clinging to the calm tone I need.

The man lets out a humourless laugh, and it feels wrong. Like I shouldn’t be the one talking to him like this. I don’t know him, and I sure as hell don’t know what he wants from me or why he’s here. Why is he so hell-bent on getting me to leave?

“Oh, this is going to be fun. I’m going to love watching you come crawling back to beg me to grant you a position within your own company. Go do your homework before you come barging in like this with such a disgusting, entitled attitude, little girl.”

My mouth drops open with an inaudible gasp.

I take a step back from him as I look around the office, but nothing is out of place. Everything is as it always has been. So what changed?

What is he implying?

Papers fly in my direction. About ten of them land at my feet, covering my heels. The man turns, then strides around the desk. He sinks into the large leather chair and leans back, his watchful eyes on me. Hate slowly fills those cold, dark green eyes, like water poisoned by black ink.

“How dare you throw—”

“Are you raising your voice at me?” He lifts a mocking brow.

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