Page 10 of Darkest Deception

My eyes trail from her white-painted toes up her long legs wrapped in black tights up to her very sheer top where her breasts are being held captive with a black bra held up by thin straps. A tease. Her body is a fucking tease. The moment my gaze falls back on her piercing eyes, I can’t help the mental image of her stripping for me.

The desire in me doesn’t dim the hate or disgust I feel toward her, but it’s there, and it cannot be ignored.

“Were you possibly here to negotiate terms to outsmart me?” I take a step closer to her.

She doesn’t move a single muscle in her body. Instead, she remains hyper-focused on me.

“No. But even if I were, that is none of your business.” She huffs, turning her head away from me as if I am a measly little intern working under her. Like I am not even worth her goddamn precious time.

“Sure is when you are my employee and coming here to guilt trip your sister into getting you the company back.”

She swallows, the pale skin on her neck glistening under the warm yellow porch light.

I take another step closer to her.

Her lips tighten, and her shoulders tense.

The smirk on my face widens.

“Don’t assume things, Mr Nashwood.” She sharply turns her head, and her hair almost slaps me across the face. Her face is mere inches from mine. Her dark peony perfume surrounds me, and I briefly wonder if she will bleed as dark as her personality.

Will she bleed a deep maroon? Or will she bleed bright red? The throbbing on the side of her smooth neck is such a tease.

When I look up at her eyes, I know she noticed my glance at her lips. Her hitched breath proves it.

What is shocking is that there is no tremble in her body. She looks rock solid. A stone wall that withstands even the most ferocious disasters, maybe even chipping but never breaking.

“Never said it was an assumption. If you think talking to Aurora or Remo will help you, then you’d better think again. It will be of no help. It’s better if you walk away right now and save yourself the embarrassment.”

Her lips tighten at my words, then she strides forward, shoving my shoulder.

Grabbing her hand, I twist it behind her back. She gasps.

She shuffles, twists, then groans, trying to escape my hold. I keep her in place, her cold skin making me hiss softly. How much icier can she get?

This is the first time I’ve touched her, and it feels fucking electric. My skin burns with the need to let her go. I shouldn’t be touching filth like her.

“Stop it,” I grit out.

She thrashes harder in my hold.

This minx.

“Let me fucking go! How dare you touch me like this?” She digs her sharp nails into my wrist.

I have to hold in a groan. Warmth spreads across my wrist, and alarm bells ring in my mind. She has made me bleed.

“Stop thrashing in my hold, or—”

“Or what?” She turns her head towards me, heaving. “Or fucking what? What will you do? You already took everything! So I would like to see you try to do something else to me!”

My heart rate spikes. She isn’t afraid of me, and it makes me want to push her, to go to extreme lengths to make it happen.

She keeps fighting, and I hate it.

I whip her around and pin to the wall right under the porch lamp. My hand around her neck is tight enough to warn but not enough to cut off her oxygen. My hand flexes on her slim, translucent neck, my eyes on the throbbing vein on the side.

“God, you make me want to snuff this fire out of you. I want to see these eyes empty of life.”

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