Page 23 of Darkest Deception

“Why wouldn’t you, Ambrose? You let Glamorous slip between your fingers, and now we need a different way to keep us afloat. You couldn’t do it, and you’ve almost cost us everything in the two months I was gone, so now let me handle this.” She walks past me and breezes through the front door of our house.

I follow, my glittering gold dress trailing behind me. It has long sleeves and dips low on my chest, showing a hint of cleavage. I’ve paired it with my diamond necklace and earrings, my white Louboutins, and a thin anklet.

“How are you finding this dinner?” Darci mutters in my ear, his cold breath fanning my neck.

I lean away and sip my water as I try to smile. God, I hate this.

“Why?” I drawl, looking at him.

He smiles.

It’s a charming smile. He could be the epitome of class and money, with his million-pound watch, designer suit, and slicked hairstyle.

“If you weren’t enjoying it, I’d have to try harder to keep you entertained, wouldn’t I?”

I don’t understand what he means until he drops his hand on my thigh under the table. I freeze.

My eyes sharpen in warning, and my grip on my glass tightens. I want to throw the drink in his face. I glance at Mum. She has noticed, but there is that look in her eyes that tells me to not fuck it up and just deal with it. Darci’s parents in front of me are completely captivated by Mum’s conversation.

I can’t do this.

Why the fuck is he touching me like he has any right?

I wrap my fingers around his, then rip them off my thigh and throw his hand back to him. He raises his brows.

“You touch me like that again, Darci, and you won’t have a chance at passing on your DNA.”

For a second, I think he takes my threat seriously. Then he bursts out laughing.

“You are a fierce one.”

Yet men like Darci cannot handle a fierce woman when she keeps that independence. They complain about not having a compliant partner and try to smother her spirit.

Something tickles along my spine, then travels up my neck. The heat and intensity of it makes me sit up straighter. The chatter around me fades into a murmur as I realise it’s that same feeling I get when I am in my room near the balcony.

At night.

When my stalker is around.

He’s here.

He’s in this restaurant.

Awareness blossoms inside of me, and fear slithers around my heart in tight, painful bands. I press a hand to my chest and slowly turn around, scanning the restaurant. Nothing stands out.

Until my eyes fall on the figure sitting leaned back, legs spread wide, and the long legs out in front of him in a booth at the far back corner of the dimly lit restaurant.

The hoodie, the outfit, and figure. All of it is the same.

His hood is covering his head and face, but I can tell his eyes are on me. Fear chokes me, clamping around my throat with its sharp claws. He looks like he wants to murder someone. The glare is apparent even if I can’t see his facial features.

My phone pings, and my fear spikes.

With shaky fingers, I take my phone out of my bag and wake up the screen.

Unknown: He touches you again, and he will meet a cruel fate by my hands

A different kind of rush goes through my body. This is the first time my stalker has contacted me through text message. And it’s to threaten a man who was disrespectfully touching me.

---