Page 27 of Darkest Deception

She nods but looks behind me once more before we head back inside.

Darci somehow finds his way to me, and Talia cannot hide her smile, aware of how much I hate this.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

I smile, flashing my teeth, and shrug.

He leans in, his lips brushing my ear, and whispers, “You look hot, Ambrose. I wish I could take you out of here, right now, and see how you taste.”

I shiver and hope he doesn’t notice. “Not happening. There is nothing on this finger.” I raise my left hand and wiggle my ring finger.

He laughs, shaking his head. “It will by adorned with the biggest diamond that will blind everyone in the room, and then I will get what I have been promised.”

I catch Talia making gagging notions behind him, and I have to hold in a smile.

This stupid girl.

“I haven’t promised anything,” I counter.

The event continues, and it stretches long into the night. The speeches happen, and the crowd slowly starts to disperse after dinner, despite us already having eaten. And when I finally, finally, get to step out of the venue into the cold night, rain is splattering the pavement.

“I would love to see you again, Ambrose,” Darci whispers in my ear, then places a kiss on my cheek and heads out. He looks back at me over his shoulder, a wink thrown my way before he gets in the car with his parents.

The cameras catch this. They catch every moment, and I know my face will be plastered all over the tabloids tomorrow morning.

“Good luck with the press coverage tomorrow.” With an amused smile, Talia also walks away with an elegant wave.

“Good job. I think I can now sleep peacefully tonight knowing a wedding is on the horizon,” Mum states when we are home.

She walks to her room, and I go to mine, my mind numb. The blank walls of our house seem so much taller today. Darker and haunting.

Locking my bedroom door behind me, I step out of my heels and make my way towards my bed.

My bag drops out of my hand.

I clamp my hands over my mouth to stop a scream from escaping past my lips.

Standing in all his dark glory is my stalker. He’s tall, definitely over six-foot. His hood is down, and the angry curtains thrash behind him with the wind and harsh rain from the open doors of the balcony.

The drops falling into my room make me sigh; it will be a pain cleaning it.

The wind pulls at his untamed hair, and a trail of smoke surrounds him, the burning butt of the cigarette a glow in the dark. A cold sweat breaks out on my back, and my hands tremble. There is this unhinged atmosphere to him that makes him look absolutely terrifying. I fear if he were to reach out and demand to rip out my blackened heart, he could easily reach inside my chest and tear it out.

And no one would be able to stop him.

He looks like a reaper coming to collect my soul before its time.

8

I feel sick.

My lower lip trembles while I keep my eyes from moving all over the place.

I lose my thoughts.

My fight-or-flight response leaves me frozen in place instead.

My voice doesn’t come out when I try to speak.

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