Page 42 of The Hellkeeper

Is he still a hitman? I don’t know. But that doesn’t change the fact that he was, at some point. Not by his own free will, but still. What is my life turning into?

It was simpler in my small village, where even if there was a villain, everyone knew to stay away. The villain was dangerous. Unlovable.

Here?

I’m falling in love with the villain. A man with blood on his hands. A man who stalks me, suffocates me, worships me. The same man who handed me his credit card with a smirk and said,Shop until you drop, little flower. And if you do, I’ll carry you home.

The worst part?I can’t resist anymore.

Damien is withering away every sense of reason telling me this is wrong. That I’ll end up hurt. That I should run while I still can. Instead, I’m standing in the middle of a boutique where a single dress costs more than my paycheck. I’m trying on luxury, slipping into indulgence, sinking into a world I don’t belong to; but one Damien is dragging me into, whether I like it or not.

“Oh.”

The sound is thick with condescension, and it comes from the same woman I met that day at the restaurant. She was bad then, she’s worse now.

She looks so perfect it makes me want to throw something at her. But she’s sneering at me like she’s waiting for me to explain myself, as if I need permission to be here.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she mutters.

I give her the same once-over. “Neither did I.”

She smiles, the kind of smile people sharpen their knives behind. “Shopping here? You must’ve taken a wrong turn. Or are you just… browsing?”

“Why? You work here?”

Putting people down isn’t my thing, and I thought it would never be my thing. Yet here I am, matching her energy.

Her lips press together like she didn’t expect I’d fire back at her.

“I’m Linda,” she hisses, like giving me her name is a privilege I should bask in.

“Amelia,” I whisper. Damn me, I really struggle with assertiveness. “Nice to meet you, Linda.”

“So, Amelia,” she purrs, eyeing the dresses in my hand, “who’s paying for all this?”

Everything clicks. No woman is this cruel to another unless it’s about a man. My hunch? This girl has her eyes set on Damien. Nothing else would make sense. I was polite to her that day at the restaurant, sweet, even. This hatred, this viciousness, it has to be because she thinks I’m trampling over something that belongs to her.

I keep my face impassive. “Who do you think?”

“Sweetheart, I think we both know exactly what he’s doing.”

Fire licks at my veins. “Do we?”

“Damien,” she says, testing my reaction. “He gets bored easily, you know. Boys will be boys. He’s playing with you now, but eventually, he’ll come back to where he belongs.”

Inside, something tightens. It tightens and tightens and tightens until I feel like I need to gasp for air. I hate that for a split second, doubt curls in my stomach. But I don’t let it show.

“If that’s true, why are you here, Linda?”

She gapes at me.

“If Damien always comes back to you, why are you chasing me down?” I let out a laugh, though this crap isn’t comical at all.

“You sure seem awfully worried about me.”

“Maybe,” I continue, “it’s because while you’re here trying to get under my skin, Damien has been busy—taking me to dinner, buying me gifts, wrapping his hands around me—” I stop myself with a small, amused hum, like I’ve just remembered where we are. “Oops. Never mind.”

I’ve never been—dare I say—a bitch. Yet here I am...

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