Page 3 of Dark Deviant

Holy hell, was that thing really inside of me?

My knees lock together because I really want it to be inside of me again.

I lick my lips without thinking and he must see because his full lips curl into a mischievous smirk.

“You’ll probably need this for your meeting,” he says, tossing it to me.

The phone is like a hot potato in my hands and I almost drop it twice before I finally stuff it into my handbag. With a flip of my hair, I force a smile.

“Thank you for last night. I hope that your, ah, business thing works out for you.”

His expression darkens. “It will. It always does. Justice and death, remember?”

A chill whispers against my skin. I had a one-night stand with some random guy who does not only sexually deviant things, but criminal ones, too. It’s not at all what I bargained for when I fell into his lap but makes me all the more anxious to get the hell out of this room before he swings his net around and captures me before I have a chance to escape.

I back away from the bed, turn, and jog toward the door. I undo all of the locks and deadbolts, pull it open, and dart into the hallway. When the door slams shut, I turn around and collapse against it, holding a hand to my chest.

What a freaking night.

I give my head a quick shake and walk quickly toward the elevator. My phone buzzes again. I unzip my bag and pull it out. With a roll of my eyes, I stab the Accept button.

“Hadeon, do you know what time it is? What the heck could you possibly—?”

“Rysa.”

His foreboding tone causes a chill to lick at the hairs on the back of my neck. My lips part but my mind is afraid to send the words to the tip of my tongue.

“You need to get home right away.Tatowas shot last night.” Hadeon’s normally strong and self-assured voice cracks, just like my heart does. “He’s dead.”

* * *

EIGHT WEEKS LATER

Tears spring to my eyes.

As if this past year hasn’t been a total and complete shit show of the most epic proportions imaginable. The loss and heartache of losing my father, the unraveling of his legacy and mafia empire, my dreams of becoming a concert pianist crushed by Juilliard’s rejection, and nowthis.

I hold up the pregnancy test, staring hard at the prominent pink line, willing it to turn back to white.

It doesn’t.

I’m pregnant.

Fuuuuuck.

Chapter2

Danil

TWO-AND-A-HALF YEARS LATER

Itug at the collar of my starched white tuxedo shirt. My windpipe tightens to the point where I can barely squeeze out a breath, swelling like I’ve just chomped on a handful of peanuts.

It’s ironic that as a kid, I always figured I’d keel over from a deathly allergic reaction to peanuts and tree nuts. As an adult, it became damn clear that they could never compete with the laundry list of enemies who are on the hunt to kill me.

And death at their hands can’t be prevented by an EpiPen.

I pull off my black bow tie and stuff it into my pocket. Then I pop open the top button of my shirt to allow air to fill my lungs.

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