Page 41 of Reckless Hearts

I take a shaky breath and regain my composure as I glare at him.

“Is that on purpose, or have you just not bought the rest of the furniture yet?”

I don’tknowif Deimos had a place of his own in New York before, but I doubt it, considering he lived full-time in London. Which means he’s bought this place in the last few weeks.

His only answer to my question is a lift of his shoulder. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“You haven’t decided if you need furniture yet?”

“No. And?”

I frown. “And nothing. I mean, it’s your apartment.”

“Yes. And here you are.”

I swallow thickly, stepping away from the elevator doors as they slide closed behind me.

Deimos raises the crystal glass of what looks like whiskey in his hand, sipping it slowly as his eyes slide over me.

Burning me under his gaze.

“Would you like a drink?”

Yeah, sure, let’s add alcohol to this mix. Fantastic idea, Dahlia.

“No, thank you.”

One corner of his mouth raises. “You sure?”

“Yeah, let’s just get this over with.”

My heart is racing a million miles a minute, even if I’m trying to pretend it’s not. Because the truth is, I am very much in over my head here. I don’t know exactly what’s coming next, or what his plans for me tonight are.

But whatever they are, it’s going to involve me jumping into the deep end with no idea of how to swim.

Deimos takes another slow sip of his drink, his eyes dragging over me once more. It’s not an overtly lewd or salacious look. But there’s no mistaking the intention behind it, or ignoring the fire in his gaze.

He moves to the sofa, sitting in the middle of it and sprawling casually—one arm up on the back, and his legs spread wide. He nods with his chin to the space in front of him.

“Come here.”

Heat pools in my core while something teases up the back of my spine. It’s warm in here. Too warm. And too dim. Actually, maybe it’s the perfect amount of dim. Enough that I can hide.

But do you want to hide?

There are a hundred different conversations and conflicting arguments roaring in my head as I walk over in front of him, standing between where he’s lounging on the couch and the chair across from him. I drop my hands to my sides, then bring them to my front where they fidget together, before they move back to my sides, tapping my legs nervously.

“Well?” I blurt, glaring at him. “Now what?”

He smiles thinly. “My, my. So eager to be my whore.”

My face warms, and my lips curl back. “Inota—”

“I never said you wereawhore,” he growls quietly, interrupting me. “I said you weremywhore.”

I roll my eyes. “This isn’teagerness, trust me. I just want to get this over with. I have other things I need to do tonight.”

His eyes twitch a little. But then his lips curl into a venomous smile.

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