Page 72 of A Deal in Darkness
“Try again, Adi.”
“Relaxed. Unusually relaxed.” Our eyes meet in the mirror again. “I feel refreshed. And it doesn't hurt. It’s surprising.” I stare at the floor, certain he'll make me finish my thought. “Last night felt good and I'm okay with it. I think, maybe, I'd like to do it again.”
He lowers his head to the bottom of my neck and nibbles on my skin. I moan and enjoy the sensation as pain and pleasure blend.
“I'm slightly disappointed.”
Enzo stops and our eyes meet once more. His are full of darkness and power, fire and fury. The gold flecks shine and I've come to realize that means his dominance is asserting itself. His silence isn't comforting and I turn, sure I'm in trouble.
“I thought it would leave a mark. I'd assumed it...” I dance my weight between my legs. “I guess I’m a little disappointed there isn't one. I sort of wanted there to be one. That's all.”
His fingers trail down my back and he grins wickedly. Enzo doesn't have a single pure thought occupying his mind and his cock jerks, bouncing off my stomach.
“My perfect fuck toy wants to be marked. Next time, I'll leave a mark you'll admire for days, sweet girl.”
He kisses me, lifting me so my legs wrap around his waist. I press into him and meet his need, darting my tongue into his mouth. Enzo carries me to the shower, kissing me like he can't get enough and the heat makes my body burn. In an instant, he changes from rough and dominant to soft and caring, carefullywashing me as if I'm fragile. As if I might break if he put one finger wrong. Like I'm precious.
Enzo kisses me again, gently. It's as hot as the rough, dominant kiss earlier, but the heat is different. This is intimate and close, passionate but easy, and it elicits a sound I've never heard myself make.
We dress and I adjust my clothes, racing to meet Enzo at the front door. He helps me into my coat, walks me to the car, but today he doesn't join me. Instead, he leans in and stares down at me like he's on the verge of breaking.
“You're mine, Adi. Don't forget who owns you.”
He closes the door and the driver pulls away, leaving me to enjoy some time alone. I needed the space and as the buildings of London merge into blurs of color as we pass them; I realize that this is a reward.
I'm being gifted time alone because Enzo decided I earned it.
He's got me caught between reward and punishment, picking whichever one is most likely to get him what he wants. He'll praise me to encourage me, and demean me, to rile me—and the harsh, uncomfortable truth is that I like it.
I don't know what I'm doing, but I know that this is fun and I don't want it to end. The rational part of me can't stand this, but every other bit of me wants more. I should run away from Enzo and instead I want to run toward him.
He's danger and darkness and I can't get enough. He's a drug I get high off and a habit I don't want to shake. He's made me fall for him and I haven't even noticed it until now.
I walk into work in a trance and open my emails, working through an inbox filled with tedious jobs. A few new authorshave approached me with their books, and I sort their books into outright rejections and ones that are promising. But the book I was sent yesterday still holds my attention, and by lunchtime, I've read half of it and I don't want to put it down.
“You like that one?”
Emily stands in the doorway and the temperature in the room drops. I shudder and I’m aware of the ice-cold lick that’s running over my body. She’s doing no more than looking at me, but she might as well be spitting venom at me.
It’s like someone just walked over my grave.
I’m on edge.
I’m shaking.
I’m clinging to my goddamn desk.
I force a smile and try to face whatever this is with an ounce of courage, aware I’ve got little choice. Emily’s smiling sweetly, but there’s nothing pleasant about the atmosphere she’s creating, and the sooner this is over, the better.
“I think it’s pretty good. I’m interested enough to want to get to the end.” I break my gaze to stare at the open document on my computer, grabbing a moment’s relief from Emily. “It’ll need a bit of editing, but it’s got potential to be great if it stays this good.”
“How great?” she asks, pointedly.
“Maybe a bestseller great, if the marketing’s done right.”
The smile that breaks over her face isn’t kind. It’s full of intrigue and interest in a vicious, calculating way. It’s the smile a tiger flashes you before it mauls you to pieces and if Emily’s a shark, she’s caught the taste of blood in the water.
“Tell me about it over lunch,” she says.
