Page 81 of The Darkness is Calling

She lifts her hands in surrender.

“I won’t. But at least tell me if I’m on the right track.”

This woman must have been a spy in her past life, because she has a magnificent gift for extracting information from you even if you are dead.

“Yes,” I confess shortly, rolling my eyes.

Her face turns into a beam of light and enthusiasm.

“I’m already starting to create scenarios.”

“Don’t.”

“But, off the record, I can say your story is getting more and more exciting.”

“Exciting?” I’m stunned. “It’s a true nightmare.”

“At least you’re not bored like me, alone and sick of men who only want to fuck me. Or who tell me they’re divorced, and then to find out they have happy families at home and pregnant wives…

I give her a sympathetic look, because she has told me every time what she goes through with the men she meets.

“At least you have peace, and your life isn’t in danger.”

“You’re absolutely right,” she concludes immediately.

I agree, then lean toward the open laptop on the little table in front of us so we can return to our work between other topics worthy of two girls like us.

Meaning gossip. Innocent, but entertaining.

I spend few more hours at the gallery, until Dimitri drives me back to the villa.

As soon as I enter the house, Artem appears from his office.

He is alone and looks impeccable, as always, in his entirely black suit and with that piercing, dangerous gaze that defines him.

Without saying a word, only through the position of his body and those fascinating eyes, he calls me.

And I, weak creature that I am when it comes to him, move forward without hesitation.

I take only a few steps before he decides to meet me halfway, as if he no longer has the patience to touch me. He catches my throat in his hand, and I never know if he does it to strangle me or only to feel my pulse. What I do know is that the strong, possessive gesture arouses me every time, especially when he presses his lips to mine in a hungry kiss.

Behind me, I hear Dimitri’s footsteps as he makes himself disappear as subtly as possible.

“Let him,” Artem says when he sees me distracted.

“I didn’t know if it was okay for him to see us...”

“I have no intention of hiding, Ekaterina,” he tells me firmly.

“Of hiding what, exactly? We can’t be together, Artem...”

His mouth tightens, then laces his fingers with mine and leads me toward the office.

It’s the first time I’m in this room. It’s the same style as the rest of the house, with classic black furniture and gray walls, on which there is a single large painting. I cannot guarantee it from this distance, but I suspect it’s a real Picasso.

There is a scent of tobacco in the air, unlike anywhere else in the house, which makes me think this is the only place where they smoke.

“And why, exactly, can’t we be together?” he asks patiently and calm, and when he closes the office door, he releases my hand.