Page 6 of A Love So Deadly (Kissed by Darkness #1)

Chapter

Five

Elliot

L ucian Vale makes me jump, again causing me to drop the pile of mail I had in my hands. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to someone so silent on their feet.

He says something but my ears are roaring, and I don’t clock the words.

I push a hand to my chest. He didn’t give me a dress code, and after so many strange dreams last night, dreams that bordered on X-rated sex, I decided a long-sleeved light sweater top in red and black pants were the way to go.

Covered from throat to ankle with flats on my feet and my hair pinned back should be making me more relaxed, feeling…

safer, except I can still feel the burn of his hand on my thigh.

The worst thing about that? I don’t even know if I dreamt his hand or if it really did happen.

That’s messed up.

He wasn’t here at three-thirty-five when I came in to learn the ropes from his pregnant assistant who made it clear she wanted her job back.

I came early not because I’m desperate to make a good impression, but to hopefully snoop and pump Emily for information. But I quickly realize I shouldn’t.

She’s not hostile. She’s sweet, even letting me know the job I hold is only temporary, but she’s also strangely loyal to Lucian and even benign questions like ones about his love life are met in the same blasé way. She brushes me off with a smile and just says, “Mr. Vale is Mr. Vale.”

Maybe she signed some sort of NDA.

Maybe she’s in love with him.

Or maybe she’s been brain scrambled by the same pod-person drink Kayla clearly drank…

I have no idea.

But I’m glad I came early, gladder still he didn’t arrive at four because I got an alert on my phone when Emily left.

Josh Hutton’s dead. Killed it seems while conducting an investigation into Anton Baroni, an ugly crime boss who’s known for wiping out any threat to his business. Only this had backfired.

For now.

Baroni’s made of Teflon, so no doubt he’ll get away with it.

His apartment was a bloodbath. An attempt, the VMR news alert said, to make it look like someone else committed the crime.

With each alert, that sentiment is echoed across print and other news media outlets.

I knew Josh. I went on a date with him a number of years ago, and he was the one I always passed information to that I thought might make a good story.

I did that on everything except Kayla and my hate of VMR.

But the punch of his death, his murder, makes my throat swell and eyes itch, so I blame the that for why I don’t hear Lucian or sense him approach. And why I jump when he speaks.

This time, he repeats himself.

“You got here early today.”

I almost look around for the cameras, but I stop myself. Instead, I pick up the scattered envelopes on his desk and clutch it tight against my breasts. I stare up at him.

He takes the air from the room. Makes the thud of my heart in my chest take on a different beat.

“You scared me.”

I know he’s got a sense of humor, dark and odd, and dry. But he doesn’t smile, those intense dark eyes moving over me, lingering on the mail like he can see my breasts.

He says softly, “If I scare you by walking into my office then we have a problem.”

“Why? Are you going to eat me like the big, bad wolf?”

“Isn’t that what big bad wolves do? Eat those who don’t take threats seriously enough?” He shrugs and approaches. His suit is charcoal, three pieces, and with a tie so fine and the darkest blue that I’m utterly convinced it’s bespoke. In contrast, the shirt is snow white.

His cufflinks are black diamond.

And even though the shock and grief of Josh’s death is still inside, I want to drool.

Lucian has the power to block out everything and fill it with him.

“That’s exactly what it is.” He runs a pale, long, elegant finger along the edge of the envelope sticking up so he’s not touching me. He’s not even close to brushing me, yet a streak of heat moves over my flesh and flares and my breath strangles in my throat.

“What is?”

“Being the big bad wolf. You eat up the weak and the stupid.”

He plucks out the envelope, moves to behind his desk, and I turn. It’s like I need to keep him in my line of vision. It’s like I can’t get enough.

Lucian selects a silver letter opener and slices the thick paper of the envelope open, pulling out a letter that he scans. There’s also an ornate card inside that he doesn’t remove. He folds the letter and puts it back in the thick envelope.

Then he pushes it to me. “Leave my mail. RSVP this with a yes.”

I don’t dare look at it now, but I nod. “Anything else?”

“You can leave my mail.”

I’m still hugging it to me like its sacred, so I carefully put it down and push the haphazard pile into something resembling neatness. And then I turn to leave.

“Miss Montague?”

“Yes?” Slowly, I pivot back.

The envelopes are now stacked so neatly I stare at them. My back was turned about a second. How did he?—

His eyes catch mine and the thought fades.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, picking up the next envelope and slicing it open with the same neat and precise movement.

“No…I…I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask if you were fine. I asked if something was wrong. I saw it when I came in. Your distress.”

I get the strangest feeling the word saw wasn’t his first choice. After all, my back was to him then. But I dismiss it. “Nothing. I found out someone I knew was killed. That’s all. We weren’t close. I’m sorry. I’ll keep personal business away from here.”

He gets up and comes around his desk. “Who was your friend?”

The question is so oddly put that I lie. It’s smooth and I’m not even sure where it comes from. “Someone I went to school with. She died in an accident.”

He doesn’t push it, but those eyes seem to be trying to find a way in. He’s close, so close that I’m surprised I can even speak.

“I’m sorry.”

There’s sincerity in the words, the kind we save for those who might need meaningless comfort, and I think you can have sincerity in meaningless comfort. Everyone’s lost someone, after all.

He touches me. My hair. He touches my hair, smoothing back a stray strand, and like that dream touch that sears on my leg, it burns across my scalp like he’s touching skin to skin.

My breath stutters, the heat in me flares. My insides throb and beat with a need I don’t understand.

“How’s your finger?” he asks.

“My…finger?” The moment the words tumble out, my finger throbs like it’s in his mouth. I cut it, but it’s mostly healed, and he licked up the blood and sucked it and then?—

I blink. I was thinking something…about my finger?

“Your finger.” He takes my hand and lifts it, cool fingers passing light over my palm as he runs his fingers against my life line, and then he turns it, examining the throbbing finger. “You got a paper cut on it yesterday. Don’t you remember?”

I don’t.

Wait, I do. I know something happened. And when he touches me, I’m electric and alive and he might be the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.

I want his mouth on my neck.

Biting me.

Hard.

“You…you licked my blood.”

He goes still. His eyes get so black I could fall into them and find the stars. “You remember that?”

“I think so.”

He nods and leans in closer. “Tell me about your friend who died.”

I bite down on my tongue, hard, and the pain makes the fog settling clear. “It was an accident. Why are you asking?”

Lucian steps back and circles me. “Just interested. Sometimes it’s good to share.”

“I should get back.” But somehow, I can’t get my legs to make that trip across the room and out the door.

“The RSVP can wait. My appointments are sorted already. Consider this week all about you getting to know the place, the job. Me.” He sits on that black sofa and gestures at the seat opposite. “We can start with the last part now. Drink?”

I’m up so I head to his bar. There are fancy glass bottles of imported water, and I reach for one, but decide to get him a drink, too.

There’s a decanter with rich red wine or port or something thick but no doubt alcoholic inside. He may be my boss, but I should try and win points, get him a drink.

Lucian’s suggestion of sitting down to talk about him—fucking self-interested man move if ever there was one—is one I don’t mind it because I can use it to learn more about him and even more about this place.

I can’t ask him about Kayla, not outright, but I can put in groundwork.

Last night I meant to google the shit out of him, but I didn’t. Instead, I spent time researching what my job might actually entail because after meeting Lucian, after seeing the office and his weird starting times, it didn’t sound like an office job belonging to a receptionist or office assistant.

It sounded like a right-hand man job for a celebrity.

It sounded…weird.

But I’m in and that’s all that matters. I reach for the decanter.

Lucian’s suddenly there, his hand on my wrist, stopping me. My heart tips hard and our gazes lock. Everything faded to his searing touch on me. It’s tight, a manacle and the most seductive, softest stroke along my senses I can imagine.

His mouth is so beautiful…

“I’m not thirsty. Not for that,” he murmurs.

“What are you thirsty for?”

I flicker my gaze up, and his shifts down, his meaning reverberating through me.

“You.”

I can’t move. I can’t think. All I want is his mouth on mine.

He leans in close. So fucking close I can almost taste him, and he smells decadent, like melting dark chocolate and incense, wood and smoke. He smells like sin, compelling, and I tilt my head back.

His breath feathers over my lips, and my eyes flutter shut as he closes that gap between us. His lips whisper over mine.

And I’m ready…