Page 15 of Darkness Tempt Me (Bloody Desires #7)

Chapter thirteen

Peyton

W e pull up to a large, impressive building with a shiny, sleek exterior. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. The whole building screams old money. As soon as Mavik parks the car, his fingers start up that damn drumming again.

He’s nervous. It’s a strange emotion to see on Mavik Blackwood, but I’m weirdly honored he trusts me enough to show me this side of him.

Tentatively, I reach over and grasp his right hand with mine, tangling our fingers together. Squeezing just enough to distract him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He studies our laced fingers. Another line crossed, but I refuse to take it back.

He lets out a deep sigh. “My uncle left a will before he passed. Hunter has been reading through it. He said it was an emergency, and I’m afraid he’s going to tell me that Mick left Blackwood Investments to someone else.

” He clears his throat. “Someone other than me.”

My mouth falls open with shock and outrage.

Even though Mick Blackwood was the owner before he passed, he was hardly around when I joined the company three years ago.

Not to mention, Mavik has been CEO for even longer than that.

“He can’t do that! This is your family company,” I blurt. Did that sound a little bratty?

Mavik’s lips twitch with amusement, dark eyes boring into mine.

I shake my head. No, that doesn’t even make sense. “I only met your uncle a few times, sir, but he loved you. Anyone could see that. I don’t think he’d do that to you.” There’s a steady confidence to my voice, although I can’t confirm the veracity of my words.

Placing my hand in my pocket, I pull out the wolf figurine I made for him a while ago. I was waiting for the perfect moment to give this to him, and it can’t get any better than this.

I clutch the wooden figurine in my fingers nervously before showing it to him. “A wolf symbolizes strength and power,” I say, handing it to him. “But it also symbolizes loyalty. Take it. For good luck.”

The wolf is so tiny in his palm. He runs a finger down its back, looking at it with awe. “Did you carve this for me last night?”

My head snaps up, and our eyes lock. “How did you know I carved it?” I never told him I carved things.

“I see more than you realize, Peyton,” he growls more to himself than anything.

Despite that, the rumbling sound makes me shiver, and suddenly, I’m remembering that night I performed for him in front of my glass door.

What would he do if he knew? What would he think if he knew I’d do it again?

I’d strip myself bare and hand him my heart if he’d allow it.

I clear my throat. “I-I carved it a week or two ago. But I specifically made it for you.” I’m unable to say more. It would be too damn cheesy if he knew just how fitting I think the symbolic wolf matches his character.

He smirks. “Thank you, Peyton. That means a lot to me.” He places the wooden wolf in his pocket, almost reverently, before opening the door and sliding out of the car. That earlier display of nerves is gone, no longer in sight. His CEO mask is back in place as we walk through the front door.

Mavik strides in like he owns the place, only pausing to briefly nod at the pretty woman at reception. “Mr. Blackwood. He’s waiting for you in his office.”

“Thank you, Lucy.” His long legs swallow up the distance, allowing him to move quickly. I struggle to keep pace.

We walk down a long hallway before entering another lobby. Several fancy loveseats and elegant chairs decorate the room, giving it a classy yet comfortable vibe. Light jazz music plays from overhead speakers, an interesting contrast to the two TVs showing the local news on mute.

“Make yourself comfortable and wait for me here, please.” He gestures at one of the fancy loveseats decorated with expensive-looking throw pillows. “Hopefully, this won’t take too long. If you need the restroom, it’s down the hall we just came from and the second door on the left.”

I nod. He turns his back toward me, but I reach for his hand before he can walk away. My fingers feel almost dainty wrapping around his thick wrist. He turns back with an arched brow.

“Your uncle loved you,” I repeat.

Mavik smiles.

The office door suddenly opens, and for some stupid reason, I jump back as if we were caught doing something we weren’t supposed to.

Hunter walks out with a cocky grin playing on his lips.

“Well, now. This is interesting.” His gaze bounces between Mavik and me.

“You didn’t tell me your pretty assistant would be joining us,” he says to Mavik.

He doesn’t even address me aside from a cocky smile that actually looks really damn good.

Wait, pretty? Did Hunter Rose just compliment me?

Mavik is suddenly in Hunter’s face, pushing him aside.

I gasp. Holy shit. The calm from seconds before is gone, replaced with anger.

There’s no way I’m imagining the possessive gaze he shoots my way before focusing back on his friend.

He shoves Hunter again, this time a little more violently.

“Get your filthy eyes off my assistant. I already warned you, Hunt.” The two men scuffle around, almost play wrestling, and manhandle each other until they disappear into Hunter’s office.

The door slams closed, but not before Hunter’s rich laugh fills the room.

My heart races. What the fuck was that? The image of the two handsome men shoving each other like violent alpha cavemen should not be this hot. I gasp again. This time, I reach for a throw pillow and cover up my arousal.

Thirty minutes later, I’m bored. Someone should really tell Mr. Rose that the slow coffeehouse jazz might sound nice, but it would put anyone to sleep.

Pulling out my phone for the millionth time, I try to distract myself, but the lack of messages from my brother is really starting to get to me.

Tyler has never ignored me for this long. God, I hope he’s okay.

I tap on my favorite social media app and momentarily get lost in some stupid cat reels when something on the silent TV catches my eye.

On the screen is a video of Adam Costa, a local politician who is rumored to be running for re-election as mayor of New Vernon.

He’s currently on trial after facing allegations of the rape and kidnapping of several women.

My blood runs cold. He looks so much like my abusive ex, it’s uncanny.

If it weren’t for the scar missing on his right cheek, I’d almost wonder if they were the same guy.

My heart races as I read the captions scrolling across the screen.

Confident statements of innocence tumble from his mouth as he says that all this will be cleared up soon.

The stupid TV is still on mute, but I swear I hear my ex’s voice as I read what this asshole is saying.

“He’s lying,” I say out loud, tears filling my eyes.

I fumble with my phone, but drop it when Adam stares right at the camera as if he heard me.

The blood rushes to my head, making it hard for me to hear anything around me.

I know I’m projecting, especially since he reminds me of my ex, but somehow, I know the man is guilty.

I’m vaguely aware of the door on the other side of the waiting room opening. I hear voices behind me, but don’t pay attention. A woman sits next to me, but it’s as if I’m stuck in Adam Costa’s penetrating stare. My chest begins heaving, and I feel like I can’t breathe.

“It’s absolutely awful, isn’t it?” The woman next to me says softly, snapping me out of my almost panic attack.

This would’ve been the second one, and so close together.

Years without a panic attack, and suddenly they’re back.

I blink rapidly, glancing over at my savior.

I could probably kiss the woman for stopping my spiraling thoughts in their tracks.

I nod and take a few deep breaths.

“Oh, honey,” she hovers her manicured hand over my shoulder. “May I touch you?”

Thankful, I nod again. Most people would either avoid me like the plague or touch me without consent.

She rubs soothing circles on my back as I focus on grounding myself.

My gaze accidentally tries to wander back to the TV, but she stands, blocking my view.

After a few moments that could have been hours, she walks over to the remote on the coffee table and changes the channel.

It lands on some cartoon, and it’s as if I can breathe again.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, thank you.” I shake my head before getting a good look at her.

The woman is stunning with her dark curls styled in a low bun.

She’s wearing an elegant burgundy dress that looks expensive.

Though tight, the dress complements her figure without sacrificing her classy appearance.

I can’t be quite sure, but she looks like she might be in her mid-forties.

“My name is Sophia.” She smiles and holds out her hand.

“Peyton.” I shake her hand and smile back. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Sophia. I’m going to go splash water on my face. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time, dear. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me or go out into the main lobby and ask Lucy.”

As soon as I’m in the restroom, I walk into the stall and lock it.

It’s probably really fucking stupid, but I pull out my phone and do a quick search on Adam Costa.

As soon as his photo pops up, I let out a huge sigh of relief.

Now that I’m staring at him with critical eyes, it’s obvious they aren’t the same man.

For a moment, I briefly envisioned a real-life horror film where my ex was not only released from jail and cleared of all charges, but he also magically became a wealthy politician. What a fucking nightmare that would be.

Sure, they might have a few physical similarities, but they aren’t the same person.

Maybe this Adam Costa guy didn’t actually hurt all those women.

But as I scan the articles, I highly doubt it.

It’s something about his words, his demeanor, and the look in his eye.

Call it a survivor’s intuition, but I’d bet money that this man is horrible at the core.

And of course, it appears the law may fail the real victims. Again .

I focus on the politician’s photo. If this Adam guy did half the shit they’re accusing him of, he deserves to die a horrible, painful death. And if I’m being honest, so does my abusive ex.