Page 20 of Darkness Tempt Me (Bloody Desires #7)

Chapter eighteen

Peyton

T he mug shatters on the floor. What the fuck is Drake doing here? And did he just introduce himself as Drake Sinclair? This is so bad. So fucking bad. Drake and Mavik’s heads whip toward me as soon as the cup crashes against the tile. Coffee and ceramic are everywhere.

“O-oh my gosh,” I stutter, trying my hardest to pull in a full breath.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” I rush over to the mini food station that I set up earlier this morning.

It houses all the pastries, napkins, and utensils.

I reach for the roll of paper towels, tearing off several before kneeling on the floor.

Mavik moves with liquid grace, easily plucking the paper towels from my grasp and helping me clean up.

Anger radiates off him, but even so, I keep my eyes focused on my boss, not letting my gaze drift over to Drake. Better the devil I know. Mavik carefully picks up the ceramic before kneeling on the floor next to me. I gasp. “Sir, your pants. They’re getting wet.”

“Hush,” he whispers under his breath, only loud enough for me to hear.

Heat floods my face as I watch Mavik’s expensive suit soak up my cheap coffee. I’m frozen in place, completely flustered, as Mavik cleans up the mess I should be cleaning myself. When he’s finished, he stands, grasping my elbow and encouraging me to stand with him.

“If you’ll excuse us, Drake. We need to clean up and change. Do you mind if we have a few minutes to ourselves?”

Finally, I gather the courage to look over at Drake and meet his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything. Just gives me a creepy look that sends a chill down my spine.

I don’t understand why he freaks me the fuck out, but he does.

The look he gives me isn’t sexual. It’s predatory.

It’s not one of those looks like he’s trying to undress me with his eyes, but rather like he wants to see what it takes to break me.

To hurt me. To peel me open and inflict pain over and over again.

Mavik places a possessive hand on the small of my back.

Drake’s gaze bounces from me to my boss. That terrifying expression melts into amusement. It’s as if he finds this whole situation entertaining. “Go on. Take your time. I’ll just enjoy a pastry if you don’t mind.”

Mavik smiles. His expression is equally terrifying.

What the fuck is going on here? I feel like the two men are in some kind of pissing contest. They’re having a silent conversation I don’t understand as Mavik’s hand wanders over to my hip, where he grips it painfully, silently guiding me out of the boardroom.

I turn left immediately, walking toward the elevator that will lead me to his penthouse. Since he needs to change, I assume it’s where we’re going. Instead, he yanks me into the nearest supply closet and turns on the dim light.

“What the hell was that?” Mavik growls, crowding me against the wall. “Do you know him?”

I blink, shocked at his possessive tone. I shove him back with my hands on his chest, but he barely moves. He presses in, my back hitting the wall again. Anger rushes through me. “What the fuck are you doing?” I snap.

Instead of getting angry, Mavik smiles, his fingers tracing my jaw. “There you are. I didn’t like the look that man put on your face.”

My lips part in shock. The coffee-soaked pants.

The manhandling to get me off the floor and out of the room.

He was trying to get me away from Drake and distract me.

Trying to make me feel angry and safe rather than scared.

I swallow hard. When did Mavik Blackwood become an expert at comforting me? “Thank you,” I say, tone soft.

He nods. “What was that all about, Pey? Do you know Drake?”

I shake my head and let out a deep breath. “No. I don’t think so. He looks familiar, but I think the first time I saw him was the day I went back to the café after my panic attack. The guy was a dick, and—” my words trail off.

Should I tell him I thought Drake was following me? But surely that was just a coincidence. I’ve been having this feeling of someone stalking me for a while now. It couldn’t be him…right?

Mavik gently tips my chin up. “And what, Pey?”

“I think he followed me here. To Blackwood Investments.” I gasp. “Wait, it was the same day Peggy called to schedule this meeting.”

I remember the way Drake placed his phone up to his ear when he left the elevator that day. Peggy called only minutes after that. My eyes bounce back up to Mavik’s. “Do you think that’s why he wanted me in the meeting? Because he’s following me?”

“Hmm.” Mavik purses his lips together. “I was wondering why you texted me just to let me know you were in the elevator.”

I nod. “I was paranoid. Some days, I feel like I’m being followed. Or watched. I wanted you to know where I was…just in case. Texting you made me feel safe.” You make me feel safe.

Mavik tips his head curiously. “How long have you had the feeling that you’re being stalked?”

“It’s recent. Maybe the past few months or so?”

“Months? Are you fucking kidding me?”

I wince. Saying it out loud sounds ridiculous.

“Peyton, if you ever feel unsafe, I want you to tell me,” he says in a stern tone. “Do you understand me?”

God, yes, Daddy. Why is this bossy, commanding tone doing it for me?

“I understand, sir.” I nod quickly, feeling a little foolish.

“Maybe it was just a coincidence. I mean, I’ve had this feeling for a while, and I never even saw him until recently.

It’s probably just me being paranoid.” I take a deep breath and admit something I’ve kept hidden from the people I know here in New Vernon.

“I used to have this ex, Jimmy Melton. H-he used to hurt me. Abuse me. One night, he was going to kill me, and I escaped,” I say, skimming over the details.

It’s been at least two years since I said Jimmy’s name out loud. “I testified against him, but he lawyered up and won the case. Apparently, there wasn’t enough evidence. I took my brother and ran.”

Mavik gathers me into his arms and kisses the top of my head. I melt into his embrace. “Thank you for telling me,” he replies. “But Jimmy Melton will never hurt you ever again.”

“You don’t know that. I’m pretty sure that if Jimmy gets the opportunity, he will come after me. He will kill me.”

“It isn’t Jimmy following you.”

I pull back, studying his face. He sounds so damn sure. My stomach drops. “You don’t believe me. You don’t think I’m being followed,” I say, voice laced with bitterness. Memories of me telling the jury, in gruesome detail, what Jimmy had done to me, only to have them act like I made it all up.

“No. I believe you, Pey. We’ll come up with a plan to make you feel safe. I’ll keep an eye out for you. Whether it’s Drake or someone else, just rest assured, it isn’t that asshole Jimmy. Trust me.”

I shake my head again. It’s such a strange thing for Mavik to say. He doesn’t know my ex or my past. So then how could he be so sure?

Whatever. At least he isn’t acting like I made it all up. It’s still odd, though, but at least he’s willing to protect me. To keep me safe.

“Okay. Thank you. But…where’s Daniel Sinclair?”

“No fucking clue.” Mavik squeezes my hand. “Now, let’s go up to the penthouse and change. Then, we can go see why this piece-of-shit’s father stood us up. Again .”

It takes about thirty-five minutes for us to go through the business proposition Mavik has laid out for the Sinclair Group.

Thirty-five minutes of me squirming uncomfortably in my chair, while Drake gives me the fucking ick .

Thirty-five minutes of me trying not to gasp every time Mavik opens his fucking mouth and tries to sell a part of his soul to the devil.

What the hell is Mavik thinking? This was not part of the material we’d gone over.

“As you can see, my offer is a very generous one. The Sinclair Group stands to gain a lot from my company, as detailed in the proposal. Now that I’ve inherited a huge chunk of stock from my late uncle, I feel like now is the time to expand the business.

Make a true partnership.” Mavik places his hand on top of the manila file folder and slides it across the table to Drake.

I jerk back as Mavik’s words sink into my head. He inherited a huge chunk of the company’s stock? How? Doesn’t he need to marry someone in order to get them? My heart sinks. Did he find someone else? Maybe he’s already entered some weird-ass marriage contract.

No. There’s no fucking way. I kick his shin under the table, but Mavik doesn’t flinch.

Drake shakes his head in awe. “I’m still trying to figure out what the catch is.”

“No catch.” Mavik stands, the fingers of one hand reaching to fasten the button of his suit jacket with practiced grace.

He seems so cool and collected. He’s so self-assured, it’s scary.

“The Sinclair Group is a respected investment company, just like Blackwood Investments. Imagine all the good we could do together.”

Drake nods eagerly, only seeing the dollar signs. “I think my father will be impressed with this proposition. Where do I sign?”

“Ah, well,” Mavik says in a sweet, almost bored voice.

“The thing is, I will only accept a signature from your father. Once I meet with him and go over my proposal, then we can have our lawyer draw up the contract for us. Since we have the same lawyer, I can trust that Mr. Rose will take good care of us.”

The smile drops from Drake’s face. “My father trusts me to make executive decisions. This is simply too good an opportunity for us to pass up. He won’t be mad at me for taking things into my own hands.”