Page 2 of Lord of the Dark (Drawn into Darkness #1)

Fiona Robertson

A few weeks earlier

The sun blinded me as I stepped through the glass doors of Pierce I’d give him that.

But tonight, there was a tension in him.

His shoulders held a slight stiffness, and his smile when he noticed me didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Something was weighing on him—that much was obvious, even as he tried to mask it.

"Fiona," he greeted me warmly, rising to help me out of my coat.

"You look stunning."

"Thank you," I replied with a smile as he guided me to our table and pulled out my chair.

Predictable Carter.

Ever the gentleman.

"How was your day?" he asked once we were seated, his tone lighter than his eyes.

"The closing for the big Dade County deal is just around the corner," I began.

"I’m presenting the day after tomorrow.

You know Mrs.

Pierce—she didn’t miss a chance to turn up the pressure today." I smirked and continued, "But I’m looking forward to it. There are still a few minor details to iron out, but I feel prepared."

He forced a smile.

"That sounds just like you, darling.

But I’m not surprised.

You’re control personified."

"Tell me, how was your day?" I asked in return.

He seemed distracted.

"Good," he answered finally, before collecting himself and making his voice firmer.

"Very good, actually.

The firm is running smoothly.

We’ve closed a new deal that will keep us busy for months."

I waited, but he seemed hesitant.

"Carter, is everything alright?" I pressed, noticing his reluctance.

"Yes, of course," he said, a little too quickly, as if trying to convince me.

But then he paused briefly before continuing.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something." His voice softened, almost cautious.

"I’ve been thinking...

Fiona, would you consider becoming a partner in my firm?"

"What?" I blinked, surprised by the suggestion.

"That sounds...

tempting," I admitted finally.

"It means a lot that you thought of me.

But..." I hesitated, searching for the right words. "We’ve always made sure to keep our professional and personal lives separate. It was important to both of us to maintain our independence."

Carter nodded slowly, his fingers fidgeting restlessly with the stem of his wine glass.

"I understand that," he said at last.

"But I’m taking a big step with the firm right now, and I want you to be part of it.

It would mean a great deal to me."

"I’ll think about it," I promised him.

Carter seemed to gather himself for a moment before speaking again.

His voice was firmer now, as if trying to convince himself.

"We’re on the verge of finalizing a partnership with a European consortium.

It’s a project that will define the next few years.

Energy efficiency and sustainable technologies—that’s the future, Fiona." His gaze grew more intense, and I sensed the enthusiasm that had been hidden beneath his earlier tension. "The consortium is ready to invest heavily, but of course, they expect us to contribute equity as well. Your involvement wouldn’t just be symbolic—it would signal that we’re building on a strong foundation together."

"That sounds ambitious," I said, trying to grasp the magnitude of his words.

"But also risky.

Are these investors reliable?"

He leaned forward slightly, his fingers still on his wine glass.

"Absolutely.

They’re well-connected and have already proven themselves in multiple markets.

It’s a one-of-a-kind opportunity, Fiona.

If this goes through, we won’t just be major players nationally—we’ll be among the big names internationally."

His enthusiasm was contagious, and for a moment, I actually considered what it would mean to be part of something so significant.

But there was also that tiny spark of skepticism in me, impossible to shake.

"And what exactly would my role be?" I asked finally, my voice calm but alert.

"Of course, it would be more of a silent partnership," he explained quickly.

"I don’t want you to feel pressured.

But your name, your reputation...

that would make an incredible difference.

You’d be the perfect partner, Fiona. Dependable, competent, and..." He paused briefly, and his voice softened. "Someone I trust absolutely."

I smiled faintly, because inside, a flicker of unease had begun to stir.

Carter had always made me feel like I could be independent and self-determined—yet now, it seemed he wanted to redraw those boundaries.

His words were flattering, no question.

"It sounds like you’ve thought this through," I said carefully.

"And I appreciate that you want to include me in it."

"I want us both to win," he replied, and something flickered in his eyes that I couldn't immediately decipher.

"This wouldn't just strengthen my firm—it would strengthen us.

We could build something together, Fiona.

Something lasting."

I nodded slowly, but the lump in my throat stifled any further words.

"I'll think about it," I repeated, letting my gaze drift across the flickering candles that failed to dispel the quiet shadows his proposal had cast.

The conversation ebbed, and a strange silence settled between us.

I watched as he meticulously aligned his silverware beside his plate, his eyes distant.

Something was weighing on him.

"Carter?" I asked, concern creeping into my voice.

"What's wrong?"

He lifted his head, looking at me as if searching for the right words.

"I've been thinking about us, Fiona," he began, his tone hesitant, almost cautious.

"About our future together."

An uneasy feeling coiled in my chest.

I could guess where this was headed, but I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

"I think..." He paused, hesitating.

"I think we should consider marriage.

We've been together for a while now.

And I don't know what we're waiting for."

His words hit me like a blow, and I felt every part of me recoil.

It wasn't that I didn't love Carter—but the idea of marriage...

it felt overwhelming and wrong, like a final decision that would end my life as I knew it.

I couldn't explain it, but something deep inside wanted to run, wanted to scream that this wasn't the right path.

"Carter, that's...

that's a huge step." I forced a smile, trying to mask my unease.

"I mean, it's beautiful that you feel this way, but maybe we should give ourselves more time to think about it?"

He nodded, but I saw the disappointment in his eyes.

"Of course.

I just wanted you to know how I feel."

"I know," I said quickly, placing my hand over his in an attempt to soothe him.

But deep down, I knew I was lying—to him, and to myself.

The silence in the car during the drive home was like a viscous substance filling the space between us.

Carter attempted to lighten the mood with trivial remarks—something about traffic or a new restaurant he'd discovered.

But his voice sounded strained, and I could feel the tension wrapped around us like an invisible thread.

It was a stark contrast to the grand gesture he'd made earlier.

His smile no longer shone as brightly, his movements slightly less assured.

When we entered the apartment, the oppressive silence seemed to creep in with us.

Carter closed the door behind us and pulled me into an embrace.

"Fiona, I love you.

I'll give you all the time you need." His voice was soft, almost pleading, and I could feel how desperately he was trying to reach me.

I wrapped my arms around him, returning the hug, but inside, I felt only emptiness.

His understanding was admirable, yet it only made everything harder.

I should have been grateful to have such a considerate man by my side.

But increasingly, I found that very consideration suffocating.

Carter seemed determined to avoid conflict at all costs, while I often longed for a challenge—for a partner who would push me, confront me.

Not just in our relationship, but in life.

I felt a natural urge to prove myself, to test my limits—professionally and personally.

But Carter...

he was different.

He wanted only peace, only harmony.

And he seemed to reinforce that with a certain smugness he couldn’t, if I was honest, afford.

"I love you too," I murmured finally, but the words tasted bitter in my mouth.

His grip loosened, and he searched my eyes, his own full of hope, as if those words could fix everything.

But they weren’t enough.

He kissed me gently—a kiss meant to convey comfort and security, not passion or desire.

His lips brushed tenderly over mine, and I returned the kiss out of obligation, not conviction.

Loving Carter was like a calm river—peaceful, but without current, without depth.

We moved to the bedroom, and Carter tossed his jacket onto the armchair in the corner.

I sat on the edge of the bed, slipping off my shoes and placing them neatly side by side.

Meanwhile, Carter undid the top buttons of his shirt and smiled at me.

It was a familiar moment, a ritual we’d shared countless times.

But tonight, it felt monotonous, almost like a scene from a movie we’d acted in too often.

"Fiona," he said softly, stepping closer.

He sat beside me, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

His touch was, as always, tender, full of respect.

I knew he desired me, but he was always cautious, as if afraid to ask for too much.

I kissed him—longer, more demanding than usual.

I wanted to feel if there was still something there.

His lips were soft, as soft as ever.

Familiar.

Gentle. But nothing that truly reached me. No electric spark, no pull deep inside. Just this mild warmth that came and went without leaving a trace. I let my teeth graze his lower lip—a playful bite, a last attempt to lure him into something I barely dared name. But the moment I felt him stiffen, I knew I’d lost him—at least for now. He pulled away, looking at me with an embarrassed, almost guilty smile.

"Not so rough, Fiona," he said quietly.

Something inside me sank.

Like water slowly slipping beneath the surface.

I sat up slightly, trailing my fingers over his chest.

"I just thought...

maybe we could try something different."

He raised his eyebrows slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"A colleague told me her boyfriend tied her up.

Not brutally or anything.

She said it was...

incredibly intense.

That it completely overwhelmed her." I tried to keep my tone casual, but my heart beat faster. I wanted—too much—for him to respond openly. Or at least with curiosity.

His expression shifted.

First confusion.

Then unease.

His brow furrowed slightly as his eyes scanned my face.

"I'm not a sadist, Fiona. Or whatever you need for that kind of thing."

He didn't laugh.

But there was something in his voice that pricked me like a needle.

Not dismissive.

But not curious either.

More like I'd confronted him with something that overwhelmed him.

I swallowed.

Tried a second time to reach him.

"I didn't mean you should hurt me.

I just thought...

maybe we could explore it together.

Maybe we'd like it." I knew I was revealing too much.

Or perhaps too little. But I wanted so desperately for something to change.

Instead of answering, he leaned in and kissed me.

Gently.

Tenderly.

As always.

"I love everything about you," he whispered against my lips. "Even what we have. Even our sex life."

I closed my eyes.

Not from arousal.

But to hide my disappointment.

It wasn't his fault.

He meant well. He loved me. But he didn't know it wasn't enough anymore.

He carefully pushed me onto the bed, began undressing me.

His hands were warm, but they followed a familiar path.

The same touches.

The same kisses on my neck, my shoulders, my collarbones.

Soon his body was on mine.

His movements were careful, steady.

Nothing about it was wrong.

And yet everything was wrong.

When he entered me, I closed my eyes again, tried to focus on the moment.

I rolled my hips, took him deeper because I knew he liked it.

He looked into my eyes, full of love, full of devotion - and I smiled.

Automatically.

Like a machine. Like a woman who's learned to play the role expected of her. I counted silently in my head. His thrusts. The steady breaths. The trembling in his arms that told me he was close. And when he came, he whispered my name as if I were his greatest treasure. I whispered his back. Because I had to. Because playing along was easier than being honest.

I lay still as he settled beside me, his arm around my waist.

His breathing grew calmer.

Content.

I stared at the ceiling, my body still warm from him.

Inside me, something had come loose that no longer wanted to return to its place.

I turned on my side and closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come.

I wondered how much longer I could keep up this charade.

The next morning, I could see the usual workweek hustle etched on my colleagues' faces while a strange emptiness churned inside me.

Normally, this sight would comfort me—an organized chaos mirroring my own structure and control.

But today was different.

My steps dragged slower, the clarity I usually found in my work now obscured as if by a veil.

I climbed the broad staircase past glass-walled conference rooms where the day's first meetings were already underway.

The murmur of voices behind closed doors and the clatter of keyboards blended into an unceasing stream of noise.

I loved losing myself in this bustle, disappearing into spreadsheets, plans, and presentations.

Today, my vision felt clouded, my thoughts drifting relentlessly.

When I finally reached my desk, I paused, staring at the perfectly arranged papers and the sleek screen of my laptop.

This was usually the moment I felt centered—when the familiar structure of my routine reclaimed me.

Instead, a restlessness clung to me, stubborn and unshakable.

My mind kept circling back to last night's conversation with Carter.

His words still echoed in my head when a knock at the door snapped me back. I looked up to see Mrs. Pierce, my boss, framed in the doorway. Her gaze was as stern as ever, but laser-focused, which could only mean one thing: the impending meeting.

"Fiona," Mrs.

Pierce said briskly, stepping inside.

"We need to review tomorrow’s presentation again.

I want every detail ironclad before we face the clients.

There’s no room for error."

I nodded, immediately shifting into work mode.

The knot in my stomach loosened slightly as I grasped at work as an escape—at least for now.

"Of course, Mrs.

Pierce," I said, standing.

"I’m ready."

She led me to the large conference room, flooded with afternoon sunlight.

Documents were spread across the long, polished table, the presentation pulled up on the wall-mounted screen.

I knew how pivotal this meeting was.

Tomorrow’s appointment with one of the firm’s most important clients would shape my career trajectory.

"Sit," Mrs.

Pierce directed, taking her place at the head of the table.

"We’ll go through this point by point.

I need you prepared for every possible question tomorrow." The familiar pressure she wielded settled over me—a mix of demand and challenge I’d come to appreciate, even rely on, because it pushed me to excel.

"Let’s start with the key points," Mrs.

Pierce began, gesturing to the first slides outlining the financial plan for the luxury development.

"What if they challenge the pricing? The specs and architecture are impeccable, but our $50 million ask still leaves room for pushback.

Do you have enough ammunition to defend it?"

I launched into my rationale for the pricing structure and negotiation strategy.

Mrs.

Pierce listened intently, interjecting with sharp questions, forcing me to seal every possible gap.

It was grueling but necessary.

With each detail, I felt myself sinking deeper into the work, the turmoil over Carter and my private life fading—temporarily.

Work gave me the control I so desperately craved in my personal life.

Yet somewhere beneath the focus, I knew the questions Rachel had raised wouldn’t vanish so easily.

Nearly two hours later, as we finalized the last details, Mrs.

Pierce leaned back and fixed me with a piercing look.

"This is solid," she said finally.

"But tomorrow, I expect perfection, Fiona.

This is a major opportunity—for you and for us. Show them what you’re made of."

I nodded, willing the tension in my body to ease.

"You can count on me, as always, Mrs.

Pierce," I replied, voice steady.

But inside, the pressure weighed heavier than ever.

Back in my office, as I made the final preparations for the next day, thoughts of Carter came flooding back.

It wasn't just professional responsibilities weighing on my shoulders - my personal life seemed to be unraveling simultaneously.

The discussion with Carter about our future had left me deeply unsettled.

I'd always assumed marriage was a step I wanted to take.

But now it felt suffocating, almost like a cage I needed to escape.

I opened my laptop and tried refocusing on the presentation, yet my gaze kept drifting unconsciously to the window, out to Miami's twilight.

The city pulsed with life before me, but inside raged a storm of uncertainty and unanswered questions.

"Am I truly ready for what Carter wants?" I whispered, staring into the distance.

The question echoed in my mind, and I knew I'd need to find an answer soon.

Yet tomorrow was crucial.

I'd spent weeks meticulously preparing for this meeting, knowing how pivotal it was for my career.

The multi-million dollar real estate deal we were negotiating represented a rare opportunity - one I'd fought hard to lead as project manager for the prestigious Dade County development.

This wasn't just about money.

The deal's implications would ripple through the industry's power structures and hierarchies.