Page 20 of Lord of the Dark (Drawn into Darkness #1)

Fiona Robertson

The candles on the table cast a soft, flickering glow across the polished surface, and the scent of rosemary and garlic hung in the air.

It was a perfectly staged dinner, just how Carter liked it.

The wine glimmered dark red in our glasses, and the linen napkins lay neatly folded beside the plates.

A picture of security and stability.

Yet inside me, a storm raged.

Carter smiled as he recounted his day—my thoughts drifted.

Here I sat, in the familiar calm of our shared life, yet the echoes of those last hours with Alessandro still reverberated through me.

Meanwhile, an entirely different film played in my mind's eye: the moment I'd pointed the gun at him, and that smile creeping onto his lips because he knew it was unloaded.

How I'd provoked him and he'd chased me across his office, slamming me brutally against the door.

Or all those twisted details he'd shared about his Colombian captive, and how hot it made both of us.

God, the way he'd yanked me against him and fucked me raw.

Just remembering it made my deepest muscles clench with lingering pleasure, sparking that familiar, scorching tingle. A shiver raced across my skin, and I tightened my grip on the wineglass to keep from losing my grip on reality. Alessandro was dangerous, terrifying, and utterly irresistible. He was the polar opposite of Carter, who sat across from me now, relaxed and engrossed in his story, completely oblivious to what had happened. It felt almost surreal, sitting here so calmly with candles between us while my body still hummed with the memory of Alessandro.

"Fiona?" Carter's voice jerked me back.

I blinked at him.

"Are you even listening?"

No, I was just mentally getting railed by your business partner again.

"Of course," I replied, my voice smooth as velvet.

I reached for my silverware just to occupy my hands, but the food tasted like ashes in my mouth.

I had no idea what he'd been saying - my mind was projecting a frenzied highlight reel of the most depraved, searing moments from this afternoon.

And finally, what I'd discovered there.

The truth? Carter's financial troubles.

I set my fork down quietly and met his gaze.

"Carter, I need to ask you something."

He froze mid-bite, his fork suspended in air as his eyes locked onto mine.

"What is it?"

I could feel my pulse accelerating, but kept my voice steady.

"I've heard...

you're having difficulties with the company.

Is that true?"

His face went rigid.

Slowly, he lowered his fork back to the plate.

"Who told you that?"

I leaned back slightly, holding his stare.

"Carter, I work in real estate.

It's an incestuous little bubble where everyone talks about everyone.

And frankly, I'm hurt you didn't tell me."

He shook his head mechanically, reaching for his wine glass like a lifeline.

"Fiona, you know how this industry is.

There are always rumors.

But trust me, there's nothing to worry about.

Everything's fine."

Are you fucking kidding me? You're really going to keep lying to my face?

I arched a brow and lowered my glass.

"Challenges, Carter? I'm talking about financial troubles.

This sounds like more than just a challenge."

His laugh was sharp, forced.

"You don't actually believe that nonsense, do you? The company's solid.

Some minor cash flow hiccups, but that's standard in our business."

The lie was so transparent it stung—did he really think I was that naive?

"Minor hiccups? Is that why I heard you were scrambling to bring in new investors?"

Carter shifted.

His gaze turned razor-edged, the smile vanishing as he set his silverware down with deliberate care, lacing his fingers together.

"Fiona," he said, voice deceptively calm—the kind that precedes a storm.

"Where did you hear that?"

My pulse spiked, but I kept my tone even.

"Like I said, real estate's a small world.

These things don't stay quiet."

"No." His stare left no room to deflect.

"Only a handful of people know.

And none of them would talk.

So—who told you?"

I cursed inwardly.

Buying time, I lifted my wineglass, took a sip, and set it down under his unrelenting gaze.

"Carter, it doesn't matter who told me," I said finally.

"What matters is why you didn't."

"Doesn't matter?" A cold laugh as he leaned back.

"Of course it matters.

Was it one of my advisors? Or—" His voice turned lethal.

"—was it Russo?"

The name hung like a blade between us.

Heat flooded my face, but I schooled my features blank.

"I'm not telling you who it was.

That's not the point.

The point is you didn't trust me, your girlfriend, enough to be honest."

"Not the point?" His voice could've cut glass.

"If Russo knows, and you know, it means he's broadcasting it.

So tell me—" He leaned in, eyes drilling into mine.

"Have you been talking to Russo?"

My hands trembled faintly, the tremor nearly impossible to suppress.

"Carter, I asked you a question.

Why didn't you tell me?"

He leaned back, eyes narrowed to slits.

"Because I didn't want you to worry.

Because I wanted to protect you."

"Protect me?" My voice turned razor-edged.

"From what, exactly? The truth? From the fact that your perfect little empire might not be as flawless as you've pretended?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw as if I'd struck him.

"That's not fair, Fiona.

I've built everything for us.

A life we could both be proud of."

"By lying to me?" Heat crawled up my neck, my volume rising.

"You shut me out, Carter.

Me.

Your girlfriend.

Did you really think I couldn't handle it?"

His lips pressed into a thin line, visibly struggling for composure.

"It wasn't like that.

It was complicated.

I had it under control."

"Did you?" I crossed my arms, my stare unrelenting.

"You're dealing with Russo.

Russo, Carter! Do you even understand how dangerous that is?"

His head snapped up, eyes sharp as blades.

"So it was him."

Shit.

"He's known in our industry.

And like I already said: people talk.

You can't tell me you didn't know what you were getting into."

"Fiona," he began, his voice subdued, almost pleading, "I had no other choice.

The company...

it was on the edge of the abyss.

I had to act.

I couldn't lose us."

"Us?" The word tasted bitter on my tongue.

"This has nothing to do with 'us,' Carter.

You didn't include me.

You lied to me.

That's the opposite of 'us.'"

He stood up, the chair leg scraped loudly across the floor.

"Goddammit, of course it has something to do with us! You're part of my company.

I only did all of this to protect you! You have no idea what it's like to bear this responsibility."

"You only did this for me?" You damn liar! I rose as well, my hands balling into fists.

"Maybe because you never let me in, Carter! Maybe because you believe you have to do everything alone.

But that's not how it works.

Not when you truly trust someone."

The silence that followed was crushing.

We stood facing each other, both trapped in the bitter realization of the lies and a mixture of disappointment and anger.

For a moment, I thought I saw regret in Carter's face.

But then it disappeared, replaced by a mask.

"Maybe you're right," he said finally.

"Maybe it doesn't work."

"That's all you have to say?" I couldn't believe it.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he turned around and reached for his glass, as if wanting to end the discussion.

But the rage inside me burned too fiercely to back down.

"You know, Carter," I said slowly, my voice full of sharpness, "you're not the only one who makes decisions.

Maybe I should also think about what I really want."

He turned back to me slowly, and I saw something flare up in his gaze—pain, anger, maybe even fear.

No idea, because as always during an argument, he said nothing more.

And in that moment, I knew something between us had shattered beyond repair.