Page 58 of Meet Me In The Dark (Skeptically In Love #3)

Celeste

The moment I step off the elevator, I know something is off.

Louise glances up from her computer, and the look in her eyes is enough to slow my stride. It’s a warning—a silent brace yourself .

Julian told me everything last night—Kingsley’s little performance at the gala, the way he spoke about me, the black eye Julian left him with.

I know Kingsley’s pissed. I just didn’t expect him to be stupid enough to walk in here.

But there he is, sitting in one of the guest chairs in my office with a contract in hand. His right eye is swollen and bruised a deep, satisfying shade of purple.

I close the door behind me without a word, cross the room, and shrug out of my coat. I drape it over the back of my chair and take my seat like this is any other meeting.

“How can I help you?”

“Sign it.” He pushes the contract toward me.

I glance down at it, then back at him. “Straight to the point. I like that.”

“You should. This is the best offer you’re going to get.” His voice is smug, too smug for a man whose company is on life support.

I pick up the pen, click it once, and scrawl across the bottom of the page. His mouth twitches like he’s already won.

Then he looks at the paper.

The twitch disappears.

In neat block letters, just below my signature line, it now reads: Shove this contract up your ass.

A vein in his temple jumps.

Because what Julian also told me last night—after describing in detail how much he enjoyed hitting Kingsley—was that Kingsley’s miracle investor came with one inconvenient stipulation: I had to be working there. Without me, the deal doesn’t close.

So now, here we are.

At least it explains why he’s been so persistent.

“Something wrong?” I ask sweetly.

He slams the contract down, eyes blazing.

I tilt my head, letting my gaze linger on the bruising over his cheekbone. “What happened to your poor eye?”

“Your boyfriend has a temper,” he says, his tone laced with something that makes my skin prickle. “That fucking scum—”

“Watch it.”

We remain in this silent standoff until his phone rings in his pocket.

He glances at the screen and answers without excusing himself.

“What?” he says, voice clipped. He listens for all of five seconds before color starts climbing up his neck. “What the hell do you mean they—No. No, that’s impossible.”

There’s a pause before his grip on the phone turns white-knuckled.

“Run that by me again,” he demands, his voice lowering to something dangerous. The kind of dangerous men use when they’ve just realized they’ve been cornered.

I sit back in my chair, cross my legs, and watch.

The call ends with him yanking the phone from his ear and slamming it down on the desk so hard the screen probably cracks.

“You fucking bitch.” The words are spit, not spoken. His eyes lock on me like I’ve just pulled the rug out from under him.

I tilt my head, all polite curiosity. “Come again?”

“Know anything about Blackwood & Calloway Holdings buying my company this morning?” His tone is venomous.

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I don’t tell him that.

Instead, I let one shoulder lift in the faintest shrug. “I couldn’t possibly keep up with all of Julian Blackwood’s business decisions.”

Kingsley’s nostrils flare and his face is a shade of red that looks medically unsafe .

He starts pacing, muttering incoherent fragments about vultures, traitors, and deals going sour under his breath.

Then he snaps.

With a violent sweep of his arm, he sends everything on my desk crashing to the floor.

I stand and smooth my skirt. Security’s more than likely already on their way, and for his sake, they better hurry.

I take a slow step toward him. “He warned you not to come near me again, Kingsley. Did you honestly think he wouldn’t know you were here this morning?”

For a second, he looks like he’s struggling to catch his breath. Then something ugly twists across his face.

“You mean your guard dog?” he sneers. “Blackwood’s nothing but a thug in a suit. Dragged up in some foster care gutter, probably still smells like it. Men like him—”

“Men like him,” I cut in sharply, “built themselves from nothing. Men like him didn’t need to prey on people weaker than them to get ahead. He earned what he has. You? You leeched off better minds until you ran out of them.”

I lean against my desk. “You want to talk about Julian? He’s dangerous, yes. Not because of where he came from. He’s dangerous because he’s smarter than you, stronger than you, and he has more power in his little finger than you’ve scraped together in your entire career.”

I’ve never seen anything like it. His face flushes deep red. There are veins standing out in his neck.

He takes a step toward me, then another. It’s a predator’s stalk.

“Careful,” I warn .

He doesn’t listen.

The moment his hand twitches like he’s about to grab me, instinct kicks in. The right hook Julian drilled into me connects with his jaw hard enough that pain shoots up my own arm, but not enough to stop the satisfaction that floods me when he stumbles back, clutching his face.

His already-bruised right eye is swelling darker by the second, and now the left is well on its way.

Two black eyes.

A matching set.

I’m a little proud.

Look at Julian and me working together.

But I get it now. The possessiveness in Julian’s voice when he talks about me. The way he plants himself between me and anything that even looks like a threat. I used to think it was over the top.

Now I understand.

Because that man is mine.

Julian is mine .

And I will defend him until the end.

Kingsley straightens just enough to spit something unintelligible, but he’s still too dazed to make it sting.

The sound of security’s heavy footsteps comes from the hall, right on cue. They stop in the doorway, taking in the scene.

I step closer, laying my hand flat against his chest in mock sympathy. “You’re ruined, Kingsley,” I say softly, almost kindly. “And not because of the black eyes. That’s only the garnish.”