Darkest Deception (Deception Series)

17

Ijab at the emergency button, but the speaker just buzzes at me. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I realise there is no service available. I send a help signal through the software I created on my phone, but I know I will have to wait longer.

I sigh, letting my head drop back. We are both seated on the floor; though Ambrose is sitting on a handkerchief because she said, and I quote, ‘my dress is too expensive to get dirty sitting on an elevator floor’. It had me rolling my eyes, but I didn’t let my amusement show.

Ambrose is getting progressively more restless. She keeps looking through her documents, scrolling on her phone, and picking at her nails, but nothing keeps her occupied for long. I tried to talk to her, but she gave me one-word answers, and now, even those are gone.

Her hands are shaking ever so slightly, but she crosses her arms to hide them from me.

“I think it could be just one more hour now,” I say.

A small part of me wants to ease her restlessness. Why do I want that to happen? I don’t know. I should be happy she is feeling on edge; in fact, I should be encouraging it.

“Shaking because you can’t handle being alone with me for too long?”

She looks at me, her eyes jittery as she manages to scoff. “As if. Not everything is about you.”

“Really? Here I was thinking you are regretting stopping what could have happened—”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night,”

A chuckle slips past my lips. “I’ll be getting plenty of sleep tonight, and I’ll enjoy it.”

She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t ask me why.

“Ask me why.”

“Why?” She finally looks at me again after staring at the floor for too long. Those profound eyes that are usually bright and full of her passion for keeping her company, for standing up straight in front of a man like me, are dull. Seeing them flick around, in fear or even in wariness, leaves me confused.

“You will be in it.”

She groans and covers her face. “Stop it.” The trembling in her hands starts again.

Her whole body starts shaking, and worry takes over me.

“Ambrose?” I finally say.

She lowers her hands, and her eyes are wide as she looks at her hands. Her fingers still tremble, and the blue veins are prominent beneath her pale skin. The colour drains from her face, and her breathing turns into abnormal pattern of short pants.

The elevator shakes, and lights die, pitching us into complete darkness. Ambrose’s panicked gasp is loud in the tomblike silence.

For the first time ever, I hear her whimper.

“No. I need the light. Please keep it on,” she begs.

I fumble for my phone and tap the flashlight icon, then set it on the floor; but her shaking doesn’t stop.

I slide over to her and grab her shaking hands.

She’s ice cold.

Shaking.

Panicking.

The faint light from my phone reveals tears in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

“Ambrose,” I say firmly. “Look at me.”

“Tell them to open it. Please, please,” she begs.

I freeze in shock.

Ambrose would never beg. Not like this.

My Ambrose is strong and a fighter.

My chest tightens in worry for her, my own thoughts not making sense as I watch her tremble in my hold. She looks so small, so fragile and frail, that I fear she may break apart like cracked glass in front of me.

And … the burning hate fades ever so slightly.

To justify what I am about to do, I tell myself that I can hate her and want her when we are out of here, but right now, I am worried and need to comfort her. She needs this.

She needs someone.

“Helia.” Her whisper is quiet, so soft it feels like a caress on my cold skin. It wrenches at my heart, stripping away the hate I usually feel for her. I fear if she were to ask me anything in that tone, I would turn the world inside out to give it to her.

I would carve it out for her, and my ability to make that happen is so high it’s dangerous to even think about it.

“Please, tell them to open it. Why did they lock us in here? Is it because of what I did?” Her voice shakes, and that’s when I reach my limit.

I pull her close to me, sitting her on my lap. Her arms instantly go around my torso, her head burying into my chest.

“No,” I whisper, but she shakes her head against me.

“No, no, no—” Ambrose pushes me away and starts to look around, her eyes not focusing on anything.

I need to stop her, to distract her.

I shouldn’t do this.

I hate her.

Despise her.

She’s made my life difficult.

But fuck it. Fuck my rules and fuck my hate.

Grabbing her chin, I kiss her.

She instantly grabs my wrists and freezes. I don’t truly kiss her, just press my lips against hers. She slowly opens her mouth, and my mind shuts down. I go to pull back. I wasn’t supposed to do this.

No.

Ambrose places a hand on my jaw and pulls me back, kissing me harder.

It’s rushed, like she wants to use this lifeline to escape reality and she’s running out of time. I follow her lead, kissing her back just as harshly, just as fast, just as desperately.

My skin burns with her touch, and explosions happen inside of me, fireworks that manage to wreck me. It’s the dam finally breaking, rushing through us, wreaking destruction, and I know, beyond doubt, that this kiss will destroy us both, but I can’t seem to care.

Her body relaxes, and she sighs into the kiss. She grabs hold of my hair, and her perfectly manicured nails dig into my scalp, making me quietly moan into her mouth.

Mistake. This is a mistake.

I almost killed her for insulting me.

But I want her to know that even with this kiss, I own her.

That’s when the carnage takes over and the predator in me awakes.

I push my tongue into her mouth, swiping it against hers, and the instinct to pull her closer grows. I kiss her and kiss her until I feel her breathing slow. Her heart is pounding; I can feel it when my hand travels down her neck and back. I suck her tongue, slowly letting go, then dive back in.

Then I let her go, dropping my hands and pulling back.

Her eyes open.

Her lips glisten, and, fuck, if that sight isn’t the most seductive sight ever…

“Ambrose, I—”

“Let’s admit that it was a mistake. It’s best for both of us. I freaked out, and you just did what you thought was best to distract me.” Her words are exactly what I was going to say, but hearing her call it a mistake when the kiss felt so much deeper throws me off.

The want is still there.

To kiss her again.

But I nod and let it go.

Ambrose doesn’t look at me when the elevator shakes.

The light comes back on, and the doors slide open.

And Ambrose still acts like nothing happened as we go into our meeting.