My Bloody Valentine

1. Maya

1

MAYA

I adjust my black cocktail dress, scanning the opulent ballroom of The Drake Hotel. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over displays of chocolate art that would put museum pieces to shame. A chocolate fountain cascades down seven tiers, its surface gleaming like liquid silk.

“Ms. Kendall.” A server materializes beside me with a tray of champagne flutes. “Mr. Vale requested this special vintage for you.”

The bubbles dance across my tongue, but the underlying notes catch my attention. Hints of melancholy? I close my eyes, letting my emotional-gustatory synesthesia parse through the complex flavors.

“First time at one of Adrian Vale’s events?” A woman in red sidles up next to me, her diamond necklace catching the light.

“I review food for the Gastronome.” I don’t mention my unique ability to detect emotions in food. That tends to make people uncomfortable.

The crowd parts like the Red Sea, and there he is. Adrian Vale moves through his carefully curated wonderland with the grace of a jungle cat. His tailored black suit emphasizes broad shoulders, and his medium-length dark hair is styled into a quiff, faded on the sides. But his eyes draw me in—bright blue with flecks of gold, studying everything and everyone with laser focus.

He stops at each display to explain the inspiration behind his creations. His rich, smooth voice carries across the room, reminding me of the chocolates he crafts.

“This piece represents the duality of love,” he says, gesturing to a sculpture of intertwined hearts—one pristine white chocolate, the other dark as night. “Sweet and bitter, pleasure and pain.”

I reach for one of his signature truffles from a nearby display. The chocolate shell gives way with a satisfying crack. The ganache inside spreads across my tongue and?—

Empty. Hollow. A void where emotion should be.

I’ve tasted thousands of creations, but never one so soulless. It’s a masterclass in technical skill, but something vital is missing. It’s like biting into a corpse.

“What are your thoughts on my humble offerings?” His voice startles me. Adrian Vale stands before me, one eyebrow raised. He’s taller than I realized and must be over six feet two.

Our eyes connect. “Your technique is impeccable, Mr. Vale. The tempering, the shell-to-filling ratio, the complexity of flavors...” I take another bite, letting the chocolate melt on my tongue. “But something is missing.”

His eyes narrow, though his polite smile remains fixed. “Missing?”

“Soul.” I set the half-eaten truffle on a passing tray. “These chocolates are empty. They were created by someone who doesn’t feel joy, love, or passion.”

A flash of something sinister crosses his features, gone so quickly I almost think I imagined it.

“How fascinating.” He steps closer, invading my personal space. The scent of cocoa and amber clings to him. “And what makes you such an expert on the emotional content of chocolate, Ms. Kendall?”

I should back away and soften my critique, but something in his intense stare compels honesty.

“I taste emotions in food.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “It’s a form of synesthesia. And your chocolates? They’re technically perfect but emotionally barren. Like they were made through some dark ritual rather than with love.”

Instead of offense, a smile blooms on his face. His eyes shine with an almost predatory gleam.

“Dark ritual?” He issues a low chuckle, the sound sending a chill through me. “Now, that is an interesting choice of words.” He plucks a fresh truffle from a nearby display. “Tell me, what emotions do you taste in this one?”

The chocolate touches my lips and— emptiness, void, hunger . Underneath it all, something else. Something that freezes me in place.

“Nothing.” I swallow hard. “And everything.”

His smile widens. “Ms. Kendall, we must talk longer about your unique palate.”

“Perhaps we could discuss this further in my private tasting room?” Adrian’s fingers brush mine as he takes my empty champagne flute. “I have some experimental pieces that might challenge your... unique perspective.”

A sudden wave of cold rushes over me that is not associated with the room’s temperature. “I have three more events to review tonight.”

“Cancel them.” His tone dips intimately. “I’ll make it worth your while. After all, how often do you encounter chocolates that speak to you on such a visceral level?”

“You mean the lack of speaking?”

“Or perhaps you’re not listening closely enough.” He produces a small box wrapped in black silk ribbon from his jacket pocket. “Take this home. Sample it privately. Then call me when you’re ready to explore deeper.”

The box feels heavy in my hands. Warm, like it contains something alive.

“I don’t usually?—”

“Accept gifts from chocolatiers whose work you’ve just criticized?” His laugh holds no humor. “Consider it research. For your review.”

I should refuse. I should walk away from those intense eyes and how they seem to strip away my defenses. Still, my fingers are already untying the ribbon.

Inside sits a single chocolate, so onyx it absorbs the light. The surface ripples with complex patterns that remind me of...

“Is that a fingerprint?”

“Very observant.” Adrian shifts closer. “Every piece I create bears my mark. If you can’t taste that emotion, perhaps your gift isn’t as refined as you believe.”

“Can I eat it now?” I ask.

His brow raises, a slight smirk on his lips. “Go ahead.”

I lift up the dark chocolate and place it in my mouth. The chocolate melts on my tongue. The flavor explodes—bitter, sweet, and something else. Something that ignites a flutter in my chest. Not emptiness this time. No, this tastes like...

Lust.

I open my eyes to find Adrian watching me with unconcealed fascination. “Well?”

“How did you...” My voice trails off as the aftertaste hits.

“I think,” he says, pulling a business card from his pocket, “there’s a lot we need to talk about concerning the true nature of emotion in chocolate.”

I slip his business card into my clutch. “That was... different from your Valentine’s collection.”

“Different can be enlightening.” Adrian’s eyes lock onto mine.

“While I appreciate the private tasting, Mr. Vale, my review will focus on what’s available to your customers.” I straighten my shoulders, refusing to let his intensity shake my professional integrity. “And those truffles lack the profoundness this one possessed.”

“Call me Adrian.” He traces the display with one finger. “And you’re right—what’s available to the public is merely a surface-level experience.”

“Then perhaps you should consider putting more of yourself into your commercial pieces.” I gesture toward the Valentine’s collection. “These are beautiful, but they’re like empty vessels. Your customers deserve better.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. “The public gets just what they are entitled to, Ms. Kendall. They consume without thought, without appreciation for true artistry.”

“Maya,” I correct him. “And that’s rather cynical for someone who creates luxury chocolates.”

“Is it cynical to reserve one’s finest work for those who can truly appreciate it?” His hand brushes my arm as he reaches past me for a champagne flute. “Like you.”

“Flattery won’t change my review.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Your honesty is... refreshing. Most critics simply praise the aesthetic, never diving beneath the surface.”

“Well, the surface is all most people can taste. I have the mixed blessing of experiencing more.”

“Mixed blessing?” His eyebrows lift. “How fascinating. Do tell me more.”

“Another time, perhaps.” I tuck my clutch under my arm. “I have other events tonight, remember?”

“Of course.” He distances himself, but his eyes stay glued to mine. “Though I hope you’ll reconsider canceling them.”

“I’m afraid I can’t cancel.” I adjust my clutch, ignoring how his proximity gives me goosebumps. “Professional obligations.”

“Ah yes, your integrity.” Adrian’s fingers trace my arm lightly. “One of your more... appealing qualities.”

“I’m sure we’ll meet again, Mr. Vale.” I take a step back, needing distance from his magnetic pull.

“Adrian,” he corrects, his smile sharp as a razor’s edge. “And yes, we most certainly will. After all, you still need to explore what I can create.”

The way he says it sends a chill down my spine—not entirely unpleasant, but warning bells ring in my head. There’s something in his eyes, something that doesn’t quite match his polished exterior. Like looking at one of his chocolates—beautiful on the surface but hollow inside. Or maybe not hollow… Maybe hiding something else entirely.

“Your Valentine’s collection launches next week, doesn’t it?” I keep my voice professional despite the heat rising in my cheeks.

“Indeed. Though I’m creating something special for the launch. Something that might interest your unique palate.” He steps closer again, and I catch that intoxicating scent—cocoa and amber. “I do hope you’ll attend.”

I hate how my body responds to his presence, the way I want to lean into that dangerous energy radiating off him. Everything about Adrian Vale screams “warning,” yet I’m drawn to him like a magnet to metal.

“We’ll see.” I turn to leave, but his voice stops me.

“The chocolate you just consumed,” Adrian’s voice pierces the air, “contains a unique blend.”

I freeze mid-step, my hand clutching my purse tighter. The aftertaste of the chocolate lingers on my tongue—that lingering desire and something else I can’t quite place.

“What do you mean?” I turn back to face him.

“Let’s just say the emotional resonance you experienced wasn’t accidental.” He closes the space separating us. “I had to ensure you’d taste something memorable.”

My heart speeds up as the chocolate’s flavor shifts on my tongue. The initial notes deepen into something carnal.

“What did you put in it?”

“Nothing illegal, I assure you.” His fingers graze my wrist. “Though the ingredient can be rather addictive. The effect tends to intensify over time.”

“That’s not possible.” But even as I say it, heat spreads through my chest, and the flavors on my tongue become more pronounced.

“Isn’t it?” Adrian’s smile holds secrets. “You, of all people, should know that taste is more than just chemical reactions. It’s emotion, memory...” His thumb dances in circles on my wrist. “Desire.”

I jerk my hand away. Whatever is in that chocolate already spreads through my system, making everything feel more intense and alive.

“I need to go.”

“Of course.” He steps back, but his eyes never leave mine. “Though I suspect you’ll be calling me soon enough. That chocolate has a way of... lingering.”

I make my way to my car, but my hands are unsteady as I try to unlock it. The taste in my mouth has evolved—something masculine, almost...

My cheeks flush hot as the realization hits. That unique blend Adrian mentioned. The way it’s affecting me. Could he have actually...?

I grip the steering wheel, attempting to calm my nerves. The flavors dance on my tongue—dark chocolate, but something saltier and earthier underneath that. My synesthesia allows me to taste lust and raw male euphoria.

“Oh God.” I press my thighs together, mortified at how my body’s responding. He put his... he made me...

The chocolate box sits accusingly on the passenger seat. One bite was all it took for him to mark me, to make me consume a part of him. And worse—my gift means I can taste every emotion he poured into it. Every ounce of desire.

My phone vibrates with a message from an unknown number.

Now you understand the emotion I’m capable of creating.

I should be disgusted. Should report him. Instead, I run my tongue over my lips, chasing the last traces of his cum and the decadent chocolate. The combination is intoxicating, and my body burns with need.

What kind of person am I that this turns me on instead of repulsing me?