by Mara McQueen
Copyright © Mara McQueen
All right reserved.
No part of this book may be used
Or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission
except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, events, and incidents are a
product of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to an actual person,
living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
BEWARE THE WICKED NIGHT
Beware the Wicked Love Series | Book 1.5
A Dark Contemporary Gothic Romance Novella
MARA McQUEEN
He paid off her debts and saved her life.
Now he wants one wicked night with her.
Olivia Abbate is in big trouble. Kieran Bolton, dangerous billionaire and heir, paid off the debt that was ruining her life and saved her.
But he doesn't want her to pay him back. He wants her.
Olivia might give into his touches, but there's one thing she promised he would never have before he vanishes from her life—her heart.
BEWARE THE WICKED NIGHT continues the steamy, twisted events in BEWARE THE WICKED HEIR, a Dark Contemporary Gothic Romance series.
CHAPTER 1—NORMAL
"I never understood how some people can eat blood and actually enjoy it," Olivia Abbate said as she dug into her black pudding like she hadn't eaten in a week. Well, come to think of it, what she had eaten for the past seven days barely qualified as food. "But, damn, does it taste good right now."
She'd ran into this restaurant with the sole goal of getting some waffles and a decent coffee. Finally. But after the sweet, sweet scent of fried bacon invaded her senses, she'd gone for the full English breakfast, at seven PM, and she was loving it.
After the last twenty-four hours, she deserved every greasy bite. And focusing on the food helped Olivia not lose her damn shit.
"Come now, people will start thinking I was a horrid host."
The bane and light of her existence, Kieran Bolton, wicked heir extraordinaire, chuckled as he dug into his sparse meal—scones and some jam he'd barely glanced at and which Olivia would probably steal once she finished her own plate.
They’d barely met a week ago, but he’d already turned her life upside down. He’d not only saved her life, but he’d also paid off her student loans. All two-hundred-plus thousand dollars which had been slowly destroying her existence and sanity.
And he didn’t want her to pay him back. Oh, no. He only wanted one last wicked night with her before he vanished into the night.
"I don't understand how you're not famished," she said between mouthfuls, trying to keep her nerves in check.
One last night and then…and then she didn’t know when—or if—she’d ever see him again.
"I am." He looked at her from behind his long eyelashes, piercing gaze telling Olivia he was most definitely not talking about food.
That look of his, promising such deliciously mischievous things without saying a word, could be her undoing.
It was easy, pretending they were a normal couple which hadn't almost lost their lives less than twenty-hours ago. But each time Olivia moved her arm, the bandages shifted and snagged on the big gash marring her skin, and yesterday came crashing back.
Bolton Manor, where she'd arrived a week ago to sell the estate, like the relentless real estate agent she was.
The creepy house and its creepy guests almost driving her away.
Kieran Bolton, the wicked heir that had enticed her to stay.
Emma, the madwoman who had wanted to slit Olivia's throat for ruining her devious plan of secretly and slowly poisoning Kieran's grandmother.
The chase.
The gun.
The blood.
The hospital.
The safety she had only found in Kieran's arms.
The questions that still lingered in the air, making Kieran frown whenever he thought Olivia wasn't looking.
But she always was. She couldn't get enough of the man. With their future still hazy, she wanted to bottle up each moment, each furtive glance, each smile, each whisper for when—if, Olivia, if—she wouldn't see him.
"I was wondering," he began in that raspy voice of his that softened whenever he talked to her and her alone. "Given everything that's happened—"
"The almost getting murdered part or the your-grandmother-and-my-colleague-are-still-in-the-hospital part?"
God, it sounded even more ridiculous said out loud.
But Mrs. Bolton and Underwood were in good hands, treated by some of the best doctors England had to offer.
Emma, the she-devil who'd gotten all of them into this mess, was also being treated for her wounds under the careful supervision of the police and some of Kieran's most dangerous associates. The ones that destroyed powerful men without even leaving a drop of blood behind.
"Both." A ghost of a smile passed his lips but didn't reach his eyes. "Given our particular circumstances, do you have to get back to work tomorrow?"
"No. Boss lady was very understanding—and happy neither me nor Underwood plan on suing the firm or you for putting our lives in danger."
She'd been in such a frenzy to get back to work only a day before. Now? All she wanted to do was spend the few hours she still had with Kieran and his wonderful, glorious body.
"Then, would you do me the greatest pleasure and let me rent us a room for tonight?" He rolled his shoulders back, wincing slightly. His body had taken the brunt of Emma's madness. "I think we both need to rest in a proper bed."
Oh, if they would be in the same bed, neither of them would be getting any sleep. And from the way Kieran's gaze darkened as it snaked over Olivia's bare neck, he was thinking the exact same thing.
She took a sip from her coffee, delighting in the way his ravenous stare followed her every move and took her sweet, sweet time replying.
"Yes," she said at last. Excitement pooled in the pit of her stomach. But she was also wary.
She planned on letting Kieran do unspeakable things to her body. But would her heart survive this night?
"Perfect." Kieran instantly signaled the waitress for the check, gaze not leaving Olivia's.
She leaned forward, smirk on her face, leg sliding underneath the table toward his. But her plan was quickly interrupted by the waitress teleporting herself to their table, all her attention on Kieran.
"Did you enjoy your meal?" she asked, much too preppy for this busy dinner shift.
"Yes, thank you," he said politely, threading his fingers through Olivia's.
"Then I hope you'll come again," the waitress said, all breathless as her eyes ping-ponged all over Kieran’s gorgeous face. If this girl only knew what was hiding underneath his beautiful façade. "Soon. Very soon."
Honestly, Olivia couldn't really blame her.
Kieran seemed perfection incarnate, all tight angles, glorious dark hair, and a presence that could fill any room. He didn't even have to open his mouth to draw everyone's attention.
But he was a very dangerous man with a mission and Olivia couldn’t allow herself to forget that.
When Kieran only nodded, polite as ever, the waitress sighed, and finally asked, "Cash or card?"
"Card," Olivia said before Kieran had a chance to open his mouth. She drew her hand away from his, digging into her wallet.
Kieran clenched his jaw. "Olivia—"
"Not a word," she said and handed the card over to the waitress, who looked at Olivia as if she was crazy for turning down the offer of a free meal. "Your bank account has already taken a considerabl
e hit because of me."
A shadow passed Kieran's face. "Very well. But I'm paying for the hotel tonight."
Olivia very much wanted to argue, but couldn't. Honestly, her bank account was so barren, her card might have already been declined.
The air around her and Kieran tightened. Talking about money was a minefield for them.
Right before everything had gone to shit and they'd been forced to run through the endless tunnels of Bolton Manor to save its residents from Emma, Olivia and Kieran had screamed at each other until they’d almost lost their voices.
She'd become an estate agent as a last desperate effort to pay off her monstrous student loans. He'd found out and paid off her debt, upwards of two-hundred thousand dollars.
Without telling her, a woman he'd met only a week ago.
Things had been tense ever since, no matter how hard they tried to ignore it.
For him, that money was nothing. Less than pocket change. For her, the gesture was everything—but she didn't want to go through life with him solving her issues.
But those were ugly thoughts, and Olivia had endured enough ugliness in the past week to last her a lifetime.
All that mattered right now was that she and Kieran had survived. They were safe and they were together, at least for another night. Before reality came crashing back in.
She had to go back to her job, in Leeds. He wouldn't rest until he hunted down the people who'd wanted to hurt his grandmother, the only relative who'd cared about him all his life.
"Shall we?" He got up and offered her his hand, the perpetual gentleman even as his eyes kept on roaming hungrily over her body.
Oh, the glorious things they promised. Olivia wanted them all.
Reality could wait until tomorrow. For now, they had one last wicked night together.
CHAPTER 2—FEARS
Something was tickling Olivia’s nose, slowly drawing her away from the best sleep of her life.
It couldn’t have been any furry companion—her crusty landlord had almost faked a heart attack when she'd asked him if pets were allowed—and her sheets were crisp and practical. No drowning in fabric in her bed, thanks, even if she could have afforded that higher, fluffier thread count.
Come to think of it, this bed was way too comfortable to have been hers. And her body ached too much to have been the result of a tense day at the office. As a real estate agent, the worst she got was jumping fences and climbing trellises whenever the owners forgot to leave the keys. But she hadn’t done that in a long, long time—
Olivia bolted upright, the pain from the wound on her arm shooting through her entire body as she reached for her retractable steel baton, resting on the nightstand.
She grasped her weapon, waving it aimlessly at the dark room. A chill ran down her spine as her frantic gaze ping-ponged to every corner of the room.
Nobody. Of course there wasn't anyone here.
Not even Kieran.
Right as they were checking into this glorious hotel, the hospital had called. His grandmother was asking to see him. He’d kissed Olivia quickly and rushed off, leaving her heated and wanting.
She knew he needed to go—Mrs. Bolton might have remembered something about the woman who'd tried to slowly kill her with the drug nobody at the hospital had yet to identify. Or, better yet, maybe she'd remembered some information about the mysterious man who'd hired the she-devil in the first place.
But Olivia missed Kieran's warmth. His hands around her shoulders, on the small of her back, circling her waist, reminding her they were safe now. They had survived.
Well, their bodies had. Olivia didn't know if her heart would make it through tonight.
She flopped back down on the fluffiest pillows her head had ever rested on, glaring at the bandages on her arm, where the she-devil had cut her.
The damn threads had come loose and scratched her face.
Somewhere down the hall from their room, an incessant clock was ticking. Olivia's heartbeat synced with it, as if the entire universe wanted to remind her the few hours she still had with Kieran were slowly slipping away.
She had to get to Leeds and her lackluster job. He had to fulfill his grandmother's wish and hunt down the man who'd tried to kill her, him, and Olivia. Without even getting his hands dirty or showing his face. Hell, Kieran had been looking for the guy for a year and he still didn't have a name.
So after tonight, Olivia and Kieran had to part. At least for a little while. Her finances were still drowning her and his guilt was eating him alive.
But just because she knew they had to part ways—temporarily, Olivia, you will see him again—that didn't mean she had to be happy about it.
Why couldn't she have fallen for a normal guy? One who lived in the same city as her, who didn't have any family drama or a job that basically amounted to being an international spy? For who or what organization, she still didn't know exactly.
She just knew Kieran was one of the good guys. Well, to be fair, it was more of a hope than a certainty.
Still, she could have chosen literally anybody else.
But nobody else had made her heart race like Kieran. Nobody else had understood her from just one glance. Nobody else had made her laugh like he had. Nobody else has driven her wild with a simple touch. A simple kiss.
Hell, even his stares made her want to just get lost with him, again and again and again.
But he wasn’t here. The bed was cold, and Olivia had done enough wallowing for one night.
Gritting her teeth, she jumped up, still a bit wobbly from her nap. She headed straight for the massive curtains and slid them to the side, revealing the gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows and the breathtaking view. The windows were tinted. They let Olivia watch the streets and river below, but didn’t allow onlookers a peek inside.
Little lights were starting to glimmer everywhere, the tops of trees illuminated in deep shades of orange and red from the sunset now barely peaking in the distance. Laughter melted in with glass clinks from the nearby pubs. Couples of all ages walked on the river's bank, some stopping to take photos of the setting sun.
And Olivia didn't have anyone to enjoy this view with.
She pressed her forehead against the window, running her hands along its smooth glass. Would she ever be able to afford windows like this? Hell, would she ever afford to buy a house or even a dingy apartment? A little place to call her own, where she could paint the kitchen blue, then switch it up to green a month later if she felt like it. A home where she could hang up a damn painting without begging her landlord for permission.
Not likely, but a girl could dream. And now, in Olivia's dreams, Kieran always made an appearance.
Dangerous thoughts to have when she didn't even know if she'd get to see him in a week. Or even tomorrow.
She pushed herself back, sliding her hand down the window one last time.
It didn't hurt to dream, did it?
She wasted full five minutes trying to get the gauze on her arm to cooperate. If Kieran would've been there, he would've taken care of it in five seconds flat, then peppered kisses all down her arm.
Then his lips would have trailed down her neck, ghosting across her collarbone, whispering against her skin until he drove her wild and—
She threw her hands in the air. "Okay, time for another shower."
Her third of the day. But no matter how hard she scrubbed or how much her skin reddened, she couldn't escape Bolton Manor's dust and grime. The memory of Emma digging the shard of glass into her arm, with that unnerving grin on her face.
If Kieran hadn't been there to save her, Olivia would’ve—
She grabbed her steel baton and marched right into the bathroom. Idiotic, of course. Emma was in police custody and Olivia was safe. But after spending a week at Bolton Manor, logic didn’t seem that foolproof anymore.
She stepped into the hot gust, the water soothing every sore muscle. She let it soak her hair, willing the memories to wash down the drain.
&n
bsp; But they kept haunting her mind. The fear. The shivers taking over her body. How helpless she’d felt until Kieran had appeared.
Once she got back to Leeds, she needed to look into taking some self-defense classes. She didn’t have money for them, but Maria, boss lady extraordinaire, had mentioned, more than once, that the real estate firm would pay for any and all expenses Olivia and Underwood needed to deal with the Bolton Manor aftermath.
Olivia definitely needed defense classes. And one of these amazing shower heads, because standing under it felt like dancing in the best summer rain of her life and didn't she deserve—
Olivia froze, eyes darting to the door. Someone was trying to get into the bathroom and trying to be very, very quiet about it.
CHAPTER 3—DANGEROUS
Olivia grabbed her baton from the fancy marble shower caddy. It was hard to see through the steam and the spackled shower door, but she could make out a shadow gliding into the bathroom.
Before logic could kick in, she raised the baton, the just as the shadow slid the shower door open.
Olivia swung. Her weapon didn't get very far.
Kieran blocked the blow a good arms-length from his face. He didn't even blink. He kept all his power and strength hidden underneath crisp shirts and suits that just begged to be ripped off him, but it was moments like these that reminded Olivia he was a very dangerous man.
"You really do want to take one of my eyes out, don’t you?" he asked, calm voice at odds with the concern marring his gorgeous face.
"I'm sorry," Olivia stuttered, lowering her arm and wobbling back until her back hit the shower wall. The hot water poured down her face and chest, but it couldn't stop her galloping heart. "I thought—"
What? That Emma had somehow escaped police custody—and Kieran's very dangerous associates, who were keeping a very close eye on her—managed to find Olivia, sweet-talked her way into getting the room key and came into this bathroom to finish the job?