Dark Steel

by Fable Gray

  My phone buzzed. I knew it was Xander. I ignored it.

  My body ached like it missed something…missed his closeness. Or his touch. Or…

  I groaned. What the fuck was wrong with me? I didn’t even know this guy. I’d spent maybe a total of ten hours with him the whole time I’d known him and half of those were spent in silence or with me trying to trick him.

  There was nothing between us.

  But there was something between us. Something that made me look for him every time I came in. That made me dream about him at night and wait for his texts in the hours before sleep.

  The elevator released me to the top floor. I waved at Brittany but turned in the opposite direction to Tim’s office.

  He was already inside, hard at work just like Declan.

  “Hey,” I said, stopping in his doorway.

  He looked up with a smile. “Hey. Glad it’s Friday?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Yeah…” He scrubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “Me too.”

  “Tell me you don’t have to work weekends, too.”

  “Have to? No. But will I?” He peered at a stack of papers. “Actually, you’ve caught me up on so much, I might get a break.”

  “I have the whole day ahead of me, so I can help with the rest.”

  “Good.” He caught me up on what he was working on, giving me enough to keep me busy until at least lunchtime.

  I started to leave, then angled back. “Tim?”

  “Yes?” he asked without looking up from the computer.

  “Is there an office I’m supposed to be working in?” His eyebrows furrowed, so I continued. “I mean, do interns usually work in—in another office somewhere? They’re not usually in with Mr. Dark all the time, right?”

  He looked up with his hands poised over the keyboard. “He said it was fine for you to work in there. It has the best view.”

  “Oh.” I flashed a smile. “Sure. Right. I…okay, off to work.”

  He was typing away before I was even out of the room, feeling even more confused than I had on the ride up.

  I walked numbly to Declan’s office, a place I’d actually grown comfortable in. It did have a good view. It was one of my favorite things about coming to work. But that didn’t mean I had to take over his office.

  Was he letting me stay in there to be nice? I figured it was just because he wanted to keep an eye on me to make sure I wasn’t fucking anything up.

  But he wasn’t even in there with me anymore. And again, today it was empty.

  So…what the hell?

  If he was simply being nice, it didn’t make sense. Less than ten minutes ago he’d basically snubbed me getting off the elevator.

  I sat at the table, facing the windows like I always did. And, like it always did, time flew.

  I took breaks here and there to add to the project, but mostly I just finished the work Tim needed to get done. If I wasn’t going to get any information from Declan, or about Declan, I might as well at least help Tim have a good weekend.

  I worked through lunch, taking off my jacket so I could move more freely. I placed phone calls for Tim and then answered more emails.

  I barely noticed when someone came in and jumped when I heard a voice.

  “Still working?”

  I turned around, my heart in my throat. I’d freaked out thinking it might be Declan, but it was just Tim.

  “Uh… I was just finishing up,” I told him.

  He pointed to the clock. “It’s five.”

  I nodded. “I know.” No, I didn’t. “I wanted to make sure to get those emails done for you.”

  “Samantha,” he said, exasperation and gratitude in his voice. “I can finish it.”

  “No way. I’m almost done. And you can go home. You can go home, right?”

  He laughed. “If my work is done, I can go home.”

  “Then consider it done,” I told him. “Only a few more to go and then I’m out of here.”

  Tim nodded. “Okay. I owe you one.”

  “It’s not a problem. Go before you change your mind. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  He thanked me again and left the office. I wasn’t sure why I said “see you on Monday” since I’d been swearing I was going to quit every day for the last four days, but I’d said it.

  And dammit, I’d meant it.

  “Finish your emails before you start analyzing why you’re such a weirdo,” I told myself.

  So I did. I finished them, then stood and checked the clock. Almost six.

  Clouds had moved in over the mountains, dimming the room and making it feel later than it was.

  Making me feel alone.

  I didn’t mind it the rest of the time because I turned on music, or had the view, or got funny texts from Xander. But now it just felt dark and cold.

  I missed having someone else in here with me.

  I sighed and stretched my arms high above my head. When I turned to get my jacket off the back of the chair, I gasped.

  Declan stood in the doorway, his face unreadable.

  “You’re still here,” he said, voice rough.

  I tried to infuse cheerfulness into my voice. “Just getting ready to leave.”

  He ventured a few controlled steps into the room. “You were off at five.”

  I frowned. Well, it wasn’t like I was milking him for his money. I was just finishing my job.

  I jerked my jacket off the chair and tried to keep my voice neutral. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to pay me for it. I was just trying to finish something so it didn’t carry over until next week.”

  I put my jacket over my arm and snagged my purse off the table.

  “Right. Tim told me,” Declan said, putting his hands in his pockets and lowering his chin so he was staring at his shoes. “He said you did every single task he gave you and caught him up on over a week of work.”

  I sighed. “It’s my job.”

  Declan looked up, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth though there was little humor in it. In fact, he just looked…stressed. Worn out. His jaw was lined with stubble, making it look like he hadn’t slept in days.

  But his eyes were still sharp.

  “Your job,” he repeated, moving a few steps closer. “Not exactly. And neither was the project.” He pointed to the folder I’d put together on the table. “I looked at it last night.”

  I opened my mouth, surprised. Then angry. “I didn’t know it was off-limits—”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  I rubbed a hand on my cheek with another sigh. “You wanted my opinion before. I had some ideas. I wrote them down. I won’t make that mistake again. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home.”

  I strode across the room, having to pass close enough to him to get to the door that I could smell his cologne. He smelled of cedar and secrets, of hikes in the woods and nights by a warm fire.

  I reached out to grab the handle, but suddenly his hand was over mine. The strength in his fingers surprised me, but the press of his body against my back shocked me even more.

  His breath touched my cheek when he spoke again. “Don’t go yet. I’d like to talk.”

  Chapter 13

  My breath eased out in a quiet hiss as my heart pounded out of control. Heat emanated from his body, encasing me in a bubble of warmth.

  My mind blanked. The only thing I could think of was how good it felt to have him this close. And the rest was all sensation. My hand tingled under his, thighs quivered when his breath touched my neck, and all the while, warmth pooled between my legs and fueled a devastating ache for him.

  I turned around slowly. Instead of stepping back, Declan kept his position directly in front of me, making it necessary to tilt my chin to see his eyes. They were the shade of the warmest ocean, shadowed under storm clouds.

  Seemingly against my will, my gaze dropped to his lips. They parted just slightly, and it nearly killed me.

  He’d said he wanted to talk, but right n
ow it looked like talking was the last thing on his mind.

  He cupped his fingers behind my neck and used his thumb to brush my cheekbone before sliding it across my bottom lip. My body trembled.

  “I think…” Declan said, his voice as smooth as velvet, “…an understanding might help this situation.”

  “What kind of understanding?” I breathed.

  His jaw clenched. His eyes flicked to mine and then dropped to my mouth, hunger flashing in their depths.

  Then he moved in, mouth locking on mine. He used his thumb to tip my chin up, giving him better access to my mouth.

  My brain short-circuited. I should have been asking myself what the hell was going on, or even stopping him, but instead, I got lost in the moment.

  I dropped my jacket and purse, barely registering when it hit the floor next to me, so I could place my hands on his chest. Under the layers of clothes that separated us, I felt planes of muscle that jumped beneath my hands as he lifted his free hand to prop on the door next to my head.

  It kept his body inches from touching me all the way down, teasing me in a way I’d never felt before.

  His tongue plundered, driving deep inside my mouth and making me moan softly. He responded by tracing his finger down my jaw to my neck and then trailing it the length of my arm.

  I shivered and my hands clenched tight on the material of his expensive jacket.

  “Samantha,” he murmured.

  It was the first time he’d said my name—no, my fake name. And suddenly my brain kicked on. He had no idea who I was. And I was filming him.

  My heart lurched when I remembered the bumblebee camera. Then relief flooded me when I remembered that it was on my jacket, which was in a heap next to us on the floor.

  When I straightened, my body going stiff against the door, Declan’s hand tightened on my arm. His eyes locked on mine, the irises dilated.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s—it’s…” I fumbled for the right words. I didn’t want him to stop, didn’t want to be tethered to this game I’d gotten myself into, but I was here for a reason. And there were cameras. And I couldn’t think straight with his hands and mouth on me.

  “Was that the kind of understanding you were looking for?” I asked.

  To my relief, he took a step back. He straightened his jacket and absently reached up to smooth his tie.

  His eyes were still cloudy with desire, as mine must be as well. It was a turn-on for sure, but my brain wouldn’t let me go that route again.

  “Are—are there cameras in here?” I asked.

  It was a reasonable question since I’d been filming him at every turn. I hadn’t been smart enough to think of bringing another one or two to place around this office. At this point, I was grateful I hadn’t—we really would have given Xander a show. But you could bet your ass in the future I’d be recording everything that went on in this office.

  A twinge of guilt hit me. I was invading his privacy and lying to him.

  He lied to the police, my brain said in response.

  The question seemed to flick a switch in Declan. He was immediately composed, looking like he’d just woken up for the day, and was deliciously polished and ready for business.

  “You’re right,” Declan said. “This isn’t the place for this.”

  “For—for what?” I watched as he scooped my jacket and purse off the floor and handed them over.

  “A conversation.”

  He still wanted to talk? I thought the kiss was the understanding, the knowledge that there was some unspoken attraction between us. Now we’d acknowledged it and…what?

  Before I could move, Declan gripped my elbow and turned me to the door. “Let me take you to dinner.”

  My mouth opened in surprise. “But—”

  “You didn’t eat lunch.”

  How did he know that? Had Tim told him or were there cameras in here? Dammit, I’d talked with Xander a few times too. But I hadn’t revealed anything secret, had I?

  Panicked thoughts raced through my head. If Declan knew something about me, knew I was a fake somehow, the last thing I needed to be doing was going somewhere with him.

  But Declan didn’t release me, only guided us out of the office and to the elevator.

  His grip was like iron, strong enough I couldn’t pull away without a fight but gentle enough not to bruise.

  “De—Mr. Dark,” I said, my voice hard. “I should be getting home.”

  “There are things that need to be said.”

  The elevator doors opened, and he led us inside. When they shut again, it was silent. The slither of anxiety in my gut warred with the way my body was still reacting to him, the echo of my heartbeat right between my legs.

  Once the elevator hit the lobby, Declan released my elbow. And instead, he settled his hand on the small of my back, guiding me instead of pulling me.

  My shallow breaths grew deeper. In all likelihood, he simply wanted to have a conversation about what had happened in his office.

  And in that case, it was in my best interest my play along. I couldn’t deny I was attracted to Declan. But I couldn’t convince myself it was wise to get involved with someone I couldn’t be honest with. And someone, if given the chance, probably wouldn’t be honest with me.

  Outside the lobby doors, I was able to breathe deeply. The evening air hit my lungs, clean and fresh, beckoning me.

  “Miss Thompson,” Declan said, gesturing to a black Bentley parked at the curb.

  I kept silent as he opened the door for me and hopped in the back, sitting close enough he could reach out and touch me.

  His long, elegant fingers rested on his knees, tapping to a slow beat I couldn’t hear.

  “Do you like Italian?” Declan asked.

  “It’s my favorite,” I told him honestly.

  Maybe because of my mom’s spaghetti. Maybe because it was the only thing I could cook at home.

  “Good.” Declan’s eyes scanned my face for another brief moment, making me certain he had something else to say.

  It was driving me crazy trying to guess.

  But then he looked away. In ten minutes, we pulled in front of Russo’s. When I stepped out of the car, I put on my jacket.

  The bumblebee pin was still pinned tightly to the lapel, giving the world—or more specifically Xander—the view of my sudden change in plans.

  I was surprised he hadn’t texted me yet. Or maybe he had and I’d been so caught up in kissing I hadn’t heard my phone.

  Either way, he was going to get a surprise. Dinner and a show, I thought wryly.

  Declan placed his hand on my back again and ushered me inside.

  It was Friday night, with the valet service hopping and people still walking in off the street under the false impression that they might get a table.

  “Mr. Dark,” the hostess said, smiling warmly enough a twinge of jealousy raced through me.

  He only nodded.

  She kept her eyes only on him as she led the way, asking about his day and engaging in polite conversation.

  She stopped at a table near the back, something quiet and secluded, that had to be in high demand. Had he already had a reservation? Or did they just keep tables available for A-list customers who might happen to drop by unannounced?

  “This will do, thank you,” Declan said. He pulled out my chair for me, fingers brushing my arms as I slid in, and waited until I was seated to move around to the other side of the table.

  “Your waiter will be right with you,” the hostess said before leaving us.

  Our table sat in the corner, offering views through the windows of both the mountains and the city. The sun hovered just behind those peaks, giving us an amazing show of dazzling orange and red.

  Declan reached across the table, catching the ends of my hair between his fingertips. “Your hair looks red in this light.”

  My breath caught. His sapphire eyes held mine, suspending me in the moment. Holding me captive and making me question ev
erything I’d thought about Declan to this point.

  A voice broke the reverie. “Good evening, Mr. Dark.”

  I straightened, shaken, and automatically reached for the menu when I saw the waiter. And then it happened. A complete accident.

  I lifted the menu, caught the edge of a fragile wine glass, and sent it crashing to the floor.

  It shattered at the waiter’s feet. Mortified, I scrambled out of my seat.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

  “Leave it,” Declan began, but I ignored him.

  The waiter bent down at the same time Declan crouched in front of me. He reached out to stop me from collecting the glass and his breath hissed in when a sharp shard sliced his palm.

  “Declan,” I gasped.

  “Sir,” the waiter said. “Did you cut yourself?”

  Declan gave a tight smile. “No. I’m fine.”

  “But—” I started.

  He shook his head. “It’s fine,” he insisted, catching my gaze and giving me a purposeful look. One that warned me to keep my mouth shut.

  “We’ll take care of this,” the waiter assured me.

  Declan caught my elbow and lifted me to my feet even as I started to protest again. His fingers squeezed my arm.

  My heart pounding, I refrained from saying anything until the waiter had left in search of a broom.

  “You cut your hand,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Then show me.” I reached for him, startled when he snatched his hand away, keeping it in a tight fist.

  Anger coursed through me. I was done with whatever game we were playing.

  “Show me,” I insisted, “or I will swear to that waiter, and then the manager, that you cut yourself. I saw the blood.”

  He cursed under his breath. “Whatever you think you saw—”

  “What I know I saw,” I told him.

  “Don’t do this.”

  “I’ll make a scene,” I warned him.

  His jaw clenched and then he lifted his hand. He opened his fist to reveal his palm, a smooth unmarred surface save for a small smear of dried blood.

  Like he hadn’t been touched at all.

  I looked up, my mouth open in shock. I’d thought so many things. Sure, I’d joked about how fast he was, and joked about him having superhero powers, but this…