Edge of Darkness Box Set

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Edge of Darkness Box Set Page 10

by Margaret McHeyzer


  “Want me to come over and help you? Pick an outfit out for you?”

  NO! “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll find something.”

  The bell sounds for the start of the school day, and I breathe out a huge sigh. Phew, saved by the bell. “Promise me, you’ll tell me everything that happens on your date.”

  “I will.”

  “Have you kissed him yet?” she asks as we hang around the front door. Kristen’s class is three doors down, and my teacher hasn’t arrived yet.

  “Not yet.”

  Kristen smiles at me. “Yay! You have to tell me how the first kiss goes too. If he’s sweet and gentle, or more the take-charge kinda guy.”

  The little I know of Edgar, I reckon he’s the latter. More alpha and take-charge. “Okay, I promise I’ll tell you.”

  “See you at lunch,” she says before turning to head into her classroom.

  I make my way into mine, sit at the back and take my phone out of my pocket. There’s already a message there. It’s from Edgar. Thinking of you getting dressed up for me.

  I can’t help but smile. I do want to look nice for him. I want him to look at me and think I’m sexy.

  I open YouTube, lower the volume so it’s on silent, and begin to search for smoky eye tutorials. My English teacher enters the class, and starts today’s lesson. I keep flicking between what she’s saying, and how to do the smoky eye effect.

  I’m going to look hot for Edgar tonight, I hope he appreciates it.

  Chapter 10

  “Wow, you look beautiful, sweetheart,” Mom says as I make my way out to the family room, where she’s sitting at the table with her laptop opened. “Where are you off to?”

  “I have a date,” I proudly announce.

  She stares at me, blinking. “A date? Who with?”

  “His name is Braydon, and he goes to college. He studies something to do with astronomy.” That lie rolled off the tongue like silk. Easily.

  “Do I get to meet him?”

  Panic rolls through me, I don’t want her to meet Edgar. Not yet. Maybe soon, maybe never. He’s not exactly the type of guy who I can introduce to my parents. “Probably not today. It’s just our first date. Maybe next time?” My heart thumps inside my chest, beating crazily, waiting for Mom’s reply.

  “Okay,” she slowly says. “But next time, I want to meet him. Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. He said dinner. We might go see a movie too. I have no idea what he has planned for me.”

  Mom’s eyes narrow, she looks way more suspicious now. “Make sure you keep your phone on you.”

  “I will.”

  “And call me if anything happens, and I’ll come pick you up straight away.”

  “I will.”

  “And your curfew is eleven.”

  “Mom, eleven? Can we make it twelve?”

  “Eleven.” She holds firm.

  “Mom, how often do I ask you to break the curfew of eleven? And not to mention, how often do I actually break the curfew myself. Never. Please, just this once?” I plead.

  Mom’s eyes are boring into mine. “Only this once.”

  “Yay! Thank you, Mom.” I lean down to give her a kiss, but I’m careful not to smudge my lipstick.

  “Who taught you how to do that?” she asks as she makes a circular motion with her finger around my face.

  “YouTube taught me. It’s basic, but I like it.”

  “You look so much older than seventeen.”

  My phone rings from my room, and I run in to get it. “Hello,” I answer, knowing it’s Edgar because his name flashed up on the screen.

  “I’m running a few moments late, wait for me outside.”

  “Okay,” I reply and hang up. I tuck my phone and ATM card into my back pockets of the jeans I’m wearing, although they’re so tight I’m not sure there’s any room for anything to go in my pockets. When I get back out to the family room, Mom’s rubbing her temples as she stares at the computer. “Everything okay?” I ask.

  Mom looks up, frazzled that I caught her in such a stressful moment. “Just balancing our bank account.” She smiles, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hang on.” She pushes up from the chair, and walks over to her bag. “Here you go. Do you need more?” She hands me two twenty-dollar bills.

  “It’s okay. I still have the money from my birthday that Gran gave me.”

  “Don’t use your birthday money. Save that for something you really want.”

  “Mom, she gave me five hundred dollars. I don’t want anything. It’s okay.”

  “Just take it, I’ll feel better knowing you have cash on you if anything happens.”

  “Mom,” I let her title out in more like a whine. “I don’t need it.” Not after I saw her stress from trying to balance the family bank account. And knowing about Dad.

  “Take it.” She’s persistent.

  “Okay, I will. But if I don’t use it, I’ll give it back to you.”

  “Deal.” She gives me a more genuine smile.

  I hug Mom, then I hear a beep from outside. “I’m going to go, okay?” I ask as I head toward the door.

  “Okay.” Mom follows, and when I reach the door, I give Mom another hug, then jog out the front.

  “Bye Mom.” I wave to her, as I turn to see the bodyguard standing with the door open. “Thank you,” I say as I slide in the back. I’m met with silence from him. How unusual. Edgar isn’t in the car. I’m in the back by myself. The bodyguard gets in the front, and I stare at him. “Where’s Edgar?” I ask.

  “He’s waiting for you,” the bodyguard replies.

  “Where?”

  Nothing.

  I text Edgar. Where are you?

  At the restaurant, waiting for you. His reply comes within seconds.

  Which restaurant?

  You’ll see when you get here.

  It’s very mysterious, and quite intriguing and sexy. He’s waiting for me. And I have no idea where I’m going. It’s a rush. Thrilling and exciting. My stomach churns with anticipation. I’m hoping he does something romantic for me. Maybe he’s bought me flowers, or maybe perfume. Man, how sweet would that be if he did something so perfect to try sweep me off my feet?

  The huge smile on my face is an accurate portrayal of how I’m feeling. I’m giddy with anticipation.

  The car travels fairly fast, taking me to Edgar quickly. Nervously, I wait to see what super romantic and beautiful gesture he’s going to surprise me with. I’m sure, beneath that hard exterior is a man who’s gentle and loving.

  Time seems to drag on, but finally we reach a quiet street a few suburbs over from where I live. There are some cars parked, and the street is lined with young trees still growing to maturity. There’s a lot of noise coming from about a hundred feet down the street. “Mr. Zaro is waiting for you.” My bodyguard leads me to where he is.

  I have to step down about ten steps, into a small, intimate restaurant. There’s no name on the door. Nothing identifying it as a restaurant except for the delicious aromas, tables, and waiters. I see Edgar almost immediately. He’s sitting in a booth at the back. He stands the moment he sees me. He’s dressed in a tailored suit, his hair slicked to the side. He looks so hot. He could easily grace the cover of any scorching romance novel about a hot CEO. My mouth waters, and I become even sillier with excitement.

  “Look at you.” He holds his hand out to me, stands back and eyes me up and down. “You don’t disappoint, Hannah. I knew I made a good choice in you.”

  That feels somewhat weird. Like I’m the prime cut of beef. “Thank you,” I say carefully trying to decipher what he actually means.

  “Umm-hmm.” He licks his lips and stares at my body. “You know I want to fuck you,” he says brashly. He certainly doesn’t mince his words.

  “I…ah…” My shoulders slump forward. I’m not really sure how to respond to his crude words.

  Thankfully, a waiter arrives, looks at me, and smiles. “What can I get for you?” His eyes are on me, a
nd he’s staring. This gives me mixed feelings. I’m uncomfortable because Edgar is sitting right next to me, but it also gives me confidence that I’m sultry and sexy.

  “Um, I’m not sure,” I say and look to Edgar for help.

  He’s staring at me, and at the guy. He’s amused. I thought he’d be mad, but he’s not. “She’ll have a champagne, I’ll have a whisky.” Edgar flips his hand at the waiter to leave. The waiter looks at Edgar, and leaves, but not before turning around and staring at me again. “He was staring at you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” I say.

  “I like how he was staring at you.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “It means he wants you.” He nibbles on his lips, and my eyes go straight to his mouth. I swallow the lump and catch myself drooling at Edgar. His lips are plump and firm, and all I want to do is kiss them.

  “Okay,” I say after a few seconds. “But I can’t drink champagne. I’m not twenty-one.”

  Edgar laughs. “You don’t have to be twenty-one to have a bit of fun.”

  One glass of champagne can’t hurt. “Only one,” I say.

  “That’s all you’ll need.” The waiter arrives quite quickly with Edgar’s whisky, and my champagne. He gives Edgar a nod and backs away quickly, not making eye contact with me again. “To us,” Edgar says as he holds his glass up and waits for me to pick my flute up.

  “To us.” We clink the glasses together.

  “I’ve gone ahead and ordered for you, I hope that’s okay.”

  Drinking my champagne, a few bubbles get up my nose and makes it tingle. “It’s very tart,” I say about the champagne. “And thank you, for ordering for me.”

  “I’m sure you’ll enjoy what I have for you. Drink up.” He picks up my champagne flute and hands it to me the moment I place it on the table.

  “I haven’t had dinner yet. I don’t want to get drunk and make a fool out of myself.” I put the glass back on the table without taking a sip of it.

  “Tell me about your friend Kristen,” he asks, as he finishes his whisky off in one smooth motion.

  “Wait… how do you know about Kristen?”

  “I know about everything. Just tell me about her.”

  It really doesn’t surprise me. “She’s my best friend. And has been for a long time. She comes from a big family, and she usually likes hanging out at my place, because well… I’m an only child.”

  “Why didn’t your parents have any more kids?” He seems genuinely interested.

  “Mom nearly died giving birth to me. She has this condition, which is really rare. It’s called placenta accreta.”

  “What is it?”

  “The placenta attaches itself too deeply on the uterus wall, and instead of coming out after the baby–me—is born, they have to try to remove it. Mom nearly died when she was giving birth to me. Apparently, it’s rare. Only a small percent of the female population has it. Mom’s lucky. She nearly died; thank God she didn’t.”

  “Is it hereditary?”

  “Why, you planning on me becoming pregnant?” I chuckle and roll my eyes.

  “No!” he says with more force than he normally would. “I just want to make sure you can’t die.”

  “I have no intentions of having kids until later. Waaaaaaaaay later. After college, later.”

  He smirks at me like what I’ve said is something he approves of. “You don’t want any?” he asks while indicating to the waiter to bring him another drink.

  “It’s not like I don’t want them. Actually, I haven’t really considered them. They’re not on the top of my priority list. I want to go to college first. That’s what I’m working hard on.”

  “Hmm,” he approvingly snorts.

  I crinkle my nose. That’s weird. But then again, there’s nothing about this that’s not weird.

  The waiter brings over another whisky for Edgar, and another champagne for me. “Ah, no thank you.” My parents will kill me if I come home drunk.

  “One more won’t hurt,” Edgar says as he flicks his hand to the waiter, leaving both beverages on the table.

  “Well, yeah it will. Just this one is making me a bit light headed, if I have two, then it might make me drunk. And I have no intentions on going home intoxicated.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I mean, don’t go home. Stay with me tonight.” He’s deadly serious. There’s no humor in his face. Nothing says… “just kidding.” His dark eyes bore into me, and his lips are pressed into a thin line. He’s staring at me as if he’s expecting an answer. “So?” he asks, waiting for my reply.

  “So… what?” I shake my head, not believing he actually thinks I’m going to say “yes” to such a ludicrous question.

  “Stay with me.”

  “Let me think. Do I stay with you and die a slow painful death at my parents’ hands? Or do I go home at midnight, sober, and live to breathe another day? Hmm, hard choice. Not!”

  “I’m taking that smart-ass reply as a no, you don’t want to spend the night with me?” His jaw tightens, and he turns his head away from me.

  “I’m afraid so, Edgar. This is a first date. If I do that I can tell you, this will also be a last date. My parents would be going insane. Actually, they would be beyond angry if I showed up tomorrow after spending the night with a man they have no idea about.”

  “Then move in with me,” he casually says with a shoulder shrug.

  I rub my temples, suddenly feeling a little light headed. “What?” I ask and look at the first flute of champagne to discover I’ve drunk all of it.

  “Move in with me. I have an apartment near here, you can stay there.”

  Staring at him, I cock my head to the side. Huh? Is this guy serious? My fingers start tapping on the table, and suddenly the light-headedness is lifted and everything becomes much more focused and clearer. My leg bounces up and down beneath the table, making me move on the bench seat. “Um, no, I won’t move in with you. I barely know you. And, there’s the whole ‘you’re a drug dealer’ thing too.” I laugh at my own joke, a little too loud. Some of the other diners turn to look at me, then continue with their dinner.

  “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Edgar asks.

  “No!” I shout, again too loud. “But I feel really energetic. Like I can’t sit still. My leg is going crazy.” I lift the crisply ironed tablecloth to show Edgar how my leg is bouncing. “I might um… ” I look toward outside. “I think I just need to walk this off. Give me a minute, I’ll be back before our food arrives.”

  Edgar smiles at me. “Here, have a sip of your drink.” He holds out the second champagne flute, offering it to me.

  I don’t think I should take it, but my mouth is really dry. I need something to drink. I have a sip, just one little one, and then make my way out. My head is focused, and my legs are jittery. I think I have nervous energy. The whole ‘move in with me’ suggestion has spooked me. How bizarre! Edgar is weird. Like, who asks someone to move in with them on the first date?

  Looking down toward the end of the street, I decide to go for a quick walk to burn off this nervousness. What’s going on with me? Why am I so jittery? It has to be the ‘move in’ thing. Edgar is full-on, and doesn’t like to take “no” for an answer. But he’s going to have to accept it. I’m not staying the night, and I’m not moving in with him.

  Before I know it, I’m at the end of the street and I still feel a buzz of adrenaline humming through me. “I should turn back,” I say to myself. But my feet have other plans. They keep going.

  The fresh night air should be making me chilly, but I’m so wound up that I can’t feel the cold. I’m hot and strangely alive. Every nerve ending is awake and tingling with excitement. An unfamiliar feeling takes over my body, but it’s so strong I can’t do anything but act upon it.

  I’m damned horny. So horny that I need to get back to Edgar right now.

  My feet turn, and I break into a run back to the restaurant.


  I don’t know why I’m so lustful. I feel like I’m oversexed, starving for him, absolutely thirsting to have him devour me.

  The moment I get back to the restaurant, I notice two things. One, is the number of men in here and the total absence of any women except me. Something about this turns me on even more.

  The other thing I notice is Edgar, sitting back, his left arm up over the back of the booth, staring at the door waiting for me. He’s nursing another whisky, and I see a new champagne flute sitting beside the previous two. Both of those are empty. Wait, did I consume them both?

  “Here she is,” he says with a sexy grin.

  My heart hammers with a stuttering jump. Man, he’s so sexy. “Hey,” I say as I sit beside him. But I need to get closer. I push the table back slightly, and crawl up on his lap, straddling him.

  Lowering my head, I kiss him hard. My mouth overtakes his, and he lets out a sensual groan, that travels to every part of my body. I feel so alive. I crawl up closer to him. I can feel his erection pressing into me. Grinding on him, I try to find the friction I desperately need. “Slow down,” he whispers. His hands snake up my back. The warmth coming from his hands is making me crazy.

  “I want you,” I say as I look into his dark eyes.

  “We’re going,” he says, picking me up as he stands. “Wrap your legs around me,” he commands.

  Everything inside me is heightened. Every sense is overloaded with a crazy urgency I’ve never felt before. My sense of smell is craving more of Edgar’s aroma. My sense of touch is tingling, eagerly awaiting a lick of his tongue, a brush of his warm hand. God, it’s like I’m buzzing.

  He carries me out to his car. The back door is already open. My bodyguard stands beside it, looking somewhat amused.

  The hunger I feel for Edgar is staggering. I’ve never been so turned on, so horny, in my life. It feels like with every passing moment, my need for him intensifies.

  The moment we’re in the car, I straddle his hips again, this time rocking even harder. I can feel his arousal. He’s getting bigger. And my God, do I want him right now. I attack his mouth, kissing him voraciously. My lips actually hurt from how hard I’m pressing against his mouth. Edgar’s hands are all over my body. Under my shirt, on my breasts. He’s pulling down my bra, and painfully playing with my nipples. It hurts, but the hurt feels amazingly good. Something I could definitely get used to.

 

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