Devil Mine: A Dark Cartel Romance (London Underworld Book 1)

“I-I can’t. I’m taking a dancing class.”

I’m aware it’s the most ridiculous thing I could have answered, but I’m frazzled beyond reason right now.

Embarrassment crawls up my torturously heated skin, my body still in riotous uproar at his deep, gravelly voice reading out my dream back to me.

He made me literally run out of Barcelona without looking back and I left half of my things behind. I realized my notebook was among them, but I never thought he’d find my apartment.

The acutely aroused look on his face as he read those words made it so much worse. He wasn’t making fun of me, no, his tongue caressed every word with intent, like he was promising he’d do everything I dreamed of.

“I’ll take you dancing.”

My heart lurches in response, a much more dangerous reaction than lust simply pooling between my legs.

“How will you find the time in your busy schedule of violence?”

“If we plan ahead, I’m sure I can easily slot it in between two murders without any disruption to my calendar,” he quips back drolly.

I roll my eyes, fighting the unwanted smile that tugs at my lips. He brings the scarf back up to his nose and inhales once more. There’s something effortlessly attractive about how turned on he is by my scent.

“If you’re too lazy to catch me, I’m not going to make it easy for you and simply give up.”

I’m not sure why I’m goading him.

“Ask me where I am, amor.”

He settles back into his chair, giving me a look at his entire torso once more. His shoulders are impossibly broad, his chest strong and defined leading into a tapered waist with rock hard abs. He’s so much more intimidating with his clothes off than on, every single inch of his body covered in tattoos.Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

It’s not at all my style. Prior to meeting him I would have said that I disliked tattoos, that my type was someone more clean cut and classic. But he’s a work of art, all rough edges and violence and menace. I want to run my hands from his shoulders down his chest and to that trail of hair leading to the happy land.

I’m completely losing a hold of myself, easily distracted by his body like some horny teenager.  At this point, I’m one more accidental eye-fucking away from slapping some sense into myself.

“Where are you?” I ask, absentmindedly, working to control myself.

“Rome.”

My eyes snap up to meet his. I’m trying to hide my reaction but I can feel the blood slowly seep from my face and I know I must go pale.

He doesn’t miss a thing, he never does.

“So you are still here,” he says. “I’ve spent a week looking for you, I was wondering if maybe you’d left. That’s good to know.”

How could he know where I am? I haven’t done anything differently, I’m still using the same cards and phone and emails from before. Nothing’s changed and yet he found my location.

I need to leave immediately.

“How’s Dagny?” he asks, like he can tell I’m about to hang up and run.

I snort. “Like you care.”

My mind is still racing, trying to figure out how he traced me. I’ve continued to do my job exactly like I would if I was still in London, except just doing it remotely. I was surprised when I never heard from my father, when he didn’t forbid me from working or lock my accounts, but I thought maybe he had bigger fish to fry. Now I’m wondering if that’s how Thiago traced me. I’ll need to talk to Wiz tomorrow and make sure I haven’t been detected. He would have told me if there was an obvious hack, but maybe one went undetected?

He huffs out a cold laugh. “You’re right, I don’t. It doesn’t pay to get attached in my line of work, people die every day.”

“Does it pay to be an unfeeling, hard-hearted asshole?”

He gives me a sharp smile. “I’m not burdened by trivial, unnecessary emotions. There are very few people I trust, even fewer I care about, less than the fingers I have on one hand. Everyone else is expendable to me. I already told you others will do whatever it takes for a chance at my status and power, and having too many people I care about is a vulnerability I can’t afford. Never forget that, especially when you take your place as my queen.”

“That sounds lonely,” I can’t help but say.

He thinks about it, I can see it in the way his jaw moves back and forth, mulling it over. When he looks back at me, his jawline has gone rigid.

“It is.”

I nod. “I get that.”

Our lives couldn’t be more different and yet it seems we’re connected by this one very obvious thing. A life that we’ve had to sacrifice a lot for, but that’s ultimately unfulfilling.

His gaze is inscrutable but intense on me.

“I have to go,” I say, my tone light. I find that I didn’t hate our conversation tonight, aside from the complete humiliation of him reading my journal. “I can’t be here now that I know you are.”

“Go dancing,” he says softly. Softer than I’ve heard him say anything. “Run again tomorrow. I won’t look for you tonight, I promise.”

I scoff. “Pff, do your promises mean anything?”

“They do. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

His gaze sweeps possessively over my face, warming my cheeks and igniting a low hum inside me. He really is gorgeous, a dark devil inexplicably fascinated by me.

“Why do you care if I go dancing?”

“Because you wrote about it in this,” he says, holding up that infernal journal to camera again. “I want to take dance lessons at night. It must be so magical to dance under the stars. I’ve never done it but it’s been on my bucket list forever,” he recites, seemingly from memory.

There’s a tension between us born from him quoting a wish of mine. It feels so intimate, him having access to pages in which I poured my heart out. It feels unfair that I wouldn’t get something similar in return.

“Do you know it by heart?” I say jokingly.

Dark eyes bore into mine.

“I’ve read it enough times.”

I blink. “Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that response. “Well, you need to give it back.”

“Okay,” he says, lips stretching into a grin. “Come and get it.” He outright laughs at the expression on my face. “I didn’t think so.” He places the notebook on his chest and it stays there as he bounces barely noticeably back and forth on his chair. “I will give it back once I have you. Until then, this is the best I can get of you so I’m keeping it.”

He remains unchanged in his fervent pursuit of me. I thought he’d give up long ago. Find a distraction elsewhere, find someone else. But he’s still here, seeking me out, chasing me.

Fighting for me.

No one’s ever fought for me before.

“Ahem,” I say, clearing the thick mass in my throat. “I’m going to go, otherwise I’ll be late. I’m trusting you to keep your promise,” I say, pointing at him.

I don’t know why I do. He called me foolish once and this is a foolish move, but something tells me to believe him.

“I will.”

“Bye then.”

He sits up abruptly.

“You’ll call again,” he orders. I open my mouth but before I can get a word out he says. “I can threaten you to get you to comply if you’d like.”

“Fine, I’ll call. You suck, you know that right?”

He chuckles, the muscles of his stomach moving hypnotically as the laughter leaves his lips. “So you keep telling me.”

“Bye, Thiago.”

“Bye, amor. Have sweet dreams of us tonight, I certainly will.”