Page 4 of Take Me Darkly

I couldn’t think when Anton was close. When his scent—an intoxicating blend of sandalwood, expensive bourbon, and pure, male heat—clouded my judgment and made my skin flush.

“I made coffee,” he offered quietly, gesturing toward the kitchen.

“Thank you.”

I uncurled my legs and stood up slowly, favoring my injured side as I moved toward the aroma of the dark roast. Even the small act of pouring my own cup felt like a desperate act of rebellion in a world where I had lost all control. My fingers wrapped around the warm porcelain mug, absorbing its heat as the steam filled my lungs. I would kill for a good Italian espresso but still welcomed the jolt of caffeine from the American brew.

“We need to talk,” I said finally, not looking at him.

“About what?”

“About what happens next, after I’m healed.” I turned, lifting my chin to lock eyes with him. “I can’t stay here forever, Anton.”

“We’ve already discussed this. You’re safe here,” he said slowly, his tone thick with leashed dominance. “I had to get you out of Italy. Someone tried to kill you.”

“What makes you so sure that I’m safe here?” I gestured wildly around the opulent apartment with its expensive furniture and modern art, wincing as heat flared in my shoulder. “Because from where I’m sitting, it feels like I’m still running. And my mother is still dead.”

“This is the safest place,” he growled, stepping closer, his eyes darkening with a flash of cold, possessive fear. “It’s arguably the most secure building in Manhattan. There are guards stationed everywhere. No one gets in without my permission and a thorough background check. Very few even know this place exists.”

A bitter, humorless laugh burst from my lips.

“Secure. Just like the background check you ran on me was only about ensuring your security—as if my privacy meant anything to you.” I aimed the truth like a dagger, wanting to draw blood. It was a low blow, but I didn’t care. It was still an unresolved issue between us, and I wanted him to know. “You investigated and manipulated me. Now you’re keeping me locked away like some precious object you’ve acquired, convincing yourself you have the right to dictate my life. I can’t even contact my friends to let them know I’m okay.”

My voice cracked on the last word as I pointed at the cellphone on the end table. It was a sleek, unfamiliar device that felt more like a symbol of captivity than connection. It wasn’t my phone. It wasn’t the phone with the scratches from dropped trowels and the smear of red clay still stuck beneath the outer case. It wasn’t the phone with my contacts, my memories, or my entire life inside it.

“You agreed to allow Zeke to destroy your old phone,” Anton reminded me, his voice maddeningly calm, though a vein throbbed violently at his temple.

“Because I had no choice!” I snapped, spilling a drop of hot coffee over my hand. “Dammit, Anton!”

The curse ripped from my chest. I rubbed my face with my hand, struggling to drag air into my tight lungs.

“Whoever targeted you could have used your cell signal to pinpoint your location, Serena.”

“I know the logic!” Grief finally broke through my wall of numbness, causing my eyes to well with tears.

“If you know, then why are you so angry?”

“I just hate technology. We made it so we don’t have to remember anything anymore—so we don’t write numbers down on scraps of paper or keep address books or memorize anything. And now… now I can’t contact a single person. I have a project management team in Rome. I just left them hanging. Then there’s Caterina. Madeleine…” My throat tightened. Even saying their names hurt. “They’re probably worried out of their minds. They must have seen the headlines. To them, it must seem like I just… vanished. I have no way to tell them I’m okay. No way to tell them I’m not lying dead in a morgue somewhere. And it’s because I didn’t memorize a single goddamn number. Not one.”

The confession left me trembling, exposed and hollowed out. Given everything that had happened, a cell phone should have been the least of my concerns. But not having it made me feel more alone than I’d ever felt in my entire life.

Anton took a step toward me, closing the distance between us in two long, lethal strides. Something flickered in his dark eyes. It was regret mixed with anguish, raw and unguarded for just a moment. With Anton, it was hard to tell what he was feeling. He often kept his emotions locked away behind impassive expressions, but I was learning to read the micro-expressions that slipped through his careful control.

“I’m working on finding the bastards responsible for this,” he said, rather than address my accusations or concerns. “Zeke has every resource running⁠—”

“Why can’t we just call the police?” I interrupted, my frustration reaching its peak.

“Serena, the people who shot you set your home on fire and murdered your mother—and they may have also killed your father. Right now, we suspect it’s the Serpent’s Disciples. What we know about them may be limited, but we know they’ve infiltrated law enforcement. You need to let me handle this.”

“I don’t want you to handle it for me!” I burst out, my chest heaving as I planted my palm against his solid chest, feeling the heavy, thunderous beat of his heart beneath his shirt. “I want to be part of it! I want to understand what happened and why. I want to look into the eyes of whoever took my mother from me and make them bleed!”

Anton’s breath hitched at the fire in my voice. He reached out as if to comfort me, but I shifted back, shaking my head.

“Don’t you dare try to comfort me,” I spat, tears spilling over my lashes, hot and bitter against my cheeks. “If I hadn’t been so naive—if I hadn’t been so consumed by our stupid thirty-day arrangement and your money—I might have seen the warning signs. If I hadn’t been wrapped up in you, I would have been at the house that night with her. I could have saved her!”

“Then you would have died with her!”

The words roared from his throat, raw, tortured, and brutal. That brutal honesty hit me like a punch to the gut. My breath caught, and for a moment, the room tilted, knowing he was right.