Page 15 of My Dark Divine
West truly wanted to hurt me; his anger was more than just a feeling—it was a palpable force that practically radiated from him. He was beyond furious, like a true psychopath, ready to murder me despite the cameras and the fact that we still had to work together.
But I know he was seconds away from kissing me. I can still feel the heat of his lips against mine when I touch them. So why did he want it? He could have kept his distance and tortured me in other ways, yet he kept edging closer and closer, as if drawn to me by some magnetic force. The things he said about Eli revealed a jealousy that broke through the veil of his hatred, complicating everything between us.
It sounds absurd when I say it out loud, considering we’ve done nothing but the worst to each other, always seizingopportunities to display our mutual disgust. He could’ve slapped me or spit in my face, but what he did felt almost… passionate.
Intimate.
I know what it’s like when someone hates you and wants to inflict pain simply out of fury. I lived through that with my ex-husband, who loved turning me into his punching bag whenever it suited him. But with West, it felt different. It’s as if he wanted to hurt me yet sought something positive to emerge from it—for both of us.
And the fucker succeeded because I feel just like him. I feel aroused. I keep shifting from foot to foot, aware of the warmth pooling between my legs, seeping through the fabric of my panties.
This is sick. He is sick. And now I feel sick, too.
It’s a perverse kind of pleasure that borders on unreal, blended with pain—an explosive combination that can’t lead to anything good. His violence spreads through me like a poisonous flower, its roots wrapping around my insides, slowly killing me.
That eye contact held me captive in a way I’ve never experienced before. No one has ever looked at me the way West does, with a gleam that flares with the same intensity each time, as if he’s trying to peer into my soul to find the answers I’ll never give him.
I swallow hard, feeling a lump in my throat as my tremors begin to subside. I try to shake off the memories, but it’s futile; they keep surging through my mind, each one more intimate than the last.
The details that become almost invisible when I’m not trulylookingat him always overwhelm me as I get closer. They take my breath away and send butterflies fluttering through my stomach, and now, I feel it all over again. The stubble prickling his chiseled jawline, the slight crook of his nose from past fights,and those dustyfuckingfreckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, which make him look far younger than he is... All of this creates such artistry that he resembles a work of art more than a living human being.
And his scent—it feels like it’s burned into me, seeping into my pores—masculine, woodsy, and something uniquely his.
Every single thing about him turns me into a fucking puddle, sending a reminder that I need tattooed on my forehead—Ican’tallow myself to get so close to him. He sucks the energy out of me from a distance, but up close, it’s ten times worse.
He’s a perfectly imperfect image of an evil man, a beast as ruthless as he looks. I’ve always known he wasn’t okay, but after experiencing his insanity firsthand, all I want is to run far away and never see him again.
I want to flee because he feels eerilysimilarto me. I can sense that something has shaped him into this angry storm—something that irrevocably broke him in the past and now threatens to destroy everything he touches.
And the last thing I want is to be caught in the crossfire that emerges from the battles he faces.
I keepmy eyes cast down like the coward I am as I walk into the meeting room. The conversation between my dad, West, and his father, Lucas, abruptly stops, and I can feel their eyes boring into me.
God, I want to sink into the floor and disappear.
“Venetia. We’ve been waiting for you,” my dad says, patting the seat next to him as if I need reminding where I usually sit. “What took you so long?”
The burning imprints of West’s hands linger on my throat, tingling with small flames at his question. I pull my hair forward to hide them, knowing that Dad wouldn’t care if he saw them. To him, what matters is whether I can form a coherent sentence—if I can talk and help him run the business, then everything is fine.
Slowly, I take my seat, the cold leather offering a slight comfort. “Sorry,” I mumble, the word trembling on my lips. I can’t even conjure an excuse now; my mind is still swirling with thoughts, and I can feel West’s gaze fixed on me.
Why does he always fucking stare at me?
There’s a pause in the room, disapproval radiating from my dad beside me. I know he’s going to give me a lecture later about how unprofessional I was.
“Ah, never mind,” Lucas interjects, clasping his hands together. The loud sound makes me flinch slightly, but I keep my eyes down. Even so, I can still feel the intense power emanating from his dark gaze, cutting through the thick tension in the air. Lucas Reyes is a businessman who leaves destruction in his wake, using the most extreme methods to protect his dynasty. “Adrian, should you start, or should I?”
My dad finally shifts his attention away from me and turns fully to Lucas. “I’ll go. Kids, we’ve gathered you both here today for some special news,” he begins, his voice tinged with excitement. “Our families have been working together for a couple of years, relying on each other and building an empire that achieves perfection through hard work.”
An unpleasant feeling surges through me as he continues to ramble about something I struggle to follow, mostly due to West’s presence, but also because of how Dad veils his words. It feels like he’s trying to sugarcoat his message before dropping a bomb on us.
“I’ve been in real estate my entire life,” Lucas says, taking over with a gravelly chuckle. It’s such an unfamiliar sound fromhim that it sends a shiver down my spine. “It was my family’s company, and before that, it belonged to previous generations... You get the idea. We’ve built a name for ourselves, and with our unique methods, we’ve truly become the best of the best.”
“But real estate isn’t the top of the mountain,” my dad interjects, his leg nudging mine under the table.
I raise my head, focusing my gaze on the round table before us. It’s not what he wants me to do, but it’s better than nothing. I can sense his sigh and feel the tension in his chest, the impending anger simmering just beneath the surface at my disobedience.
“That’s correct, Adrian,” Lucas agrees. “That’s why I’m taking a risk and aiming higher.” He pauses for effect. “There will be an election in a year, and I will be running for Governor.”
