Read Online Black Dalliances (A Blushing Death Novel) by Suzanne M. Sabol - Free Book Online Page B

it was, his bitterness shone through. Cringing, I let the gut twisting regret sink into me. His words hurt, as if he’d plunged a knife into my chest. I suspected that had been his intent. He ignored my reaction, glaring down his nose at the stack of papers on his desk as if I wasn’t even there.
    Okaaaay. I could do this. I could.
    “I wanted to thank you for all you did, with the house and everything,” I said. My voice was surprisingly steady even if my heart was beating a hole through my chest.
    Glaring up at me through dark lashes with fathomless black irises, his gaze was filled with unconcerned disdain. I wanted to shrivel up in a little ball and disappear at his expression. Maybe it was too late for forgiveness.
    “I also wanted to thank you for the, ah, movies,” I said softly, trying to temper the lethal expression in his gaze. “It means the world to me that you found them,” I finished hastily as his anguished anger caught me by surprise and a lump lodged in my throat.
    “He showed you?” he growled through clenched teeth, his grip tightening around the pen in his hand.
    “Yes,” I said, confused by his reaction. “Dean thought I might want to get out of the hotel.”
    “So,” he snarled, iron in his tone. Leaning back in his chair, he threw the pen onto the desk. “He’s taken that away from me as well.”
    My pulse beat a steady thump-thump . . . thump-thump . . . thump-thump in my skull. I’d fucked up again and didn’t even know how. Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth to keep from trembling under his glare, I bit down hard.
    “Patrick,” I whispered, breaking the tension riddled silence. The thick air seemed to make the room smaller and the space between us much more difficult to overcome. “He’s not taking anything from you.”
    “Isn’t he?” he snapped.
    The frigid, consuming pressure of his power prickled along my skin, making me shiver and the air on my arm stand on end.
    “No,” I said, taking a step back in the face of his anger. I’d never backed away from Patrick, not even when he was trying to kill me. But I backed away from him now.
    He watched me for a long, silent moment as his eyes evaluated me from top to bottom. He blinked only once then turned his head down to the contract on his desk in front of him.
    “Is there anything else?” he asked, dismissing me with that one sentence.
    Batting back the tears burning behind my eyes, I stood frozen in shock. I’d imagined this going so many other ways but never this sense of finality that sat like a stone in my gut. He picked up the pen, flipped through the contract, and signed with his usual flourish. He didn’t glance up at me.
    “No,” I mumbled, shaking my head quick in surprise. “I’m sorry to’ve bothered you,” I said, still trying to keep the quiver out of my voice and the tears right where they were, balancing tentatively on my lashes.
    He didn’t say a word as I stood before him, hurt, astonished, and broken. The tension was almost palpable as I waited for him to do or say something. But he didn’t, and I stood, waiting like an idiot.
    I am being stupid. Walk away and just leave him alone. It’s what he clearly wants.
    But I wanted to believe he still loved me and wanted to be a part of my life.
    Tiptoeing toward his desk on silent feet, I drew a slip of paper from my back pocket. I slid the new code for the security alarm to the house and a new key onto his desk. The clink from the metal key hitting the wood of his desk sounded immense as it echoed in the silent office.
    He froze for an instant, as still as death at the sound, then continued writing with his head down.
    Turning my back to him, I left without another word. I really wanted a bath. For some reason, I felt dirty.
    Patrick felt Dahlia leave more than saw her go. Every time she left, it was as if all the oxygen was sucked from the room with her, leaving him breathless and gasping. Closing his eyes, he reached for the key and slip of