Perfect Villain (Dark Lies Duet 1)

That doesn’t surprise me. She’s always on the run, though, based on what my guy found out about her, this is the longest she’s stayed in one place. Not for long. Soon I’ll have my way, and she’ll return home with me to Italy.

I inch farther into the space and run my hands across the dresser, then stop in front of it and open a drawer. Reaching inside, I retrieve a pair of black laced panties and hold them up with my index fingers, the corners of my mouth lifting as I think of her wearing them. I set them back and close the drawer, then push off the surface on my way over to the totes. When I peek inside the top one, I find it’s full of more clothes, and sticking out between a pair of jeans and the wall of the container is a plastic bag. Tugging it from its place, I soon realize it’s all her important documents.

Several passports, fake IDs, and forged birth certificates are amongst a few of the items here. I tip my chin, impressed at how resourceful she has to be to have all this. She’s gone by many names over the years, more than I ever thought. Fairchild, Myers, the moniker I knew her by, Maynard, and the current Danforth. Though, one passport stands out to me in particular. It dates back to when she was a girl, her family name etched into the pages: Siân Giuliani. I run my finger along the pages and notice something sticking between them.

I gently remove an image of a face I haven’t seen in fifteen years. Marco Giuliani and next to him is his wife, and in his arms, tucked lovingly between them, is Siân. I see right away she’s the spitting image of her mother. As I continue to survey the picture, a sense of deja vu hits me. I know when this was taken. This was the night her entire world changed, the eve she lost everyone she loved, the night she got away.

All of Italy thought she’d died along with her parents, but I knew differently, and I devoted years to finding her. And every time she gets away, we always meet again.

“Staremo insieme per sempre questa volta, topolina,” I say to the empty room. We’ll be together forever this time, little mouse.

With a deep breath in, I stuff everything back where it belongs and continue to glance around. Next to her bed on the end table is a black moleskin notebook. Intrigued, I pick it up and skim through it. It’s a journal, and my name sketched in her handwriting grabs my attention. Based on the date, it’s the night I approached her in the bar. I begin to read the passage, but the sound of a door closing downstairs distracts me.

“Shit,” I mutter and calmly tiptoe toward the hall.

A light flickers on the shadow of two people against the wall near the stairs, and a moment later, a man’s voice blares out.

“You look beautiful tonight, Siân.”

Fucking Taj.

I grit my teeth and force my anger down. The only thing that matters right now is not getting caught. The top of her head is the first thing I see as she climbs the stairs with him in tow. Not to be seen, I duck back into her room, and just as they breach the doorway, I rush into the bathroom, hiding myself behind the door.

A second later, one of them turns on the lamp next to the bed. Through the crack between the hinges, I stare at them. They’re in the middle of the room, and his hands roam every inch of her frame. My blood boils when he leans in to kiss her, but I keep it together.

“Thank you for forgiving me,” he says, but Siân doesn’t seem that interested.

Instead of a response, she stares up at him and aggressively shakes open his shirt, the buttons flying in every direction. I watch his breath hitch and lust build in his eyes. All the while I stand in her bathroom, with red hot frustration blurring my vision. But it’s when she pushes him on the mattress, and the wind from his fall sends the scent of cologne across the room that the piece falls in place. Remembering the cuff link from Kyla’s room, I dig into my pocket while narrowing my sights on his wrists, and sure enough, he’s missing one of his own.

“I’ll kill him,” I promise in a whisper.

8

SIN

Taj falls back onto the bed, and I strip out of my clothes. I want things to be different tonight, for something to spark and remind me why we’re still together. I peel the black jeans I’m wearing down my hips and legs, kicking them away once they reach my ankles. Next goes my shirt, and soon, I’m standing before him in nothing but my bra and panties.