Tempted by Deception (Deception Trilogy, #2)

by Rina Kent

To villains.

Nothing good ever comes without pain.

I was born from pain, raised by pain, and eventually embraced it.

He just executed a man in cold blood and has no reaction to it. That’s even more terrifying than the act itself. Just when I’m about to throw up my dinner, his head tilts to the side. Toward me.

He stares at me with silent apprehension. He’s not glaring or scowling, but the threat is right there. In his silence. In the fact that he knew to look straight in my direction as if he were aware I was there all along.

This close, he’s even more striking, but in a quiet kind of way, like the rare attractive people who don’t want to stand out in a crowd.

He reaches for me with his other hand and I freeze as his fingers replace his gun, gently gliding over my lips. Flames erupt across my skin, even though his touch is like crossing paths with death. Literally and figuratively.

It’s not paranoia. Far from it. I’m not an idiot. I’m well aware that night wasn’t the end of it. If anything, it’s the beginning of something ugly I have no control over.

I considered that my mind might have been playing a sick game on me. That’s what it does when everything gets to be too much. My demons come out to play and my subconscious goes to war with my conscious, torturing me with my own head.

Playing Giselle has been my dream since I first watched it as a little girl. I found magic and heartbreak in her story. Hope and despair. Love and death. I thought it was the most beautiful thing a ballerina could dance.

I had a chance to play in Giselle in my teens, but only as part of the corps de ballet. I didn’t get to experience that despair and live in the head of a woman so betrayed that she escaped in her mind. That story hit so close to home and I need to experience it, to feel it in the very marrow of my bones.

A few rows ahead, the stranger who held a gun to my head a week ago is sitting with the producers. He’s wearing a gray cashmere coat over his black shirt and his hair is styled, neat, looking like a CEO who’s just been to a meeting. His demeanor is composed—normal, even. But there’s nothing normal about him.

His expression is neutral, but it wouldn’t be more terrifying if he were scowling. Because I know what that façade hides, what actually lurks beneath the surface. A killer. A lethal, cold-hearted one at that, who wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

Fear has evolved into a tall, dark-haired stranger with terrifying gray eyes and a lethal weapon.

In a way, it feels like everyone else has disappeared and he’s the only presence I can sense. The only person who’s watching me. Just like Albrecht was watching Giselle that day and became infatuated with her.

He is that hurricane, wrecking people’s lives without being affected in the least.

His smell shoots straight to my head and nothing prepares me for the subtle mixture of woods and leather. On the surface, it’s a harmless scent, but on him, it’s a translation of his lethality.

It’s completely unfair that a devil like him has such an intimidating physique and a handsome face to go with it.

I briefly close my eyes to rein in the pain. Now that I know his name, he’ll never let me go. For some reason, I feel like I’ve signed my fate. First, my death certificate, and now, my fate.

I’m acutely aware of Adrian watching me, his fingers casually interlaced on the table. They’re lean, masculine, and have veins etched across the surface. And now I’m ogling them. I can’t believe I’m ogling the same fingers that held a gun to my forehead.

The dark depth of his gray eyes is similar to deep cloudy skies—blank, composed, and cold.

“A hero is the last thing I want to be. Selflessness has never been my thing.” “So you would rather be the villain?” “A villain is the hero in his own story, so why not?” “The villain always loses.” “In Disney films. In your ballet performances, perhaps. In real life, however, the villain is the one who always wins.”

“I’m not an idiot. I know this is only a phase before you move on to the next step.” He pauses with his glass of wine halfway to his lips. “What do you think I’ll do?” “Fuck me?” “Eventually.”

I still recognize that he’s dangerous. That he’s a monster hidden under a composed façade and gentlemen’s clothes.

I’m so small compared to him, barely reaching his broad shoulders. I’m thin and tiny in contrast to his large physique and monstrous aura.

“Why did you wait a week to find me?” I murmur. “I was busy.” “Busy gathering information about me?” “Probably. Why? Have you been thinking about me, Lenochka?” His voice drops with the last word.

He strokes a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is gentle, but the undertone is far from it. If anything, it’s charged, dark, stifling.

The scent of roses fills my nostrils. She doesn’t only smell like them, she feels like them, too. Beautiful, small, and able to be plucked away by any passer-by. They bloom fast and die just as fast. Unlucky for her, this passer-by is none other than her worst nightmare.

I devoured her lips. They’re red now, a bit bruised, a bit broken, just like her.

There’s a certain fractured quality about her, a wound she’s hiding away from watchful eyes. But she’s been blinded to the reality that untreated wounds decay and rot.

When I watched her dance, shining under the spotlight, I didn’t see her ethereal beauty or angelic face. I didn’t see her elegance or her perfect technique. I saw darkness attempting to fester in light. I saw a person trying their hardest to escape who they truly are.

I step out with Lia in my arms. She’s light, tiny, and too soft. Her head drops against my chest, arm falling lifelessly to the side.

“I thought you let me go.” “You’re smart enough to not believe that. During the entire week, you were jumpy, waiting, biding your time until I came back into your life again.” “You…you were watching me?” “Yes.” “Are you a stalker?” “I’m worse, Lenochka,

I’m not a keeper. I’m a diamond others admire from afar, but once they dig into it, all they find is black stone.

I’m falling into that web; I can feel the strings digging into my skin, sinking deep with each of his merciless pounds.

If it were a few days ago, I would’ve told them all about Lia Morelli, but after today, she’ll remain locked between me and myself. She’s now my secret. Dirty. Dangerous. And entirely fucked-up.

I need to find a way to get rid of him, to purge him out of my life once and for all, because in the small time he was in it, he disordered everything. Including my damn dreams.

Playing my last card, I rise on my tiptoes and press a kiss to Adrian’s jaw. It’s supposed to be a gesture to lower his guard, but I end up being the one with my guard down. All the emotions I’ve experienced since I first met him rush to the surface. The frustration, the unknown, and the damn longing that I don’t want to admit to. All those feelings have been there, biding their time, waiting for this exact moment when my mouth meets his skin.

“You’re trembling.” “I’m okay.” “Don’t say that again.” “That I’m okay?” “That word doesn’t suit you. It’s juvenile, when you’re anything but.”

“What makes you think I want you to know me?” “Isn’t that how these things work?” “These things?” he repeats with an edge of mockery. “You know.” “I don’t know.” “Just you and me.” “Just you and me. I like that.”

It doesn’t help that he looks as lethal and as handsome as ever. His physique is really impressive, whether it’s his straight nose or his chiseled cheekbones or the black clothes that add a dangerous edge to his muscular frame. He’s the type of beauty one should only admire from afar. Whenever anyone gets close, he’ll snuff them out like a deadly exotic animal.

Him touching me isn’t a novelty but more like meeting an old lover. And not just any lover, the only skilled lover who’s ever known how to twist my body in all the right ways possible. But I’ve never had such a lover before. I’ve never been caught in an erotic maze by a mere touch as I am with Adrian.

“And you never will at the hands of anyone else. From now on, you’ll forget about any bastard who touched you in the past.”

“Say it again. My name.” “Adrian…” I manage on a whimper as my eyes clash with his. They’re ashen, but sparking with lust that mirrors mine. It’s so strong that I can taste it in the small space between us. “You’ll never say anyone else’s name in that tone again.”

I don’t even know if I’ll get back from this one, but I fall anyway. That’s how I’ve felt about everything to do with Adrian since I first met him. He has a way of making me abandon my inhibitions and just…fall. It’s liberating as much as it is dangerous. Delicious as much as it is terrifying.

“I…I thought it was a one-time thing.” “You thought wrong, Lenochka.” His voice is as calm as the devil, and just as lethal. And I know, I just know that my life will never be the same again.

This woman hasn’t only been messing with my patterns, but she’s also provoking a part of me that I bid farewell when I was a child.

Taking a strand of her hair between my fingers, I inhale it, letting the scent of roses barge into my lungs and carve a place there. Everything about her is soft, even her personality. But being soft doesn’t mean she’s naive. Lia knows when to stand up for herself if need be, but she carefully picks her battles. Like a survivor would.

She’s right. I am a stalker. But it’s either that or torture her for answers. What am I if not the perfect villain? I prefer to do things smoothly, not harshly.

“So now, I’m only allowed to look at you?” I like that. In fact, I like it so much, it’s fucking disturbing, and I don’t usually consider anything disturbing. “If you can help it, yes,” I say in a nonchalant tone that doesn’t betray the thought I was having.