Dance with the Devil (Midnight, #1)

by Amanda Richardson

I realize with a start that he might want me to join him. I mean… he’s probably lonely in that underground demonic cave he must live in.

If I am the devil, then she is an angel—and I’m going to corrupt her. And if hell is my home, I’ll very happily drag her to the depths of the inferno, all for one taste.

March 5th Finally, after all this time, she’s right here. I can barely breathe thinking about it. I watched her yesterday, just for a moment too long, but she didn’t notice—or maybe she did, and just pretends not to. Christ, I hope she does. What does she think of me? Does she see it? This thing between us? She said something about the meeting with Dr. Lawrence, a colleague attending this conference with us, but I can’t remember a word she said. Her voice is like a melody, so soft, so soothing, but it makes me anxious, restless. How does she do that? It’s not normal. I’m not normal. Nothing about this is normal. I’m a fool to be thinking these things. A fool to want her like this. Or am I? She smiled at me—was it for me? It felt like it was just for me, like she knows how I feel. But does she? How could she? I have to be careful. I can’t let this get out of hand. She’s my assistant, my subordinate, but more than that... she’s mine. No, that’s wrong. She’s not mine. But she could be. She should be. She belongs in my life. We fit together so perfectly. She doesn’t even know it yet, but she will. I’ll make sure of it. One day, I can tell her everything—every twisted thought, every desire. Will she be disgusted? Afraid? Or will she smile that smile again, and tell me she’s been waiting for me to say it? I can’t stop thinking about her. Fuck, I don’t want to stop. I’m losing control. I can feel it slipping, and I don’t know if I want to hold on or just let it go. Maybe it’s alr...

“Well, yeah. This is like some sort of office rom-com playing out. One room. Enemies to lovers. And now the hate sex. You’re so predictable. So, how was it?” “Trust me, it is not a rom-com.” More like a horror book… but in a good way?

I thought he’d confess if it happened again. One time was a mistake, but two times? It’s a pattern.

This is so fucked up. I mean, my boss is eating me out from behind right now and talking about knocking me up, and it doesn’t feel wrong. Why doesn’t it feel wrong?

“I want you near me at all times. I want to fuck you when I’m awake. When I’m asleep. I want you during waking hours and in my dreams.”

“I warned you,” I say, my voice low as I take another step closer. “I told you there’d be no going back. I am consumed by you, Francesca Bristow. But no, I don’t intend to date you, because I already know what your favorite food is. I know what your cunt tastes like, and if I could recreate it somehow, I’d turn it into my own personal blend of heroin so that I could inject it straight into my veins.” She lets out a tiny gasp, and I step closer. “I know your biggest secrets and your deepest desires, because I’ve been watching you for a long time. I now realize that it may seem one-sided, but dating you just feels trivial. You are mine.”

“I think I love you,” I whisper as tears track down my face. “It hit me just now—with you worried about me being gone, and your stupid, stained shirt,” I say between tears. His stricken face only makes me cry harder. “You’re such a fucking psycho, but I must be one too because I think everything you do is incredibly—r-romantic, and the emails—you—you always emailed me first thing in the morning, like I was your first thought of the d-day⁠—”