Page 14 of Not Another Dark Romance

I knew it.

He must not have a wife if he’s begging me to fuck his face, although I’m not convinced that whole thing wasn’t just an elaborate attempt for him to try to get me to believe he won’t turn me in because, seriously, who the fuck wakes up tied to a chair in a basement and immediately thinks, “Oh, cool. This is so sexy”?

He was very obviously hard, though…

Probably the adrenaline. Or he’s just a maniac. I barely know him, and I’m already assuming it’s the latter.

I shouldn’t even be thinking about his erection at all, though. I don’t care what this guy is into. Even though this whole setup would be really hot if it was with a woman and it was all actually an elaborate role-play…

Nope, not thinking about that.

I should be worried about his kid, Pete, who will be without a father if I kill this guy.

God-fucking-damn it.

I give up pacing and sit on one of the lower steps, ripping off my mask because it’s useless anyway. He already knows what I look like, knows my name, knows where I work. I’m definitely going to prison if he goes free.

When he goes free. I can’t kill a dad, can I?

I slouch, resting my elbows on my knees and hanging my head in my hands. “How old is he?”

The guy—I still don’t know his name—perks up at my question, hope shining in his blue eyes. He must realize this is his actual ticket out, not all that sexual fantasy shit. “He’s four.”

Fuck. So young, but still old enough to know his dad, I would think. “Where is he now?”

“At my apartment. What time is it? He must be so worried about me.”

I glance at my phone. It’s officially past midnight, which means the worst day of my life is over. Yet the nightmare continues.

“Twelve-forty a.m.” He nods and looks a little relieved. Maybe whoever’s with his kid didn’t expect him until tomorrow. “So who’s with him?”

“No one. I could probably text one of my neighbors in the morning to help, but that’s a long time for him to be alone.”

“Why the fuck is he alone?” I demand, sitting up straighter so I can glare at him properly. I might not be a parent yet, but I know a four-year-old shouldn’t be left at home by themself.

Maybe this guy is a horrible person, after all, and his kid will be better off without him.

“Well, I thought I’d be home hours ago, but someone had other ideas.” He looks at me pointedly like it’s my fault he’s a shitty parent.

“Hey, don’t blame me. You’re the one who left him alone.”

He rolls his fucking eyes like he’s not just as bad a person as I am—probably worse, actually, because that’s neglect, child abuse. All I did was think I accidentally murdered someone and freak out about it while trying to cover it up.

“Well, I didn’t know if the restaurant allowed dogs,” he argues back.

“Dogs?” I repeat before I realize my mistake. “Wait, is Pete your fucking dog?”

“Piet is my dog, yes,” he answers.

I heave a huge sigh of relief but double-check just to be sure. “Do you have any kids?”

A laugh bursts out of him. “Human children? No. I’m not nearly responsible enough for that.”

I can easily agree with that after this conversation.

So, it looks like murder is back on the table.

Cool. Totally cool. I can definitely kill him then.