Dark Descent into Desire

by J. J. Sorel

  “That sounds like domestic harmony to me.”

  “Yep. It’s nice.” He looked down at his drink. “I just don’t want to be a dad. Not yet, at least. Maybe never.” He looked up at me with a guilty smile. “I’ve even suggested…”

  “An abortion?”

  “Yep. I know, it’s bad of me…” He exhaled slowly. “Shit. Shit. Shit. What am I going to do?”

  Just as I was about to answer him, my cell vibrated. I removed it from my pocket. I’d been sent a news bulletin. I clicked on the link. “Dylan Fox a.k.a Gareth Lion has been killed.”

  I looked up at James.

  “You look pale. What is it?” asked James.

  “It’s Fox. He’s been run over and killed. Outside the Cherry Orchard, apparently.” My mind went into overdrive. “He was the only one with the list of names.”

  “It’s pretty obvious it’s a hit. Too many big names involved.”

  I exhaled a deep breath, nodding in agreement.

  58

  * * *

  PENELOPE

  I’D JUST PUT MY FINISHING touches to a new series. I hadn’t stopped working, which was normal for me. I would have remained in my studio all day and night if I could.

  The dramatic Gothic façade and history-soaked walls of Raven Abbey had invaded my imagination. They were pure gold for someone as hooked on surrealism as I was.

  Tilting my head to and fro, I studied the panels together. My technique had improved in that I’d sketched so much that the architectural detail came naturally. Almost like magic.

  A knock came at the door. When I opened it, I expected to see Sheldon, who normally popped in for a coffee in the mornings, but instead found Lilly clutching her arms.

  “Come in. You look cold,” I said.

  She stepped into the hallway. “I raced out without grabbing a cardigan.”

  “Go into the kitchen, and I’ll grab you something to wear.”

  I returned with a cardigan and passed it to her. “Here. This should fit.”

  She put it on and rubbed her arms. “Thanks. That’s better.” Looking up at me, her big blue eyes were bloodshot and teary.

  “Are you okay, love? Can I make you a coffee or a tea?” I asked softly.

  “Tea would be nice,” she said, biting a fingernail.

  I poured hot water into two cups with teabags.

  “It’s so nice here. And sunny,” she said, smiling sadly.

  “Lilly, what’s the matter?” I passed her a cup.

  She took a sip and then looked up at me, her eyes pooling with tears. “I’m pregnant.”

  I sat down. “Oh no. I thought you were on the pill.”

  “I must’ve forgotten to take it.” She sighed. “I’m going to have to move back home.”

  “Back home with Brent?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be cool about it,” I said, thinking of Brent and how protective he was of Lilly.

  “He’s got a girlfriend living there now. Remember I told you about Jade?”

  I nodded. So much had happened that I’d almost forgotten the happy news that lovely Brent had finally met a girl.

  “Come and live with me,” I suggested.

  The memory of Blake just that same morning ripping off my panties and fucking me over the kitchen table entered my thoughts, sending a swelling ache through me.

  Sex would just have to return to the bedroom. And my loud moans and screaming orgasms would have to be muted for a while. A small price to pay to help a friend in need.

  “But would Blake mind?” she asked.

  “It’s my house. He bought it for me, and I’m sure he won’t mind. In any case, I stay at his house most of the time. I just come here and work. He does stay here occasionally. But it’s all good.”

  “I’ll be in the way, then.” A tear slid down her cheek.

  “No, you won’t. It’s a really big house, and there’s a guest room.” I sat next to her and placed my arm around her shoulder. “Tell me what happened with James.”

  “We argued. He doesn’t want to be a father. And when he suggested a termination, I ran away. I can’t do that.” She broke into sobs.

  Holding Lilly’s hand to comfort her, I jumped when my phone buzzed. It was Blake. “I need to take this. Sorry.” I walked out into the living room. “Hey.”

  “Penny. I need you to come down to the police station and make a statement.”

  “Huh?”

  “Fox is dead. And I’m a suspect.”

  “Holy shit.” Not another drama, I thought. I didn’t know how much more I could take. And poor Blake.

  “I need an alibi,” he said.

  “Yes, of course. I mean… were we…”

  “It happened last night in the early hours. He was run down by a car. Just near the Cherry Orchard. There’s no CCTV, and I was with you in bed.”

  “Of course. I’ll be there ASAP. Text me the details. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I have to go. I’ll see you soon. Okay?”

  “Yes.” I closed the call. A few seconds later, a text came through with the details.

  I headed back into the kitchen. Blood had drained from my face.

  “What’s happened?” asked Lilly.

  “I have to go to the police station. Fox has been murdered, and Blake’s a suspect.”

  “Shit. He wouldn’t have done it, though. Would he have?” she asked.

  “No. It was early morning. A car ran him down.”

  “Maybe it was an accident,” said Lilly.

  “Outside the Cherry Orchard?”

  She winced at the mention of that place. “He’s a monster, according to James. He had something over James, too, I believe.”

  I rose. “Look, I have to go. But hey, stay here. Make yourself at home. Eat something. I’ll get you a key when I return. Okay?”

  She hugged me. “Thanks, sweetie. You’re the best.”

  * * *

  I SAT IN THE COLD, sterile room, explaining where I’d spent the previous night, which was simple enough since I’d spent the night with Blake.

  “We fell asleep together. That’s what I remember.”

  The detective studied me. The gap of silence was so excruciatingly wide that it felt like a drill chiseling into my head.

  Rising from his seat, he started to pace. “Have you ever met Dylan Fox?”

  “Yes. Once. At a ball.”

  “I believe they grew up together, and that Blake was bequeathed the estate that belonged to Fox’s father. We also found information about Blake Sinclair on Fox’s computer. I believe Fox was blackmailing him.” He waited for a comment, but I remained quiet, my muscles gripping onto the chair. “Your boyfriend had motive.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t involve myself in Blake’s personal affairs.”

  “But you’re a couple. He described you as his fiancée. His significant other.”

  That’s nice.

  I finally relaxed. “We talk about other things. And Blake’s not someone who talks a great deal about himself.”

  “Mm… I’ve noticed,” he said quietly. “Okay.” He closed his notebook. “Let’s leave it there.”

  I found Blake peering down at his phone. He looked up. Those eyes looked so blue and lost that I wanted to jump on his lap and console him.

  “Hey.” He rose and took my hand. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  59

  * * *

  BLAKE

  I STOPPED WALKING AND took Penelope’s hand. Public displays of anything, let alone affection, fitted me as awkwardly as a pair of high heels. So I surprised myself when I took her into my arms and held her.

  Our relationship, despite my greedy addiction for her body, had become much more than just sexual. I loved having her around reading a book, doodling or watching telly.

  Her poise brought me indescribable pleasure. Having her close comforted and calmed my spirit. I’d been livi
ng in a cage before. It was strange— I had thought that a relationship would imprison me, but in fact, it had freed me.

  Penelope removed herself from my arms and looked up at me. She seemed so tiny without heels.

  “Did they ask some challenging questions?” I asked.

  “Not really. Just the standard ‘where were you’ question.”

  I studied her for signs of stress. “I hope you can forgive me for dragging you into yet another ugly scene. I imagine there aren’t any more to come.” I smiled.

  I’d been probed and interrogated for two hours. In the end, I had nothing to give them other than the truth. I reminded the detective that Fox had made a lot of enemies, powerful people who had much more to lose than me. The fact that I wasn’t embroiled in the pedophile-island scandal had helped.

  After twenty-three years of having that bastard in my shadow, a protracted ordeal by anyone’s standards, I felt lighter as we moved along the path.

  Penelope stopped walking. “Just answer me honestly. Were you responsible?”

  Even though I understood her need to ask, the fact that she thought me capable of murder stung. “I was with you all night.”

  “You could have hired someone,” she argued. The coolness in her tone was like vinegar to a wound.

  “Look at me, Penelope,” I said. She turned and gazed up at me. “Why would I wait until now?” I opened out my hands. “If anything, I had more reason to strike after that abduction attempt on you.” I paused to read her reaction. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize what we have.”

  I wiped away the tear that touched her cheek and kissed her tenderly in broad daylight, surrounded by a rush of people oblivious to our struggle, which instead of breaking us, had brought us closer together.

  “I believe you.” A sigh of resignation followed. “To be honest, I would have forgiven you anyway, as bad as that sounds. He was evil.” She smiled sadly. “I do worry about Lilly, though.”

  “Why? Because of James?” I asked, relieved to have the conversation veer away from me.

  “They’re no longer together. She’s staying with me. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “It’s your house, darling. You can let anyone stay, as long as it’s not another man, of course.”

  She wore an impish grin. “I’m too sore, so even if I wanted to, which of course I don’t, I couldn’t let another man fuck me.”

  That worried me. “Am I that rough?”

  “This morning in the shower…” She tilted her head.

  “I thought you liked it.”

  “Yeah. It was nice.” Her soft voice made my dick lengthen.

  “I’m wearing jeans.” There was a lot to be said for loose-fitting pants.

  “I like you in jeans.” Her hand landed in my pocket and squeezed my ass. “So you see, Mr. Insatiable, I don’t have anything left for another man.” Her smile faded. “I don’t want another man. It’s the last thing I’d ever do.”

  “I trust you. It’s just the way men look at you—like that dick that just passed. His eyes were all over your tits.”

  “I can’t help that, Blake.”

  “No, you can’t, you sexy temptress.” I drew her close.

  That made her giggle, and we headed off for coffee and cake in an attempt to remove that dank, dark police station from our minds.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, I arrived at Penelope’s and, recalling Lilly now lived there, knocked on the door.

  Lilly answered and stepped out, allowing me pass.

  “I hope you don’t mind me staying. I’ll try not get in the way.”

  Following her down the long hallway, I replied, “It’s all good. It’s a big house.”

  “Penny’s painting.” She appeared so sad that I felt a pang of sympathy and, at the same time, anger at James for not doing the right thing by her.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I’m good. I’m looking for a small shop. I’m going to set up my own beauty salon.”

  “If there’s anything I can do to help…”

  “Oh, that’s so nice. I’m good, though. My brother can help with handyman stuff, like shelving and painting.”

  “I’m glad to hear.”

  She shrugged and touched her belly. “I’ll have another little mouth to feed, so I’ve got to think ahead. And there’s no way I’m going back to living at our old flat.”

  “You’ve got Penelope looking out for you. And if you want any advice on business, feel free to ask.”

  She smiled meekly in return.

  I stepped into Penelope’s studio, which had that typical turpentine- and-linseed-oil smell in the air.

  Dressed in a white shirt splattered in paint, with her hair in a bun, Penelope stood before a canvas and squinted. She hadn’t heard me enter, and when she looked up, she jumped.

  “Hey. Sorry to startle you,” I said, joining her.

  I kissed her on the cheek. My attention went to the canvas, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. She’d painted me.

  “Do you like it?” she asked. “I painted it from a few sketches I’ve made.”

  I stepped back and studied the work. Wearing a dark jacket and a black turtleneck, I appeared downcast. She’d captured that mood well and created an impressive picture-perfect likeness. Penelope described it as “brooding and introspective.” And that it was. By my side, and in the background, a woman with long black hair, wearing a red gown with a train, ascended stairs toward a Gothic arch.

  “I take it that’s you?” I pointed to the girl in the painting.

  “It’s an idealistic version of me.” Her eyebrow arched. “Her ass is smaller.”

  I didn’t laugh because I was so absorbed in the painting and how well it had been rendered. “It’s stunning. Very Gothic.”

  “Yeah. In other words, old-fashioned.” She smiled as her eyes flicked from me to the large canvas.

  “If I wasn’t the subject, I’d buy it. It’s masterful, darling.” I placed my arm around her waist. “Your talent leaves me breathless.” I leaned in and kissed her warm, soft neck. “As do your curves. I would have preferred her more voluptuous. She looks like a maiden. Young and innocent.”

  “That’s exactly what she is. Climbing or soaring to womanhood, scaling the heights of passion and romance.”

  “It’s beautiful. Like you.”

  “Why don’t you like yourself in it?” she asked, looking a little dejected.

  I shrugged. “I look very serious.”

  “You look sexy, as always. Give me a mysterious, serious man any day.”

  I grinned. “I’m not always like that. As you know.”

  “No. You’re a lot lighter than when we first met. That’s for sure.”

  “You sound disappointed,” I said.

  “Far from it. It’s just, some days it feels like I’m in a dream and I’ll wake up and revert to that frightened girl whose mother spent most of her time slumped on the sofa.”

  “I’m here for you. Always.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes, acknowledging our deep connection.

  60

  * * *

  PENELOPE

  THERE WERE PEOPLE everywhere, crowding around the entrance of the Palazzo Vecchio, while my neck hurt from gazing up at the famous David. It was only a copy but so well captured that I sighed with disbelief.

  I was in Florence. And it wasn’t a dream.

  Looking devilishly handsome, Blake strode toward me with that cosmopolitan, sexy man-of-the-world strut, and as always, women ogled him.

  “Hey, Mr. Good-Looking,” I said.

  He passed me a bottle of water that he’d queued up in a long line for.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “This place is packed.” He shook his head as another busload of tourists poured out.

  “Yes, I’m afraid we’re forty years too late,” I said. I didn’t mind, however. Crowds had never bothered me.

  “More like three hundred years,” he
said dryly.

  I giggled, and he smiled back.

  “Verona or Venice?” he asked.

  “Both?” I asked.

  “I’ll book tickets for the Verona Arena.”

  “And that is…?”

  “It’s an ancient amphitheater famous for open-air opera. They’re staging La Bohème. One of my favorites. Would you like to go? It’s tomorrow night. There’ll be a full moon.”

  I fell into his blue eyes, which sang in the afternoon light. Blake fitted in naturally with Florence’s infinite beauty.

  I shook my head in wonder. “What can I say but yes? I’ve never been to the opera. What will I wear?”

  He stood up and took my hand. “Let’s go shopping, shall we?”

  I floated along, my arm linked with Blake’s, as women glanced at me with envy. They wanted to be me. Now that was a first for a girl who’d spent most of her life subsisting on crumbs.

  I studied my ring finger, where a huge spellbinding diamond-encircled ruby collected the sunlight.

  The first day we arrived in Florence, Blake had taken me to an antique jewelry shop and bought me a pair of ruby drop earrings. Then he asked to see an antique ring. The owner told us it had belonged to a princess. He drew circles with his hands as he narrated the fairy tale of that ring. Blake cast me a side-glance with that subtle smirk of his. The dealer might have been spinning a story, but I enjoyed every second of it. It was pure theater.

  Watching Blake slide the ring onto my finger, the dealer’s face lit up with joy. I thought he was going to kiss me. Scrolled with diamonds, the ring housed a large ruby, which changed to purplish red in the light, making my heart skip a beat.

  “Do you like it?” asked Blake.

  “I love it. But it’s ridiculously extravagant.”

  “Beauty’s never extravagant. And it looks perfect on you. Only, try not to drop paint on it.” He tilted his head so adorably that I wanted to slap him.