Cupid: A Dark Erotic Romance Part 25

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm looking for Asher. He's not... well, to be honest, I don't know where he's at in this house."

The woman was older, her eyes defined by the deep crows feet around them. Her gray hair slicked back in a bun only gave her a slightly professional edge, though her face reminded Diana of a grandmother's. Sweet, docile, forgiving. Did she have any idea what Asher was doing?

No, probably not. He had hidden it well. Her discovery was a mistake she wasn't meant to find.

"Oh Ma'am, that's a complex question. Asher is a... complex man. He likes to be everywhere all the time. Would you like me to get him for you?"

Diana nodded. "That would be lovely. Thank you."

The chef walked a few steps to a grey metal box against the wall. Pushed a few b.u.t.tons and leaned into it.

"Mr. Bishop? You busy?"

For a few seconds, there was only silence. And then the machine crackled and Asher's voice filtered through the speaker. "What do you want Grace? Mother and I are having an important conversation."

Grace turned to look at Diana, her brows knitted together, a frown on her face. Diana looked back at Grace, confusion rising up inside of her.

Mother? Was he being facetious? Sarcastic? Why would he want his chef to think he was talking to his dead mother?

Grace sighed and spoke into the box again. "Sir, your guest is requesting your presence. She's come down to the kitchen looking for you."

"Dammit, Grace. Why didn't you just tell me this to begin with?" his voice was angry, but still controlled.

"I'm sorry, sir. What would you like me to tell her?"

The speaker crackled again. "I'll be down in a minute."

Grace turned around slowly, her mouth opened and closed, as if she wanted to say something but couldn't form the words.

"Does he do that often?" Diana asked her.

"Ma'am?"

"Say things about his mother. As if he's with her?"

Grace's gaze met Diana's. "I don't think it's my place..."

"You're worried about him, aren't you?"

It was barely perceptible, but Diana noticed the way Grace teared up. "Yes, Ma'am."

"How long has it been since Miss Bishop pa.s.sed?"

"Seven years, Ma'am."

Diana stepped forward. "And he's been talking to her ever since?"

Grace nodded.

"You're a good woman, Grace," Diana said. "Let's pretend we didn't talk about this."

"Thank you Ma'am," Grace said in a whisper.

The door flung open and Asher stood there in a grey suit, his blond curls disheveled, his expression sour.

"Diana."

"Asher-"

Asher grabbed her wrist. "Come. Let's let Grace finish her kitchen duties. Thank you, Grace, for alerting me to Miss Carson's request."

Grace nodded and met Diana's gaze before Asher pulled her through the door.

"I thought you were tired," Asher asked as he guided her to the sitting room.

"I was. But I just got a call."

"From whom?"

"My boss. There's been a murder and I need to get to the scene immediately," Diana said, using all of her strength to remain calm and in control. She forced herself to look him in the eye.

"Are you sure that's such a good idea? What if he's waiting for you to arrive."

Diana shrugged. "Then I would like to meet him. Ask him a few questions."

She expected Asher to be stunned but instead he chuckled. "Only you would want to meet the madman going around killing people. You should be terrified of him. Whatever would you ask?"

She didn't want to give herself away quite yet. She wanted to be sure of how she felt when she revealed what she knew. Her life might depend on it.

"The usual things. Motivation. Remorse. Those types of things."

"Is that all? You're not the least bit curious of anything else."

Diana smiled, nervously. "Of course I am. But this is all hypothetical. And I haven't got time for that. I need to go to a crime scene, remember?"

Asher nodded. "Yes, how could I forget. I'll get my driver to take you."

"How about you come with me? It's your money at work after all. Nothing like seeing how it's being used, firsthand."

Asher shook his head. "That's not necessary. I believe you're doing a fine job. Besides... I have work tomorrow."

Diana walked toward the door. "It wasn't a question, Asher. You're coming with me."

Twenty.

Diana

Thirty minutes later, Diana and Asher stared out of opposing windows in the limo.

The silence between them grew like a tumor. She hadn't been sure if she would actually get Asher to come with her, but she was certain that once he was there, everything would become clearer.

She studied him as much as she could from the corner of her eye.

Okay. He kills people. The two scariest types of murderers are psychopaths and sociopaths. Which one are you, Asher? And how am I involved in your future?

She could go to the police, but she'd already ran that down in her head several times. He had the money and resources to cover it all up, or run off never to be found again, yet hidden in the shadows to take her life, whenever he craved her death.

She'd have to be careful, either way.

Every step in these next few days would have to be well-planned in order to trap him.

Asher turned her way. "I would like you to stay for two weeks, at least."

She tensed.

Of course you want me to stay. Had you planned on having me leave at all? If I stayed would it make me safer? The staff is all around. Everyone knows I'm in his mansion. If something happens to me, Asher would be the first person suspected. Right? G.o.d, I hope I'm right. But just in case, I'll fight it. Let's see what happens if I say no.

She swallowed down her fear. "No."

Shock laced his words. "No?"

"You sound surprised."

He hid his face into the shadows of the limo. "I am."

"That doesn't mean that I'm done with Cupid. We can still work on that part."

"Well, thank G.o.d for Cupid."

"I'm sorry, but I told you that we couldn't. . .have s.e.x anymore."

He got back into the moonlight, as the limo made it down Poet Lane. Pain creased around the corners of his eyes. "You're done with me?"

"I-I'm. . ."

"Let me guess for you." He spat out the words. "You're mourning? Confused? Worried? Nervous?" He waited for a few seconds, and then just said it, "Scared?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe," he muttered and went back to looking out of his side of the limo window. "Let me explain something to you, Mrs. Carson."

She smirked. "We're back at Mrs. Carson?"

He ignored the smart a.s.s comment. "I'm glad you're not done with Cupid." His voice came out darker than ever before. "However, I'm certainly not done with you, either."

"That's too bad. I'll have to disappoint you, if you try to make a move on me. The s.e.x was a mistake."

"No, Diana." He turned to her and pierced her with a heated gaze. "The s.e.x was only the beginning."

Has he lost his mind? Uh. . .yes. He's a freaking serial killer. He lost his mind long ago. He talks about his mother like she really exists. Why am I in this limo with him again?

She bit her lip and stared in front of her.

A quiet settled upon them as the limo sluggishly rolled through Ovid Island.

Hurry. I got to get out of this car. It's getting hard to breath, and I don't know if it's fear or l.u.s.t that's coursing through my veins.

Even though a decent amount of s.p.a.ce sat between them. His warmth radiated from his body and caressed her. She yearned to run her fingers through those blonde curls that she'd played with while they made love. Her tongue craved a lick of his skin and a wrestle with his tongue. Her teeth ached to bite the curve of his neck, and just taste him for one more time.

No. Get that out of your head right now. No. d.a.m.n it, driver. Hurry.

Diana was sure the vehicle drove at a regular speed and that it was more her impatience of wanting to see what Greg had summoned her to rather than her desire to escape his presence. s.e.x with Asher would not be something that she even allowed to play upon her mind.

She would not think about his d.i.c.k or the way it felt in her hands.

In her mouth.

Inside of her.

No, no, no.

Yet, the memory of his tongue's sensations on her body, rocked her, right in that moment. A low moan fled her lips, before she could even stifle it.

And he had to have heard her, because he turned to her and raised the right side of his lip into a sneer, as if he was just as hungry for her, and just as mad about it.

Her face flushed like she'd been running. That was what he did to her, with just one night of s.e.x, had her thinking about the things he did to her flesh, whether she wanted to or not.

And his c.o.c.k, so thick, and just right.

She'd dreamed about Asher's c.o.c.k, earlier in her home. That night by herself, she toyed with her c.l.i.t. She'd hoped for him to be inside of her, begged for it in the silence of her bedroom. From then on, she'd painted his c.o.c.k onto her mental canvas in long strokes with her imaginary paintbrush.

But nothing had prepared her for the real thing.

And nothing would probably keep her from painting the reality in her head, in future nights to come. Nothing would change that, not even the sad fact that this man was a deranged killer.

That very fact shook her all the way down to the core.