Page 5 of Her Dark Angel
One of the doors swings open to reveal a man around my height with a buzzed haircut and brown eyes staring back at me. A cigarette hangs from his lips as his eyes rake over my body, eyeing me like I’m some kind of fucking meal.
Ew. Gross. If this is the kind of people Nash likes to hang out with, then we’re already off to a bad start.
“Can I help you, sweetheart?” he drawls, his voice thick like he has just woken up. A black short-sleeved button-down hangs from his thin shoulders, the buttons undone to reveal his torso. The protrusion of his ribcage from beneath the thin material captures my attention for a brief moment before I remind myself to focus on the reason why I’m here.
I clear my throat. “Uh, yes, you can. I’m here to see Nash. Is he around?”
The man squints. “Does he know you’re coming by?”
Well, he’s fucking got me there.
“No, but he knows who I am.” At least, I hope he does.
He chuckles dryly and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.” He takes a step to the side and points up the large, wooden spiral staircase that leads to the second floor. “He’s in his bedroom at the end of the hallway. You won’t miss it.”
My feet feel like they’re filled with lead, unable to take the first step inside. The man is watching me carefully, and I take this as my sign to hurry the up and get away from him. He’s creeping me out big time.
I nod at him before stepping into the foyer, the floorboards creaking beneath my weight, and take each step quicker than I normally would. Stale smoke coats the air, assaulting my nostrils. The need to get this meet and greet over and done with outweighs my nosiness of wanting to look around this beautiful home and take in the decor—if there is any—and whatever else there is to see.
Instead, I follow the creepy man’s directions and head straight down the hallway until my nose is almost touching the black door at the end. It’s the only door that is black in the hallway—the rest are white with cream walls surrounding them. From the corner of my eye, I notice there isn’t any artwork on the walls or photographs. Nothing to show Nash’s personality.
Inhaling a deep breath, I knock. I expect the door to fling open, but it doesn’t. Nothing happens. Is he even in there like the creepy man said he was?
I knock again. This time, a voice follows.
“Fuck off!”
I frown. Is this man for real? Is that how he talks to everyone? Well, I’m not going to let that fly. Not when I’m the one who would be helping him the most, considering his current track record with the media.
With a huff, I ignore his words and open the door. It flings open into a large bedroom that is bigger than most apartments in downtown Los Angeles. He lives like a fucking king out in the hills. I barely have time to take in the rest of the room before my eyes drift toward the large California King bed to the right fitted with sleek black sheets. Black seems to be his favorite color. I hate that we have that in common.
My eyes widen when I fully take in what is happening in front of me.
A woman is on her hands and knees while Nash Beck drives his hips into her from behind, her tits bouncing wildly as locks of blonde hair sticks to her sweaty neck. Her knuckles are pearl white as she grips the tousled bed sheets and drags her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes have basically rolled into the back of her head as she moans loudly.
Worst of all, he doesn’t bother to stop what he’s doing. Instead, he just fucking smiles at me.
I gasp when the realization of what I just walked in on catches up to me like a semi-truck slamming into me. Spinning on my heels, I turn away from them and cover my eyes with my hands. The sound of skin slapping against skin and soft moans reach my ears. I want to scream. I force back the panic threatening to implode in my chest as the sounds continue to ring in my ears.
What. The actual. Fuck?
You’re such a good girl for me, Kinnie.
I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper to myself, “Stop it. Fight it.”
You’re so beautiful, and you’re all mine.
I can’t let the memories take over. Not now. Not ever. I certainly won’t allow him to see me as anything but confident. I refuse to appear weak to anyone, especially someone like Nash Beck.
“What the hell!” I shout, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment. I’m such an idiot for walking in like that. I should’ve at least knocked a few more times in the hopes that he would stop whatever he was doing to come to the door, but no. I had to barge in like a fucking lunatic.
Jesus.
“I told you to fuck off,” he responds gruffly, but I hear the small trace of amusement in his voice. The motherfucker still hasn’t stopped what he’s doing. Unbelievable. “What are you doing in here?”
“I came to see you about our… deal,” I answer, my voice barely audible over the slapping of skin and deep moans.
I know I should flee the room and wait until they’re done, but my feet are rooted to the brown shag carpet. Could this get any worse? I close my eyes and inhale a deep, calming breath to ward off the tingling in my chest. My body’s instinct is to completely shut down when I’m triggered, but I have worked too hard to break down in front of a man like Nash Beck.