Page 25 of Not Another Dark Romance

My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest, and I can’t seem to remember how to breathe. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over. I rake my hands through my hair, yanking on it to try to feel something other than sheer panic. Pete trots over on the bed to lay his head in my lap, comforting me. Because I’m freaking the fuck out about killing his owner.

Shit. Okay, I need to focus on the facts. I can’t let panic take over. Logically, I know I have two options: kill Mason or let him go. Despite what he claims, I don’t believe for a second he won’t turn me in. I’ve held him captive for days in my basement. So, really, my options are to kill him and maybe I get away with it, or let him go and definitely spend the rest of my life in prison. I really don’t want to go to jail, and I don’t want to ruin my best friends’ lives if I do.

I’m left with one option every time I think about my choices: I need to kill Mason and cover it up properly.

But first I need to go fill out all my information for a fucking criminal background check.

Fuck my life.

I hurry through my new morning routine of feeding Pete and taking him out. I don’t have time for a real breakfast today, so protein bars it is for Mason and me. I walk downstairs, and all the hope in his eyes is crushed when I hold out the bar.

“Ugh. These again? You must really hate me.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop a smirk from pulling at the corner of my mouth. I think a part of me might actually miss his attitude when he’s dead. As fucked up as it might make me, I have kind of enjoyed having him around. “It’s this or nothing. Your choice,” I tell him. I don’t have time to chat today, so I drop it next to him on his air mattress, certain he can reach it.

“Have fun at work, Daddy,” he calls after me as I walk up the stairs to leave. “Bring me back something yummy!”

I snort a laugh. Fucking psycho.

But the whole drive I think about what I could bring him to eat since I’m not going to the restaurant. His favorite thing I’ve brought him so far has been pizza, so maybe I can just pick up a pizza on the way home again for his last meal.

Whatever, I’ll have to figure it out later because I find Grant sitting at the bar surrounded by papers with his laptop open in front of him.

“Oh, thank God. I was starting to think you abandoned me.”

“It’s nine fifteen in the morning and it was supposed to be my day off,” I remind him. “I’m only a few minutes later than I promised you.”

“Fuck, I know. Thank you. And you’re the best best friend ever because I don’t understand what half of this means, and I need your help.” His smile is as wide as he can make it, but the distress in his eyes is obvious.

I’m definitely not the best friend ever because I’m probably going to be the reason his business fails and he loses all of his money, but on the off chance I am surprisingly great at the murder thing, I should probably help him now and make sure everything is properly set up for the opening.

Turns out there was way more than the liquor license left to apply for with the city. We work through lunch, and I don’t leave until almost five p.m., with Grant endlessly thanking me, but all I can think about is how Mason must be starving. I’ve never left him for this long with so little food. I decide to pick him up pizza and a salad on the way home so he doesn’t have to wait for me to make him something.

There’s no way I’ll have time to kill him and properly dispose of his body tonight though.

Plus, the whole background check kind of freaked me out. It just doesn’t seem like the right time. I still don’t have enough of a plan in place to feel like I’ll successfully pull it off. Fuck, I should probably figure out a better setup for him in the meantime.

I see the sex store I went to that first night ahead—god, that feels like a lifetime ago—and have an idea. He can wait a few more minutes for food. I think he’ll appreciate my new plan more, so I pull into the parking lot.

Three stops later, I bring my new purchases down with me as soon as I’m home.

“Is that another bag from the sex shop I spy?” Mason immediately teases, focused more on that than the pizza, so he must not be as hungry as I’d been worrying about. “Did my book finally give you some ideas? Are you ready to admit how much more fun we could be having if you gave in to this tension between us?”

“There’s no tension between us!” I snap, but for some unknown reason it feels like a lie. I don’t know if it’s because I spend all day thinking about him—of killing him—that maybe there is tension between us.

“Suuure.” He winks, and then he must notice the pizza. “Oh my god, is that food for me? I’m starving.”

“It is. I also think I figured out a way to give you a bit more freedom to move around down here.” I take out the chain, stainless steel collar that has a metal ring on the front of it, shorter handcuffs, and locks from my bags.

He grins. “Okay, Kinky Daddy.”

I knew it was coming, but I still roll my eyes before I explain. “I can loop the chain around the pole and attach it to the collar. Then you can move a little more freely.”

“And you couldn’t do that with my ankle?” he challenges in a teasing tone. “You don’t need to pretend like you’re not just looking for an excuse to collar me. I won’t object. What’s next? Are you going to carve your initials into my chest?”

“Oh my god, why do you have to take everything to the extreme? Do you want the collar or not?” I ask in frustration, ignoring the way my dick twitches at the thought of collaring someone the way he’s implying because that’s definitely not what I’m doing.

Mason grins. “Yes, please. My arms are killing me. Being attached around the pole like this isn’t exactly comfortable.”