“This is good, Eve, this is really good.”

The sound of my new editor’s enthusiasm rouses me from my thoughts. I turn away from the window and smile down at him as he pores over my copy for the third time this morning. I’ve spent the last few months investigating the rise and downfall of a Ponzi-type scheme that has gripped and devastated the upper societies of New York in equal measure. Dante was right. It appears that dangerous criminals lurk in every facet of life.

“Thanks Rob,” I say, grinning at my overweight, overworked but perennially cheerful boss as he sits back in his chair to consider printing schedules.

“We’ll run this at the weekend. Front page. Excellent work again, Miss Miller.”

“Does this mean I get a corner desk?”

He tips his balding head back and laughs. “Lets see what the circulation figures look like first, shall we? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I return his good humor with another quick smile then head for the door, running my fingers along the delicate chain of my necklace as I do. I’ve given up biting my nails. I have a new habit now and I catch myself doing it often.

The necklace arrived fourteen days after I was rescued from the dockside dressed only in my underwear and covered in blood, mute from shock, surrounded by dead bodies and unable to explain what the hell had just happened to me.

It was delivered with no note but I knew who’d sent it, even before I opened the exclusive black box with the embossed lettering spelling out the name of a famous jeweller renowned the whole world over. Resting on a light grey velvet cushion was an exquisite silver necklace featuring a pendant like no other. It consisted of three numbers spelt out in dozens of tiny diamonds.

‘666’

The mark of the devil.

The mark of Dante Santiago.

A man who has branded himself across my heart and soul forever.

The authorities aren’t buying my story of ‘wrong place, wrong time’, even though Rick had Manuel’s body removed and my apartment cleaned up for me. Thanks to Dante, I recognize a tail when I see it, and the FBI aren’t exactly discreet. I’m being watched 24/7, and I tell myself that this is the real reason he hasn’t returned for me yet.

I may have forgiven Dante for what he did to my family but my family won’t forgive me. I’ve put my father in an impossible position and I hate myself for it. He knows exactly who Sebastian Días is. He knows it was him who stole me away. He holds the key to linking me with the man who murdered his only son but he’s keeping my secret safe for now. I may disgust him, he may think I’m a traitor to my brother’s memory, but he doesn’t want to see my locked up either. I’m still hoping that one day he’ll understand.

“Are you coming out for drinks tonight?” Rob calls out after me.

“Sure. You’re buying right?”

“After you turned in a piece like that? Damn right I am.”

“I’ll see you at six then.”

I make my way along the corridor and back to my desk, pausing for a moment to gaze out at the familiar sprawling skyline of Miami. I know he’s out there. Sometimes I’ll catch the last few threads of the news and I’ll find myself face to face with the hallmarks of his handiwork. The African dictator cut down in a hail of bullets, the rogue snipers who assassinated a wanted terrorist. He’s still slaking his bloodlust. He still hasn’t broken the cycle but perhaps in time…

In the immediate weeks and months following that night I found myself questioning my place in the world and my whole identity. How could I profess to be a good person and then kill a man and feel no remorse for it?

How could I love a man like him?

I’m still searching for the answer to that. We’re all flawed and broken in some way and it’s up to us to find happiness in the unlikeliest of places. Sometimes in the unlikeliest of men.

My pulse quickens as I remember his hard body looming over me and those deliciously tense moments right before he thrusts himself inside me.

I miss his touch, his scent, and his words.

I miss the way he makes my body scream with need.

I miss the dark and dirty way he twists my emotions to satisfy his every whim.

I miss how he pushes me all the way to my limits and beyond, smashing through my barriers in his haste to claim me. Like I’m the only woman alive who can calm the storm that’s raging inside.

I close my eyes and finger my necklace chain again, willing the beat between my legs to subside. Maybe it’s ok to hover on the edge of morality for Dante Santiago. We will never be conventional after all.

My dark and dangerous lover.

My reason for living.

“Oh, where are you, Dante?” I murmur for the twentieth time that day. And just like before I swear I can hear him answering me from the shadows.

“I’m here with you, my angel… Always.”