The Darkest Temptation by Danielle Lori EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Danielle Lori
- Language: English
- Genre: Gothic Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3 MB
- Price: Free
Fernweh
(n.) an ache for a distant place
Mila
Breath ragged from the run, I dropped my heels on the grass and padded
barefoot across our manicured lawn, not stopping until I’d climbed onto the
rocky embankment and felt the cool waves lapping at my toes and the hem
of my evening dress. I panted as sweat glistened on my skin beneath the
heavy moon. A gentle breeze tousled my long hair, rustling the palm trees
and my lacy cap sleeves, but the paradise constrained me as tightly as the
Dior belt around my waist.
The five-mile run wasn’t enough to shake the combustible feeling that
expanded inside—though, as always, the sea held me back.
I itched to rip the pearls from my neck, to tear my dress to shreds like
Cinderella’s stepsisters had, but doing so would demolish a facade I’d
maintained for so long I wasn’t sure what lay beneath. So, instead, I dug my
French-tipped nails into my palms.
There had to be more than this, more than a world behind The
Moorings’ gates, but the desire for more than a life of opulence inflated a
kernel of guilt in my stomach. Staring out at Biscayne Bay, the wide,
glittering path that led to the endless ocean, I felt as adrift and stagnant as
the buoy that bobbed in the water. The only difference was, I was floating
on a mundane sea of expectations.
I closed my eyes and mentally recited, Je vais bien. Tu vas bien. Nous
allons bien. I am okay. You are okay. We are okay.
I was allowed only a few seconds alone before Ivan’s familiar presence
caressed my back. He moved to stand beside me, his suit jacket touching
my bare arm.
“You cannot run off like that, Mila.” A Russian accent and exertion
roughened the edge of his voice.
The smallest amount of humor arose at the visual of Ivan chasing me
through Miami’s streets in a suit and a grumpy disposition, but the
amusement faded with the next wave that washed up on the rocks.
“If you keep following me like a stalker, I’m gonna end up catching
feelings,” I said drily.
He gave me a look. “You know it is my job.”
Ivan had come home with my papa after one of his business trips to
Moscow years ago. Having been only thirteen at the time, and him eight
years my senior, I’d thought he was the most handsome boy I’d ever seen.
I’d fallen in love with his accent and endearingly limited knowledge of
English, and I couldn’t have embarrassed myself more by following him
around our spacious Spanish Colonial home.
Now, he followed me.
One hand rested in his pants pocket, and the other held out a small red
velvet box. “From your papa.”
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