The Guru: Shadow (Dark Triad #1)

19. Emma

19

EMMA

PLAYLIST: DANGEROUS GAME – KLERGY (FEAT. BEGINNERS)

B efore he answered, another laugh shattered through the car.

“No, Emma, I am not mafia,” he finally said with a chuckle, pulling her back against his chest. “But that doesn’t mean I am less dangerous,” he whispered darkly while stroking through her hair.

Why don’t you run? asked her reasoning mind. Any normal person would have. Only her mind had no say in the matter anymore. Not because of the money, the fame, or the status. None of it mattered. But that he challenged her darkest self, and for some fucked-up reason, she, for once, wasn’t the most fucked-up person in the room.

“The cars, they are all yours, aren’t they?”

“They are.”

“And your driver, he’s not a normal driver, is he?”

“No, he is not.”

I was right. My instincts are right.

They parked near an elevator, and when the car door was opened for them by the driver, Deis almost lifted her out of the car .

The whole ride up, they did not speak. She was sure they’d go for the penthouse, so the ride was quite long; there were no numbers. She tried not to look at him, but he stared at her so intensely that it made her glance at him again and again. His stare was the very same stare he had on his face back at Stone’s, as if he would x-ray her body while stripping her soul of all masks.

“Holy shit,” she gasped. It was all she could say as the elevator door opened and she stepped out into an entrance of such grandiosity, that it rendered her speechless.

Fucking Billionaire’s Row, she thought in absolute amazement as the beautiful view of Central Park unfolded in front of her eyes.

Unable to grasp where to look first, her gaze fell first onto a painting on her left, definitely a Rembrandt and one hundred percent an original. She stared at the painting, then turned to stare at Deis, who stood leaning casually against the wall, observing her.

Who the hell is this man? Just by having fifty-six million followers doesn’t make you this wealthy.

As she walked further, she turned around and took everything in. There were probably thirty-foot ceilings, 360-degree glass walls, and a grandiose beige couch, which looked as if it cost as much as her apartment. There was also a magnificent piano, offering the player a view of the Hudson River. Opposite, was a colossal windowed spiral staircase, connecting at least three levels.

All of it was beyond anything she had ever believed she would see in her life. She did not want to be rich. None of it mattered to her, except maybe the view. The most amazing thing. The view of all of Manhattan. The Manhattan she loved so much with its unique flair, where you become everyone and no one at the same time, the beat of the buzzing concrete jungle pulsating through its streets. And now she stood in this salon or whatever it should be called, she didn’t even have a name for the grandiosity of its appearance, the city to her feet all around her.

Too much .

How is it even possible?

Me, standing here?

Him kissing me?

She rounded on him, her mouth half open, to excuse herself and get out. She didn’t belong here. She had a maxed-out credit card, student debt, and couldn’t keep a job. And somehow, right this moment, a dark realization hit her of what he had done. What she had done. He was pulling her into the darkness, and she just followed him.

He opposes all my moral rules.

He is abnormally rich.

He dragged me into shit and then he murdered Carl.

I shot Carl.

Fuck !

It was too much, all of it was too much.

“I…I must go,” she stammered and rushed to the elevator.

But he stopped her by grasping her wrist as she passed him.

“No.”

“Deis, I–I don’t belong here, you need to let me go,” she almost pleaded with him. Somehow, being here and seeing what she saw, overwhelmed her. Not only because there seemed to be a mile’s deep rift between them, rubbing the understanding of the magnitude of the differences in their existences under her nose, but also because something in her clenched. It clenched from injustice that one person held so much while billions of people suffered from hunger and lived in the worst of homes – if they even had one. It was not right. She could never live up to this. She didn’t even want to. None of it was right.

Sure, she got used to Manhattan’s controversy by now, the extremely poor and extremely rich living in such close proximity, but this here, him, this penthouse, experiencing it, seeing it with her own eyes, was wealth in a different dimension.

“You belong to me; therefore, you belong here,” he said.

“I…what…Deis, seriously. I don’t belong to you, this was–”

A devilish grin appeared on his face .

“What the hell, Deis?”

And then he pulled her towards him, grasping her face with his free hand.

“You belonged to me the moment you pressed that share button, ma belle . Actually, you belonged to me the moment I saw you.”

No one had ever been so possessive with her, and a part of her wanted to throw herself at him. But she couldn’t let him.

“Deis, this is ridiculous. Let me go.”

When he spoke, his tone had changed. Less playful, therefore colder, almost business-like.

“When you leave, you will find approximately fifty paparazzi in front of the entrance, and they will eat you alive.”

“You got to be kidding me,” she groaned and rolled her eyes.

“Not at all. Take a look at your phone, let alone your Instagram. They know. And they’re coming for you.”

They? Who is they?

Nonetheless, she took out her phone, which was in automatic night shift mode by now, and when she unlocked it, her heart stopped for a second, skipping at least three beats. Her mind went completely blank.

Fuck.

The number of the badge on the Instagram app almost made her drop the phone. She stared at it for a moment, her heart racing, before she pressed the phone against her chest as if it would help make the notifications disappear.

333,333

Suddenly, her mind started working again.

What the fuck. The 3’s again? I didn’t even know the badge number would show that high! This is crazy. This must be a really bad dream.

Her eyes wandered from the phone in her hands up into the eyes of Deis.

“Things come at a price, Em,” he said quietly. “Welcome to my world.”

Welcome to my world. So, are you living in a world of revenge, too ?

Words failed her as thoughts raced through her mind.

People would see. They do see right now. Everything I ever did online.

If I were that interesting, even to the paparazzi, they would find out everything.

“No,” she finally said. “This can’t be true. This is a really bad dream.” And with that, she freed herself from his grip.

But he did not let her go. He stepped behind her, his hand on her back. “Em, come with me, I think you must see for yourself.”

“See what?”

“The extent. Come.”

I need to wake up.

He guided her through the entrance to the staircase, to the first of the lower levels. While they walked, he said, “Ed, put it on, all of it, study.”

What the fuck?

“He listens?”

She asked incredulously, all of her hoping he’d deny it.

“They all listen, always.”

“Who is they?”

“Security.”

She stopped in her tracks. This was like a prison. Only the billionaire edition.

“Did they listen in Central Park, too?” And she stared at him standing right in front of her. She knew the answer before he said it. But when he did, hearing it, hearing that god knows how many others heard everything, he pulled the rug under her. The violation of privacy was beyond measure.

“Partially. But they are sworn to secrecy,” he said. And as he must’ve seen the revulsion in her eyes, he added, “They have seen and heard worse, believe me.”

What could be worse? Nothing, absolutely fucking nothing.

“Deis, this is sick. Like end-level sick. That’s not security, that’s prison, supermax-like.”

He did not answer immediately, instead, he stripped her bare with his piercing look .

“The difference is, this is by choice, and I have all the power and control.”

“Do you?”

His eyes flashed intensely at her.

“I mean, is it truly control, if you always need others to control what’s happening to and around you? Sounds like an illusion to me.”

“You’ll get used to it, now come.”

The fuck I will.

And he pointed towards a door on her left.

Entering, a scent of old books and whiskey went up her nose. Breathing it in, the lump in her throat loosened a bit, as there was nothing more soothing to her than the scent of old books.

Glancing around, she took in the same grandiosity the whole penthouse had, but this study – or should she say, library – was somehow different. There were no windows here, and it had a soothing warmth about it. It wasn’t just as clean as the rest of the penthouse. Here, stories existed, and books of all sizes and colors gave the room a wilder touch. This room lived, truly lived, while the rest of the penthouse was as clean as a whistle.

Deis went over to the old wooden desk, with beautiful carvings and opened the MacBook that lay on it.

“Turn around,” he ordered her.

But he didn’t need to say it. She had heard the humming sound next to the shelves on her left. A huge display automatically came out of the ceiling; it was so massive, the height measured more than her whole body was.

“This-” a dozen live feeds appeared on the screen, “-is live footage from outside. The main entrance, the garage, and as you can see, they are even at your address.”

Her stomach sank to the ground. There were people watching, cameras ready. Some even trying to enter the apartment building. Heavy breaths issued from her throat and there it was again, that tingling sensation as the world zoomed in.

I have nowhere to go anymore .

What if they break in?

Go through my stuff?

What if I am constantly monitored?

I can’t deal with that shit.

I don’t want the attention.

This was never supposed to happen!

The world zoomed in on her once again, slowly detaching her from reality as her heart raced with beats so fast it pounded up into her throat, fired by panic and overwhelm. There was no going back, and she was caught in whatever the hell this was.

And then she could feel him against her back, his hand wrapped around her, just like the first time they met.

“No need to panic,” he whispered against her ear, blowing some strands of her hair into her face with his breath. “It is all under control, I am here, and I will protect you, also, I have people taking care of your things.”

What is it about him and his presence that calms me down? She leaned into his touch.

“It is all under control.”

His lips trailed along her neck.

“Greg is keeping them away from your apartment, we’ll keep them away from people who know you, they won’t get access to your life. Everything online is handled as well.”

His hands pressed her so tight against him, and as she closed her eyes, everything was alright.

“How do they even know?” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“They’re paparazzi, they always know, they have sources, and social media gives them enough to figure things out, but it’s nothing problematic, we made sure of that.”

Her mind raced again and tried to connect the dots. But there was something missing. The most important piece of the puzzle was missing. She needed the missing piece, so she pushed herself away from him and out of his grip.

“But so fast? What do they want? Why am I so important? Why are you so important?”

“They want money, like everyone. And I have money. Scandals make mone y, so the nobody and me, that is a scandal – hottest gossip – that makes money. If they don’t find enough, they’ll make shit up, whatever is more sensational wins. But, like I said, it is all under control. We’ll feed them enough, so they’ll shut up, and it’ll all be over in a week. Plus, you got revenge.”

He was still dodging her question, and she would not let it rest.

“Deis. Who are you? Why are you so important?”

“I already answered that.”

“No. You gave me what everyone else wants to see. But that’s not the real you. The real you put a bullet in Carl Pearson tonight. So, what aren’t you telling me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, while his eyes had become dark.