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  Black Heart

  Book #1

  K. L. Rymer Social

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  Black Heart

  Copyright ©2019 by K. L. Rymer

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

  ASIN: B07XF846P2

  Cover Illustration by GermanCreative

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Foreword

  1. Eli

  2. Crystal

  3. Eli

  4. Crystal

  5. Crystal

  6. Eli

  7. Crystal

  8. Eli

  9. Crystal

  10. Crystal

  11. Eli

  12. Crystal

  13. Eli

  14. Crystal

  15. Eli

  16. Crystal

  17. Misaki

  18. Eli

  19. Eli

  20. Crystal

  21. Eli

  22. Crystal

  23. Eli

  24. Crystal

  25. Misaki

  26. Eli

  27. Crystal

  28. Eli

  29. Crystal

  30. Eli

  1. Crystal

  Foreword

  Thank you for taking an interest in my book. This is a slow burn romance with a guaranteed HEA at the end of the series (no spoilers). A sneak peek has also been provided for book 2 with an abrupt ending in case any readers mistake it for a cliff-hanger.

  ...

  The main character, Eli, is somewhat of a potty mouth and not the most sympathetic at first. The same for his twisted cousin, Misaki, who may not be the most respectable of female characters. My inspiration for them comes from the likes of Gossip Girl and Cruel Intentions, but with a demonic, paranormal twist.

  ...

  I guarantee you will grow to love these rich, beautiful arseholes.

  ...

  Enjoy.

  1. Eli

  White smoke curls from my lips as I puff on a cigarette, watching the rain as it taps the window outside. The sky has become one long, miserable grey cloud, the blueness of yesterday all but forgotten.

  Good, because I hate the sunshine.

  My pallid face reflects off the glass, dark hollows resting beneath my eyes as a show of last night’s sexual exploits.

  I look like shit, but that’s because I never slept a wink. Too busy fucking the model that currently rests on the four-poster beside me.

  The black sheets only cover so much of her naked skin, my bite mark still visible around her bruised nipple (I have no shame).

  Her name’s Sophia, a model from... Hell, who cares. With London being one of the fashion capitals of the world, beautiful women travel from afar.

  And I fuck them all. One by one. Sometimes all together.

  I’m Eli Black, professional playboy after all. And demon too, but that’s another tale...

  Sophia stirs in her sleep and I roll my eyes, taking another drag of my cigarette. So much for a moment’s peace; I’m going to need it before Misaki arrives.

  Her lids flutter open, revealing chocolate brown eyes, and then a lustful smile curves her full lips. “Eli... come back to bed...”

  I wince at the thought of her morning breath and stay by the window. The sexiest bitches always have the worst breath... and not to mention farts (of which she did twice in her sleep).

  Disgusting.

  “It’s time you left, Sophia.” My voice is brisk, but it’s the only way to get the message across; I want her naked arse out of my bed.

  She smirks and sits up, letting the covers fall from her slender, tanned body. Both her breasts are on full display, and I’m half-tempted to jump back under the sheets and bite down on her nipples again. But I hold back.

  “I said, no. Now hurry up. I’m expecting someone.”

  Yet the model still persists, and climbs out of bed, prowling closer. Her brown eyes level with mine. She’s tall, about six foot. My height.

  The way I like them best.

  Sophia curls her arms around my neck, and I wasn’t wrong about the morning breath. It’s like a rat died in her mouth, and I pull away.

  Absolutely vile.

  “Just one more romp under the covers, then I go home,” she purrs, brushing a finger down my nose.

  A heavy sigh leaves my lips, and then I stare deep into her eyes. It always has to come to this, but there was no other way to get them to leave. In the end, I had to thrall them. Something of a gift of mine.

  Sophia’s face falls flat, and then her arms drop by her sides.

  “Go home, Sophia,” I order, my voice deep and monotonous.

  With zombie-like fashion, she collects the few meagre garments she wore last night, such as a slutty, sparkly dress that could pass for a napkin, and a pair of gold heels. When she finishes dressing, she clicks out of the room, a good few inches taller, and now I’m a munchkin in comparison.

  Her taste still lingers in my mouth, combined with cigarette smoke, and I move towards the bathroom to wash up before Misaki arrives.

  Misaki’s my first cousin. Our fathers are brothers, and rumour has it that she wants to inherit Black Industries, our family’s company. No chance. With my father being the eldest of the Black brothers, the company’s mine.

  She’s four years younger than I am, and a vindictive little bitch. But she’s a good-looking bitch though, and she knows it.

  With a Japanese mother, she inherited the dark eyes and long, sleek black hair, but she has all the cunning of a Black.

  I have no doubt in my mind about that.

  The Blacks are one of the most prestigious families in Britain, owning a large estate dating back to the early seventeenth century. Old paintings adorn the Black Mansion’s walls, all lords and ladies of times long past. My great, great grandfather, Lord Elias Black, even founded the family business in the early 20th century, an exports company with shares in oil and tobacco. The company’s expanded since, and now has trades in construction, hospitality and entertainment, beyond other things.

  As you can imagine, we are filthy, stinking rich.

  Though the Blacks have a dark secret. One kept from the rest of the world.

  We are of demon descent.

  No one knows where our ancestors originate. Some would say we may be descended from The Devil himself, but that’s bullshit. Hell does indeed exist, but it exists on earth. Always has, always will.

  But of course, all things exist in opposites. If there’s a family of demonic descendants, then there’s surely a lineage of the purest, heavenliest beings of all.

  Angels.

  And their current head and ruler was one of the biggest scumbags to have graced the earth: Lord Michael White.

  He’d taken the only person I ever loved from me.

  Lily Black had had a heart of gold and loved me unconditionally. I’d even inherited her good looks from the steel grey eyes to the fair skin and jet black hair, and it pained me every day to look in a mirror.

  She was an innocent, blameless woman — an ordinary human. My father had put her under his thrall so he could produce an heir (because no woman in their right mind would bear his child willingly), and nine months later I was born, the most black-hearted child to have ever been spaw
ned.

  I’m evil. There are no two ways about it. But not my mother... She’d been one of the good ones. Almost saint-like.

  I should have died that day. Not her.

  Not to worry though. I will soon get my revenge. I’ve been tracking White down for years, searching everything there is to know about the heavenly man. To the people, he appears as a kind-hearted public figure. A philanthropist, always giving to charity while striving to better the world.

  However, it appears Mr Perfect hasn’t always been, well... perfect. He’s still a man after all, and we men all have our urges...

  After I shower, I slip into a tailor-made black suit, fasten my cravat around my neck, and step out of the room. On my way down the stairs, I bump into Olga, my maid.

  She’s currently sweeping the bannister. I stop a moment, brushing a hand beneath the smooth wood, and my fingers bring up dust.

  I may like my women dirty, but my house spotless. I’m something of a clean freak.

  Filth is the real devil. Remember that.

  Olga could give two shits about my OCD as she gives me a stern look. She’s a severe woman with stark black hair and matching eyes, and always swears in Polish when she thinks I’m not listening.

  We get along really, exchanging banter on a daily basis, but she still regards me as a spoilt little rich boy.

  The woman’s been like a second mother to me since my own died. I even brought her to live with me in London, and I never looked back. The sooner I got away from the estate, the better.

  “Tsk, tsk,” I say, wiping my dusty fingers on a handkerchief. “This just isn’t good enough, Olga. I expect better from you. Every surface must be free of dirt. Even the darkest, most unseen places...”

  Olga sneers, stretching her thin, menacing lips, then hovers the duster close to my face. “As you wish, young master. Would you like for me to sweep under your dark, unseen place too, and give a good clean there?”

  The corners of my mouth pull up. “That can always be arranged...”

  Her cheeks burn red and then she whacks me with the duster, disappearing up the stairs while swearing in Polish.

  I chuckle to myself and continue down the stairs. Misaki waits for me in the foyer, adjusting her hat before a mirror.

  Giles, my butler, must have let her in.

  She turns my way, narrowing those dark, feline eyes. “You took your time.”

  I pause on the bottom step, taking my time further. She ought to know I’m not fully functional until at least nine-thirty, and I haven’t even had coffee yet.

  Fuck her attitude.

  My eyes rove over her outfit. All black with a matching oversized hat. She thinks she’s Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany’s or something.

  In fact, she’s not far off.

  Misaki went to private school in New York and has developed a strange, transatlantic accent in the process. Sometimes she’s British, and sometimes she’s American. And sometimes she’s something in between, a thing of nightmares, and I shiver just thinking about her split persona.

  Uncle Roger, Misaki’s father, moved to the Big Apple for business when she was fourteen years old. He’d hoped it would do her good and teach her proper etiquette, but the high life of Manhattan only got to her head. She spent more time shopping and partying, stumbling out of night clubs while climbing the social ladder. When she was done with New York, she came back to London and stumbled out of every night club there, too.

  The local tabloids love her.

  “Well, what are we waiting for? I’m starved.” She storms into the dining room, leaving me on the stairs.

  I clench my teeth and follow her into the room. A crystal chandelier hangs above a gleaming mahogany table, one serving dishes of poached eggs, smoked bacon, and spiced sausages.

  Misaki goes for a bowl of porridge, while I tuck into my bacon and eggs. I need all the energy I can get after last night.

  My cousin’s going through her ‘vegan’ phase at the moment. She could care less about animals and the environment; she just follows whatever diet’s currently on trend.

  Besides, she has a closet full of leather bags and fur coats. Can you spell hypocrite?

  We eat in silence. Giles stands off to one side, silent and solemn.

  “So, any exciting news to share?” I ask, wanting to rip my tongue out.

  I despise small talk.

  She gives me a scathing look over her bowl of bland porridge and rolls her eyes. “Really, cousin? You don’t have to pretend you actually care about my life.”

  “I don’t, but I’m just being polite. You are my guest after all.” I give a mocking smile. It hurts my cheeks. Smiling isn’t something that comes naturally to me.

  “Well, if you really must know. Lilac got her lips done, but they look like a baboon’s arse. Penelope has chlamydia, and Beth’s still in rehab. Nothing new or exciting. Oh, and Bryony’s pregnant. Again. A shame...”

  I take a sip of my black coffee, wishing I could turn back the hands of time and rip out my tongue like I’d wanted. I could have gone a whole lifetime without hearing about Misaki’s boring friends. I’ve still fucked them all, regardless, and Misaki resents me to this day. There’s not a friend of hers I haven’t claimed (I got myself checked after sleeping with Penelope though).

  Misaki pops a silver spoon into her mouth. “So, how about you, Cuz? Anything new?”

  An exasperated sigh leaves my lips. “I slept with another model last night, but nothing exciting. Well, not for me.”

  “Good for you. I hope she gives you herpes.”

  I roll my eyes. “And I love you too, dear cousin.”

  Silence once again.

  Misaki really was hard work. We do this every Sunday. Perhaps it’s tradition, who knows. But I dread these mornings the most.

  The girl truly was warped. Whereas I was brainwashing the household staff to give me extra servings of pudding, she was manipulating the servants’ children, making them do awful things. One little girl ended up with permanent damage.

  Absolutely evil.

  But that’s Misaki, the reason why her parents want nothing to do with her anymore. Her father’s now living in Dubai while her mother went back to Japan years ago. I’m all she has, and it may be the reason I tolerate her so much.

  Maybe I do have a heart deep down?

  We still had good times together. Even if our fun was at the expense of others, like the time we fed dog shit to the family chauffeur or locked the cook’s son inside the pantry, we were like siblings. Twins even.

  My mind wanders back to White, and a dark prickle spreads down my spine.

  Misaki lived for gossip. She would love this.

  “You’ll never guess what a little bird told me...”

  She looks up, arching one of her perfectly pencilled brows. Misaki never went a day without makeup. “I think you need to lay off the drugs, cousin. Birds don’t talk. Unless you’re turning into Snow White? You’ve already got the sickly complexion.”

  A dark chuckle leaves my lips. “No. It’s not drugs...”

  “Then what?” she asks, chewing on a grape.

  I turn to Giles. He stands as still as ever, and I swear he looks dead sometimes.

  “Leave us, Giles,” I order.

  With a straight back, the man leaves the room, shutting the door carefully behind him. I look back at Misaki.

  She raises her brow again. “Well?”

  I lean closer, fixing my eyes on her dark ones. “I may finally have leverage on White.”

  She groans, falling back in her seat. “This again?”

  “Yes,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “That man killed my mother. Your auntie, Misaki, and I’m going to make him pay.”

  Misaki props her elbows on the table, her gaze riveted on me. “Let me guess... he doesn’t shit gold? Wait till the whole world hears about this!”

  She cackles, and my insides rage.

  The tabloids were always talking about how generous and kind White
was, handing out money as if it grew on trees. Well, it does for people like us, but that’s beside the point. The man liked to show the world he lived a modest lifestyle by spending less of his money and giving it to others, and it grated on my nerves.

  Apparently, his house was made from all natural materials. A grass roof, straw interior, but I see behind the façade. The man truly was evil. No one gives that much without expecting anything in return.

  “Shut the fuck up, Misaki, and listen. My informants looked into White’s past, and discovered something scandalous.”

  “Well, I do live for scandal,” she says.

  The corners of my mouth twitch. “It appears our giver of peace wasn’t always so just. He’d had himself a pretty little mistress once upon a time. An American woman.”

  Her eyes sparkle and she sits up, folding her hands on the table. “I’m listening.”

  My heart thuds against my chest as I take a deep breath. I still seldom believe it myself. “They bore a child, and that child currently lives in London. Louisiana born and bred.”

  A smirk grows over Misaki’s glossed lips. “My, that is quite the revelation. So, what do you plan to do with this poor bastard child?”

  My heart beats faster at the prospect. If angel descendants were anything like their demon counterparts, then they don’t come into their full powers until the age of twenty-one.

  The child’s date of birth was August 31st, 1998, on the file my men sent me. I have just over five weeks. Five weeks before I can have an angel in my possession.

  That would really grind White’s gears.

  “I hear the bastard’s a she, and I think you very well know what I plan to do with it.”

  Misaki snorts, taking me suddenly by surprise. “You think you can thrall her? If she’s truly White’s daughter, then she’ll be immune to your demon powers.”

  My hopes at avenging my late mother shatter to a million pieces.

  Shit. How could I forget?

  My cousin bursts into hysterics, and my blood simmers at the sound of her grating voice. “Did you really not think this through?”

  I run a hand through my hair, releasing a pent-up breath. Misaki continues to cackle like a witch.

  This wasn’t good. Five weeks before White’s bastard comes into power. Five bloody weeks. What was I going to do?