Like everyone else after the economic crash, Abby Torrance was struggling financially. But then Dorian Lincoln, a political and business icon, sweeps her off her feet and into a life of promise. He’s a man who has enough power to change the world for the better, a man who can give hope to the masses, a man who can give Abby a baby.
But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions and Abby is having strange dreams that seem both a warning and a prophesy. How can she give the evil undertones of her dreams any notice when she’s busy focusing on conceiving?
Excerpt of Conceiving Evil
Dammit to hell. I can’t even enjoy a movie.
The nighttime air bit at my skin as thoughts of him chomped at my brain. He’d polluted me like a poison that spread throughout my mind and body, seizing every thought, leaving no rest. I loved horror movies and yet I couldn’t recall a single scene. Jimmie kept glancing at me, concern etching his face all the way through the ninety-minute show.
Soon Jimmie and I walked out of the theater, my hand resting in the crook of his elbow. Bitterness raged inside, heating my face against the breeze when I saw the limo roll toward us. He found me like he always said he would, but three fucking hours late.
I knew I wasn’t Dorian’s top priority, and I’d made some progress at keeping my jealousy under control, but no woman wanted to be shoved to the side every time it was convenient for a man. I tightened my grip on Jimmie’s sleeve and pulled him along just as the driver stepped into our path. I gave the chauffeur a shotgun-glare as he motioned me to the car. “Miss Torrance, Mr. Lincoln is waiting.”
My heart skipped ten beats, I couldn’t tear my eyes away when the dark window lowered and Dorian tousled his ebony hair with his fingers. He wasn’t in his usual attire, a business suit. Tonight he presented himself in casual wear. His sharp, handsome features were expressionless.
I closed my eyes, digging deep for the strength to tell him to get lost for standing me up, but I knew the words would never make it past my lips. I was a fool to entertain the thought. One look from those black eyes sifted me like wheat. Dorian practically owned me. That man was my tempter and my savior wrapped into one.
I met him at the lowest point of my life, after my mother died of cancer. The three jobs I was working to keep my head above water and pay off her medical bills were about to do me in physically. While I was waiting tables at the country club, Dorian swooped in from out of nowhere and rescued me like an injured bird. His amazing sixth sense alerted him that life was too much for me, and he offered me a strong shoulder to cry on. The floodgates opened and I unloaded my personal problems. Dorian Lincoln promised those problems would disappear with a simple acceptance of his proposition: give him power over my body, something Bianca wouldn’t allow.
Lifting my palm to Jimmie’s cheek, I smiled. “Thanks for the movie. I’ll call you next week.”
“He’s a prick. You deserve better, Abby!” Jimmie yelled, as I eased myself inside the limo.
Dorian opened a small refrigerator under the seat, his hands cupping the base of a champagne glass. “You’ve wasted no time finding another way of entertaining yourself this evening.”
“You wasted no time in standing me up,” I scoffed.
When I left his office that afternoon, Dorian said he wanted me for some ‘quality time.’ Eight-thirty rolled around before I realized he was a no-show. The food got cold and eventually the long stemmed candles I lit for dinner burned out, along with my patience.
“Meetings...clients,” he said.
Top secret meetings and clients were always the excuse. The coldness in his voice was a sword to my heart, a reminder of my temporary ranking in his life. I held on tight to his promise of our relationship becoming more when the time was right.
His stony expression broke into a devious grin. “You look beautiful in that dress and your enthusiasm is charming. But watching you masturbate will reimburse me, Miss Torrance.”
My stomach dropped and quivered as I pressed my thighs together. He was going to punish me.
I tugged at the straps of the red shoes he’d bought me, eyeing him as he sipped from the flute and moved his gaze toward the window. Overtaken by the need to be the object of his fascination, I almost begged him to turn those onyx eyes back on me. His attention was the only thing that kept me from going under.
“Dorian, please I-”
My words were cut off with the sharp turn of his head. Relief came in a warm caress, but suspicion moved in with a lift of his brow. The small amount of light coming through the tinted windows deepened the masculine angles of his face, lending them a sternness that echoed in his voice.
“No other men. I thought I was quite clear about that when we discussed the terms of our agreement, three months ago.”
“Jimmie is just a friend.”
“Jimmie is a man. A distraction.”
“A distraction from being pissed. I don’t like being stood up.”
AVAILABLE EXCLUSIVE ON AMAZON