“Respect my boundaries, Mr. Lucas.”
“Understood.” And all of a sudden, I hate that word. Despise how easily he gives in to my request. This yo-yo’ing is going to drive me crazy. Javier makes me want to run to him and then away, far away, because I’m not ready to let the walls down I’ve built around myself.
This is for the best. Has to be.
“Good.” Snatching my arm from his hold, I continue toward the door. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me walk away, and it confuses the hell out of me, but then a hiss meets my ears and I shiver.
“For now.”
9
MALCOLM GIVES ME a nod before entering the opulent establishment near the Asher building the next morning at ten. The Bennett meeting had to be pushed back due to medical reasons, and while I still don’t believe his wife is okay after what occurred, extending this another day isn’t feasible.
Not when dealing with the sentencing and execution of a man.
Mistakes can be costly. Destructive.
Walking through the lobby, I make eye contact with each man standing beside the three exits and nod. We’re in the heart of the Loop, a few minutes from Malcolm’s financial building, and I’m impressed with the surveillance I’ve seen thus far. Not that it can’t be improved, but he has a solid foundation I can work with.
He owns it, provides all security for it, and only those trusted—business associates that pass through frequently—are allowed to reside within.
I had the choice of an apartment here but chose wisely without knowing.
Mariah can run but can’t get far. She has no idea how close we are.
How easily this predator can reach his prey.
Because that’s what this dance feels like; a game of cat and mouse I don’t plan to lose.
“They’re waiting and the room is ready,” Mariah says from beside him, looking straight ahead while matching his steps. I’m two behind them and watching their dynamic, taking in their reactions from the moment they entered my SUV. They speak through looks and short answers, but behind the professional demeanor is respect and familial love.
“Thank you. Make sure Mr. Bennett is down in five.”
“Already sent him a text, and he’s downstairs.” She’s checking her phone, but I catch the tilt of her head and the slight look back from the corner of her eye. “The guard is also in attendance and awake.”
“Perfect. That’ll be all.” Malcolm stops at the elevator and puts a key to the panel. “Take Javier’s car and head back. I need you to work on the Frederick contract.”
“Are you sure?” Now she does look back and meets my stare. I’m not hiding or avoiding. “I’m more than happy to—”
“Positive.” He kisses her cheek, pulling her attention away from me, and I hate it. Loathe her looking at anyone that isn’t me, but I keep my reactions at bay. This feeling—this rage-fueled jealousy—isn’t something I’ve faced before. It makes me see red. Yearn to feel the life essence of whoever holds her gaze on my fingertips. “I want the twins in and out of my office before they start trying to sell me bullshit I neither care nor have time for.”
“I know.” Mariah laughs and its warmth settles around me, calms the devil within, while my expression remains blank. She sneaks another look after a minute, almost like she can’t help herself, and narrows her eyes at my demeanor. What kind of reaction are you looking for, Muñeca? Are you thinking about our kiss? However, the longer we stare, the more I see what lurks behind those pretty orbs. Something is bothering her. Maybe a hint of annoyance for being asked to leave. “The food has been ordered and the files are ready. We’ll be using conference room two for this one.”
“Will they need an escort to the office?” She doesn’t respond to him, too busy trying to read me. The only things she gets from me, though, are a raised brow and a nod in her cousin’s direction. “Mariah,” he says, and still nada. Not even an acknowledgment of her name.
“Pay attention, Muñeca.” That snaps her out of it and with a quick wave to Malcolm, she rushes out without answering. My eyes follow her the entire way. “I’ll be picking them up.”
“You two are becoming quite entertaining to watch.” He enters the elevator and Carmelo and I follow, not another word spoken on the matter. We ascend to the sixty-eighth floor, and the doors open into a spacious living space with nothing but a large conference table at the center. The room has floor-to-ceiling windows that line the outer walls from one side to the other, the view showing us a slightly overcast day with an uninterrupted view of city landmarks and skyline.
Mr. Bennett sits at one end of the table while the guard is placed at the center, tied to a chair and gagged. His face is swollen and a tooth is missing, and while both men hold enraged expressions, one person is missing.
The wife. The victim.
“How is she?” Malcolm asks, sitting down at the other end while I take my place right across from the aggressor. “Will she be joining us?”
“No.” Kyle doesn’t explain further, and no one probes. Instead, we turn to look at the one person who does owe an explanation. “Speak,” Bennett hisses through clenched teeth a minute later, and the man flinches a bit before composing himself. “Tell me why you earned the bullet in my gun.”
Nothing. No answer.
And all it does is piss me off. More so because no matter what country you’re in, it seems that disrespect is a common trait that all assholes share.
There’s a paperweight at the center of the table and before anyone asks him again, I pick it up and throw it. It lands near the bridge of his nose and a gash appears, the blood rushing to the surface before falling to his lip and filling his mouth.
“The next blow, I’ll aim for your eye with my knife. Answer him,” I say, tone even and low.
He trembles, his fear palpable. “I love her.”
“What did you just say?” Kyle stands, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. His hands come down atop the glass table, the force making it shake while his lip curls up into a snarl. “Repeat that, Douglass.”
Douglass swallows hard, coughing a bit. “I fell in love with Mrs. Bennett.”
“Did she reciprocate?” Malcolm asks, holding a hand up to Kyle who moves in Douglass’s direction. He pauses with a minute nod and waits. We’ve already discussed how to handle him. Get what we want. “Or is this a gut feeling?”
“I knew the day she hired me.” Douglass smiles. It’s wistful, yet there’s ire lingering beneath the surface. His disdain for Mr. Bennett is clear. “She’s sweet and kind. Nothing like this asshole who spends more time making enemies than paying attention to his wife. I was there when he wasn’t. I saw the smile slip from her face each time he canceled a dinner date or weekend away.” No one misses the way Kyle flinches slightly back at that, and it further fuels Douglass. “It was me,” he sneers, and I find his backbone almost comical. Any other man would’ve pissed his pants by now. “Always me.”
“So, she led you on?” At my question, all three look at me, but my focus is on the guard. “Are you saying she’s a—”