2
“I’m sorry, but the legal papers have been signed by both parties. There is nothing we can do.”
My lawyer looks down at his hands, trying to avoid eye contact with me. That is what everyone does. They never look me in the eye, but soon I will lose even that power I have over people.
“Fuck!” I swipe my arm across the table, grab the pencil holder, and throw it across the room. Papers fly everywhere. I really am losing everything.
It’s been close to a week, and I have been in meeting after meeting. Not a single person is ready or willing to help me get back what is rightfully mine. I wish I could say owning a significant number of shares in my company means something, but the reality is that the contract my father signed to hand the company over to Helia Nashwood is real. He actually signed it. The lawyer showed me the document just now, and it’s not a forged document. And that means Helia is now the owner of the shares my father once held. His shares are greater than mine.
Helia has shaken the very ground I stood on. The one thing that I was hoping could keep me sane, the one thing that belonged to me, has been snatched out of my hands and given to a devil whose eyes I am starting to hate.
Sharp eyes filled with poison. He looks like he wants to consume my world, leaving me standing in nothing but ashes of what I had. The scar running down his eye only lends credence to his look. He evokes fear in me, but I will never admit that out loud.
I was the finance manager before Dad died, before the announcement of the new CEO, but now I am uncertain about everything. It’s not that I missed going to such an important meeting; it’s that I was never told, not invited, when all active board members should have been there.
What will I do?
What do I have left?
I have spent the whole day in my room staring at my laptop screen, scrolling for hours, trying to decide whether I should barge into Helia’s office and demand for him to give me back my company or if I should build a case against him that he won’t win and take him to court.
I should have made Dad sign the company over to me when he was alive, but he had to go make deals with the wrong people, getting himself killed in the process and leaving absolutely nothing to his family. My mum, Leysa Torre, left for Glasgow after my father died just two months ago. Since then, I had been preparing myself to take over Glamorous, but as I stood in front of Helia in that office, watching his eyes rake over me in undisguised disgust, it made me reel back and ask myself exactly why he thought so little of me when he didn’t even know me.
I have been labelled as rude, spoiled even, and I admit I was privileged, but my work is not something I lack skills in. I am good at what I do. That is undeniable. The success of my father’s business is because of me. My decisions. My plans. I have worked for this moment my whole life, waiting for the day my father handed the company over to me.
Only to have some stranger waltz in my life, insult me, and snatch it out of my hands before I can taste the success I was working towards.
I want to know what he knows about me, not because I care about anyone’s opinion, but because I need to know who I am fighting against and what he has on me.
I get up, stretch the kinks out of my back, and change into my yoga clothes as the night falls outside. I block everything from the day and the past few months so I can focus on calming my mind.
My curtains flap against the harsh wind outside as I place a yoga mat on the floor in front of the balcony.
I stretch my legs and arms before sitting down in a lotus position. Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths in and out.
Doing yoga at the end of the day helps me keep my mind in check and helps me organise my thoughts.
And then they start.
The voices and screams.
The pained cries.
My body twitches with the reminder of everything from my past.
I force myself to stay still as I try not to move and not recall what happened.
My body starts to strain, my muscles tightening as the screams get louder and louder. My heart clenches inside my chest, and my lip trembles before the pounding in my head starts to take over.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Louder and louder.
My eyes snap open, and I gasp.
My hold on my body fails, and I fall forward. Sweat covers my back and chest. I take deep breaths to level my breathing, but the screams and cries in my mind don’t dim.
They never will.
Pressing into my hands and feet, I push up into a downward-facing dog pose, taking deep breaths as I will my body to relax, and let the practise wash away my worries, even if only temporarily.
After a couple of poses, I get into a plank. My arms and upper body start shaking after five minutes, and only then does my mind open and the screams begin once more. The cries for help. The helpless looks on their faces.
I bite my lip to contain my frustration, to just hold on a little longer.
Then all of a sudden, that prickling feeling of being watched slowly crawls up my neck to my head until it rests there, making me stiffen. It’s hot, it’s terrifying, and it makes me want to curl up in a small corner of my room with my knees up to my chest and shut my eyes tightly.
He’s here.
He’s here again, and just like clockwork, he has arrived at the exact moment my body breaks.
Like he knows this is my most vulnerable time, the only time when I let my demons take over, just so I can remind myself of the pain I caused others and how I deserve the same.
Nothing I do will fix it.
Instantly, I drop my knees forward and sit up.
With my hands shaking, I look away from the black mat in front of me and turn to glance outside my curved balcony. My curtains flap harder against the wind. Droplets of rain splatter on the marble floor of the balcony, a light warning of an incoming storm. And just like that, the calm night turns into one filled with terrors and fears. One that hides the worst of the monsters that lurk in the shadows, ready to take the souls of those who don’t deserve to live.
Sometimes I wonder if I might be one of those few who will meet their fate like this.
My heart pounds inside of me.
For more than a month, I have caught glimpses of him. Each night, without fail.
Slowly getting up on weak and shaky legs, I hold my breath as I step forward, pausing just at the threshold of the safety barrier of my house. With bare feet and nothing on my face to protect me from the dangers of the outside, no clothes that make me feel confident enough to fight back, I peek out.
And, as if muscle memory kicks in, my eyes move to that one spot on the right at the back garden. In the bushes, leaning against a tree, I see him.
And the skip in my heartbeat almost makes me stumble back a step.
Every day I see him standing there, and fear and curiosity have filled me in a way that I don’t understand. I am terrified of the man who leans against the tree every night in my garden. His hood covers the top part of his face, leaving his lips visible as he smokes. The puff he releases makes me want to run far, far away.
The first time I saw the figure, I instantly called security. They searched the perimeter of the property, but they found no one, and I didn’t see him again that night.
He was there the next day. And the next day. And the next day. I kept shouting at my security for being so damn useless that they weren’t able to catch a man who was right there every night. I changed the security team and updated the security cameras, but I was never able to catch him. I thought I was going crazy and it could be my karma.
“He was right here. How could you not see him?”
“I’m sorry, miss, but there is nothing setting off the alarm system.”
“You are working with him, aren’t you?”
Now I am alone in a mansion that is bigger than any normal house should be, with only a few maids and my security detail to accompany me. I’ve never felt lonelier than I have these past two months.
It could be life playing its own twisted game and wanting me to suffer the way I made others suffer. Maybe it thought that me trying to fight my own demons every night wasn’t enough and I needed to suffer greater fear.
So I learned to deal with it. To let the fear take over me as I watch his sinister smile take over his lips under the hood.
The sight grabs at my heartstring and pulls until I feel a painful ache.
My stalker has been here every night like a reminder that I will never escape the wrong I’ve done.
I hold still, leaning back slightly to avoid catching his attention any further, not moving a single bone or muscle in my body as I keep my eyes on him. He just stands there, his head dropped back against the tree. His sharp jaw comes into view, along with the grin that has me gasping for air.
I can’t look at him.
I can’t bear to see him.
Glancing behind me, I turn, then hesitantly close the doors to my balcony and shut the curtains, breathless and heaving.
And when sleep overtakes me, it’s filled with nightmares, which are getting worse. When I wake up, I go through the routine of showering and getting ready with nothing on my mind, and yet as soon as I grab the deep green heels that I wanted to contrast with my black suit with a mesh top, the image of a certain man with the same coloured eyes comes into my mind.
My grip tightens on the strap of the heels. Should I wear them or not?
Fuck him, and fuck his stupid smirk.
I will wear what I want.
So I do. Then I stride out of my house, climb into my Audi, and drive to the building that was supposed to be mine but is now in the hands of someone I am starting to despise. Actually, not starting to, because what I currently feel for Helia Nashwood is nothing but hate.
I hate him with all my might.
For taking my company.
For leaving me with nothing and now forcing me to accept whatever conditions he may set for working under him. Certainly, I can try to convince my younger sister to talk to her husband about this. Remo Cainn and Helia were both in the picture, so there is some link between them. I just need to know exactly what to do to get back what is mine.
For now, I have to accept a small defeat. But small losses are nothing but a stepping stone for the final battle.
I stride towards his office. When no one in the building stops me, I know he is expecting me. This twisted monster was expecting me, and that only makes me firmer in my decision. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, curious but hesitant.
I look back at them all, sliding my gaze across each curious face.
“Is there a TV show going on? Get back to work.” My tone is bitter, and it works to get them to look away. They scramble to grab papers, drop their eyes to the screen, and cough even. All six of them on this floor.
I knock twice on the door in front of me.
Upon hearing the ‘come in’, I turn the handle, take a deep breath, and steel my spine, ready to face him again, ready to lose my breath while I suffocate in his presence.
“Came back so soon?” He lifts his gaze from the papers in front of him, and I just want to hit him across the face for having that smile on his face. It’s not one of sincerity but of mocking, one to tell me he knows I’m playing right into his hands.
I stand there.
Unmoving. Waiting. Contemplating.
I need to do this. For me. To survive.
Gritting my teeth and holding in my fight, I open my mouth to accept a small defeat. Just a small one.
“I accept.” My voice turns hard.
Helia’s dark eyebrows fly up. “That easily?”
I don’t reply, nor do I move when I see a flash of amusement go across his face.
This fucker finds this funny.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate you or despise the fact that you snatched my company right out of my hand.” A glare is set on my face, and I hope he sees the burning hate I have for him.
“And you want what? A job? How does a clerical position sound? Receptionist?”
My blood boils inside of me at his suggestion.
I have never worked a job at reception. The idea of having to keep a smile on my face to greet people who will test my patience every single day as I sit through hours of it sounds like torture.
“No. I have conditions of my own.”
Helia drops his pen and leans back. The suit jacket he discarded hangs on the back of his chair, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the thick tendons in his forearms and hinting at the muscles beneath the cotton fabric of his shirt. He rests his elbows on the table in front of him, sitting like he owns the place.
And he kind of fucking does.
Like a damn cheat.
“You think you are in a place to be negotiating?”
The grip on my bag tightens.
“Go ahead. I would like to hear it, nonetheless.” He motions with a hand as if he is doing me a favour.
“I will keep my previous post and—”
“Not possible.”
“—my responsibilities will remain the same.”
“Also not possible.”
“I will stay out of your way and you will stay out of mine—”
“That’s also kind of not—”
“Would you let me finish?!”
Helia’s eyes narrow, then he stands up and rounds the table. He stalks forward and stops right in front of me.
His hand darts out, then his fierce, brutal grip on my chin jerks my face up. I sneer at him, and his glare is just as dirty and disgusted. A shiver skitters through me at his harshness. I desperately want to sling my bag across his face, but the moment my eyes drop to his lips, my mind takes a different route altogether.
“Me letting you walk into this building is already a stretch. If I didn’t need you, you wouldn’t be standing in front of me speaking like this. Drop the attitude before I take care of it myself, and I assure you, Ms Torre, you will not like the reality of your tears staining your cheeks as you beg at my feet.”
My eyes widen at his very clear threat and the truth behind those words. My eyes flit between his emerald eyes, catching on the dark shadow that falls over his face due to his jet-black hair.
“You will be my secretary, starting right fucking now. You will do as asked, like a good girl, and you will do so with no complaints. I may be a little laid back, but I promise you, the minute you decide to disobey me, the minute you decide to cross a line with me, I will destroy you.” He lets go of my chin with a harsh jerk, making me stumble back a step.
I am breathing heavily, hands fisted around my bag while I try to regulate my breathing.
He has been stomping all over me again and again ever since we met.
“If you need me, then this mouth and attitude will remain. Deal with it, sir, because I don’t drop to my knees for any man, let alone you.”
With those parting words, I head out, slamming the door behind me.
He’s so frustrating.
I hate him so much I want to wrap my hands around his throat, choke the life out of him, and watch his soul leave his green eyes.
My eyes catch the vacant spot right opposite his office, the small room that was for my father’s secretary. It’s empty.
He knew.
He knew, and he wanted me to come back to him and beg like a fucking dog. To fall for his commands like a ‘good girl’, as he put it.
I will show him exactly who he is declaring war with.