Chapter Twenty-One Tyler #3
As his eyes lift from a thorough sweep of my profile and our gazes collide, I see it instantly—soulless detachment.
Within a second, I know I’m facing off with a man who has everything, but decidedly nothing to lose.
His net worth began with old money in the billions, and his additional contribution places him in the top one percent of the one percent.
His connections would have most blue bloods frothing at the mouth for any seat near his table.
It’s no surprise he’s here or has armed guards because there’s no real dirt on him.
His position alone warrants no theatrical title.
A PR firm’s wet dream, along with his list of accolades, there’s no smudge of dirt underneath his manicured fingernails.
To everyone else, he is the embodiment of the American dream to buy into.
To me, his evil is overly pungent from feet away—not entitlement but pure disdain.
It’s everywhere in his casual stance and elitist air, steeped in violence that, right now, is directed at me.
Instead of engaging him, I wait for a hint of what it could be.
But it takes a wise, silent man to know one, and with him, he’s only going to tell me what he’s chosen to.
Not a word more. So the question I have to answer about Antony Livingston is how big a stick I’m going to need …
and how far he has gotten already. Larissa’s warning about him being slippery remains at the forefront as I weigh him while he continues measuring me.
Though concealed, his heavy security crowds the doorways, ready to strike, as if I’m the stray dog pissing on their turf.
It strikes me then exactly how I’ve earned his contempt, and why he’s here, a second before he voices it.
“She’s rather distracting, isn’t she?”
And there it is. The girl, because at the end of the day, it’s always about the girl, no matter the breed of man. It’s here where our IQs differ substantially.
“She?” I cock my head.
“Pointless,” he counters. “Utterly pointless, but I’ll go with you playing ignorant if that’s what you wish to play.”
“You’ll find I give better than I get. On that note, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me, sir.”
“Don’t do that.” He lifts a hand, and his guards take a lone step into the room.
Fury lights my veins as I realize the degree to which we fucked up.
No armed man has entered this house without permission in over a century.
This slip is on me, my continued absence from my true station.
In that moment, I decide to ramp up Ciro’s takedown.
I don’t do sloppy, but Larissa’s costing me precision.
“What do you want?” I snap outright.
“Please, take no offense, this is just a welfare check,” he relays casually as he scans the portrait. “As you might know by now, she’s got big dreams.”
“Seems you do as well. Though, if I may give you a little advice?”
He bows his head slightly, amusement tilting his lips.
“Don’t obsess over cut and clarity. That ring won’t fit the way you want it to.”
“Interesting. Though I’m a big fan of challenge.”
“Just not a fan of consent altogether.” A statement.
“Nothing we can’t overcome,” he drawls suggestively as I slide my hands into my own slacks in response. At this, his smile only grows.
“She really does make an impression, doesn’t she? She was such an innocent when I met her, and had a much bigger vision for her future. A stargazer. In fact”—he gestures toward the painting—“she was an exquisite embodiment of it the day I met her.”
“Which I’m sure is the same day you started becoming a collector of things that don’t belong to you.”
“Now, now, I’m no real threat in comparison to the brutes she’s currently up against, am I?”
“You’re only hurting my feelings by calling yourself a gentleman.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” he emphasizes, and this blow too lands, though I keep every triggered tick concealed.
There’s no way this bastard could know something so personal.
That faith has been a burden to me since the second my wife cursed me with it.
Done with his theatrics and ready to get him behind a closed door, I spit my question outright.
“What’s your endgame, Livingston?”
“Now, where is the fun in relaying that?”
“Do you really need me to ask again?”
He slowly, so slowly rolls his aqua gaze over to me, threat everywhere in his expression, even as his posture and features remain utterly relaxed.
“I’m a businessman, so naturally, I want a return on my investment.
Do me a favor and try not to mess that up for me too much, and in return, I can be an incredible ally. ”
“I’ll pass on owing favors, not a big fan. Your investment’s safe, solely yours. This loan is very short-term.”
“Good to hear. Then again”—his eyes bolt to mine—“there’s something about you, too, isn’t there?”
“I’m flattered, really, but it’s time I see about my own business, and on that front, I don’t recall seeing you or your plus ones on the guest list.”
“I have a way of getting last-minute invites.”
“Do you mind explaining that to a few of my friends?” I nod to one of mine on detail lead.
Antony doesn’t spare him a glance, faking annoyance before sharply dipping his chin, eyes lighting. “Why not? It’s been a while since I’ve been entertained.”
“Sorry for the imposition,” I deliver without an ounce of sentiment. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“It was good to see you,” he responds as he’s escorted away, signaling to his men to stand down as mine sidle up to them. Watching every step he takes, I cut up my earpiece. “Nest, don’t you dare let him—”
“We’re all over this,” Russell assures, hearing the hell coming in my tone, which I back up with my reply.
“Debrief in twenty minutes,” I command, knowing Russell is just as furious.
Because he’s better than this. We all are.
We have a track record of exactly zero fuck-ups, and this arrogant bastard just cost us our first. Nothing remotely close to this has ever happened since before the start of Preston’s first term.
In preparation for situations like this, we’ve accounted for every contingency.
The fact that Antony got in without being flagged in the first few seconds is alarming enough.
That he’s here with armed fucking security is another entirely.
Mind blown, and in a rage, I make a quick call to T before securing Preston away entirely from the safest house in the fucking country.
Exactly four minutes after I watch Larissa’s fiancé get escorted from my sight, he slips out of the White House the way he came in.
Eerily similar to the way his fiancée did the night we collided.
The conclusion is the same. Someone on the inside of the fucking White House aided in his easy escape.
As I stalk toward the situation room sixteen minutes later, enraged and armed with that knowledge, I know precisely which heads are going to roll.
Two of those heads on my own cherry-picked fucking team.
The reason being what it always has been. Money breeding greed.
Endless hours and a few drinks later, throat sore from shouting the path of my fury and making sure everyone has a sleepless night, I meet Julien at the border of the trees.
Sensing my mood, he approaches me with a shit-eating grin and newly knowledgeable eyes.
I brace myself for whatever he has to report, but he holds our silent stare-off for agonizing seconds to bait me.
Knowing I won’t take it, he finally speaks first.
“I can smell how well tonight went for you.”
I eye the lit tent behind him.
“You knew she would make it past me, Tyler. So I guess my question is, why?” He tilts his head as I close my eyes, and my patience thins. “She’s reading. Interesting literature you left her.”
“I’m trying to make the fight fair.”
“It’s already fair. You know she’s brilliant.”
“Out with it, what’s your take?” I ask, too exhausted for small talk.
“She’s got the personality to match the body,” he relays, “and she’s holding back, but not in the way you think she is.”
“And which way would that be?”
“I think you know, and if you don’t, it will be more fun for you to find out,” he goads.
“We don’t have time to play games,” I grit out.
“That’s all this ever is—was—and will ever be, but never forget we signed up for it.”
“As if I could. Can she be trusted?”
“Do you want to? Because that’s all trust is, a decision until someone proves you a fool for giving it.”
“And that’s why you refuse to trust anyone?”
“There has to be some trust in this game we play. Temporarily at least.”
“Stop speaking in fucking riddles. We have birds’ lives at stake.”
“We always have birds’ lives at stake. It’s a decision you have to make. I can only tell she wants your trust. That’s all. I can’t tell you one way or another what words of hers to believe. She didn’t reveal all to me, but enough to let me know that she no longer feels she should trust you.”
“So this was an utter waste of time.”
“You knew that already, and if I knew the game,” Julien taunts, “I would tell you how to play it. This one is between the two of you. I’m sorry, but that’s all I’ve got.
” When I nod, he gives me a loaded glance before setting off on a path between the trees, his voice trailing back to me.
“Oh, and you should know she’s ambidextrous. ”