Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
LUCILLE
When I open my computer, I find my email app and click on it. Then I find the email from the background search and click on that. I put in my password and wait for the information to appear. It doesn’t take long, thankfully, because I am seriously on edge.
Asher Grant.
One divorce.
One daughter.
One nightclub… and ties to some men’s names that look seriously shady as hell. I don’t know who they are, but just their names make me think they are up to no good.
Not any good at all.
I write their names down, although if they’re tied to Asher, I’m assuming I won’t be able to find anything on them without paying for it, either, which makes me think they are into some gnarly shit.
But Emmie is his daughter. Right there, in black and white. Interesting. I’m thinking this could mean more than it should. I don’t know why, but it feels very intense. Standing from the computer, I walk to my kitchen and pour myself a glass of red wine.
I need something to deal with whatever this is. I need something to relax me so I can figure it out. Emmie and Asher are a puzzle, and I need to know how they fit together. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I take it out.
A notification for my fake social media page. I smile as I slide my thumb across the screen and look at the comment. It’s a reply—a reply to the comment that I made on Emmie’s picture of her hair.
So cute! Queen!!
She loves the comment, and her reply is below.
Thanks!!! My man LOVVVVVED it!
With a snort, I glance at the time. It’s only been thirty minutes since I left her place, and she was on her knees. He was fully clothed and hadn’t even touched her yet. I can’t imagine what they did in that short amount of time, but there is no way she had more than one orgasm.
What a shame because if I recall, and I do… every single detail, Theron usually gave more than two orgasms a night. We would have quick and intense sex, then we would slowly work ourselves back up again, and finally, we would clean up with one more for each of us. I understand that he’s older now, but I can’t imagine that man would ever lose his stamina.
Ever.
She’s not doing something right if he’s not staying with her for hours. Either he isn’t getting what he wants, or worse, he’s getting everything he wants, and he’s not overimpressed, which bodes the question of why he’s with her to begin with.
Loving her comment, I shove my phone back in my pocket and make my way back to the sofa with my glass of wine in hand. I stare at the computer screen, tilting my head to the side as I shake thoughts of Theron and orgasms out of my head and attempt to focus on the task at hand.
Ruining Emmie Grant.
Clicking on her name, I read the information provided. It’s the same shit that I could find for free, but then something catches my eye. I pause at her school history. She didn’t go to college. In fact, she didn’t even graduate high school. And if she did, there is no record of it.
So, how does one get a job at a prestigious shishi lala art gallery with zero education? I mean, maybe her father created a fake education for her. It wouldn’t be unheard of. But something irks me about that.
Then it hits me.
Who the fuck owns that art gallery?
Opening up a new tab, I begin to search. Originally, I thought it was odd that Nights had such a fancy gallery like that. Those kinds of places are usually in destination places. Not in Nights. We aren’t nothing, but at the same time, we are not a destination city by any means and not any kind of art hub.
The owner is Ron Vale.
I know that name. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I look at my notes. It doesn’t take me long to find the name. It’s one of the owners of the Willow Club along with Asher Grant. What the fuck is going on here?
My next mission is to find out how in the hell an art gallery owner becomes partners with a nightclub owner. Not that it’s impossible, but I’m finding it hard to believe in general. Rolling my lips a few times, I click around on the Internet and try to find some more information about this Ron character.
There isn’t much. He went to some small fancy art college and graduated before opening the gallery. Which makes me think that he comes from money. I don’t know how to figure that part out, but I do what I can. This means that I pay the small amount to do a complete search on him, too.
And for shits and giggles, I do one for the third partner, Callan Drake. I also add the names that Asher is tied to in his profile because those names, they just make me feel some kind of way, and I think there is something much bigger happening here.
I figure if I look them all up, then something is bound to stick out, and I’ll be able to find out exactly what this bitch is doing and what her plans are for this man of mine… because he is mine. He just doesn’t realize it yet.
I’m not going to rest until I know what it is. And hopefully, I can threaten to expose Emmie to Theron and make her walk the fuck away from him.
THERON
Merrick texts me just as I’m about to take my clothes off. I’ve already come down Emmie’s throat, but I don’t want to leave without taking care of her. I’m an asshole, but I’m not that big of an asshole.
Digging my phone out of my pocket, I slide my thumb across the text notification to open the message. It doesn’t say much, but that doesn’t surprise me because we don’t typically put much in writing.
Also, it’s a group text. Which means it’s big.
MERRICK: SURVEILLANCE ROOM. IMMEDIATELY.
Fuck.
This is big.
Tucking my shirt back into the waistband of my pants, I flick my gaze over to Emmie, who is naked with her legs spread wide in the center of the bed. It’s a shame to leave her this way, but work calls, and if this is about Ravet, which I assume it is, then nothing else trumps that.
“Wish I could stay, but I have an emergency. I need to head out.”
Emmie’s eyes widen, her lips part, and she lets out a long exhale before she speaks. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I’m not. I’ll come back to you later. But I have shit I need to handle.”
She pouts and rises to her knees, then holds out her hand. I don’t take it, tilting my head to the side. I watch her for a moment, then clear my throat. I open my mouth to say something, but she starts speaking first.
“You have me to handle, Theron. Don’t walk out that door.”
Her words seem to be some kind of warning, but I don’t give a fuck about it. Merrick and whatever he has to say are the most important things right now.
Taking a step backward, I don’t say anything else to her. I don’t give a fuck. She could warn me all day long, but I am not going to ignore Merrick for some cunt I’m just fucking to pass the time.
“I’ll text you when I can.”
Turning around, I walk out of the bedroom just in time to hear her scream and something smash against the wall. I don’t know what the fuck she threw, but this shit is not going to fly with me.
If I had the time, I would tell her how much that shit will not fly. But I don’t. So I walk out of her apartment, leaving her naked and pissed off. I’m sure a good pounding is all she needs to calm her ass down. I’ll worry about it later. I don’t care right now.
The only important thing to me in the world at this moment is Merrick and what he has to say. Because I know that he heard something and what he heard could change our entire world.
It doesn’t take me long to drive to the office. Hurrying into the building, I still do all the things I need to in order to ensure security is properly in place. When you don’t do that, when you’re in a hurry, that’s when you fuck up. That’s when you make mistakes. I learned that lesson a long fucking time ago.
When I walk into the surveillance room, I’m surprised to see that I’m not the first one in. Vaughn is standing next to Merrick as I close the door behind me. “What do we have?” I demand.
Merrick holds his hand up. I’m surprised to see that he has headphones on and he’s furiously scribbling in the notebook I brought the other night. The door opens again, Hale making his way in, and one by one, the rest of the men arrive.
We are all staring at Merrick, waiting for him to finish writing on the paper. Then he sets his pen down and turns to face us, slowly slipping the headphones off and leaving them around his neck.
“Ravet’s name was mentioned more than once. He wasn’t there, but they know him. He associates with them.”
“How?” I demand. “Who is they?”
“It took me a little digging, but does the name Asher Grant mean anything to you?” he asks, his gaze flicking to mine and holding it.
Shaking my head slowly, I stare at him with confusion clearly etched on my face. “Should I know that name?” I finally ask when he doesn’t continue.
His lips twitch into a smirk. “Asher Grant is the father of the woman you’re fucking, Theron.”
My heart stops beating for a moment, then begins again. I don’t know what to say, what to do. I’m not quite sure what any of this means. But I am hoping that Merrick is going to inform me because right now, I’m thinking that Emmie isn’t just a pain in my ass. She’s doing something that cannot be ignored, forgiven, or let go. And I make it a point not to physically hurt women as a general rule, so this will be difficult.