Chapter 32

Thirty-Two

Dagen

The call comes from Otto.

“Get to Goliath. Now,” he says, no hello, no other information. He hangs up immediately after.

John is already there outside Goliath, so I call him right away, telling him to get Ava out of the building.

Otto wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t important.

By the time I get there, she’s already in the backseat of the black car.

I park my car on the curb and hop out, tossing the keys to the valet as I climb into the backseat of the waiting car instead.

Ava is in the backseat, her eyes wide and wet, her focus on the window in front of her. Her eyes are glazed, like she doesn’t see anything in front of her. Her cheeks are streaked with tears.

“Ava?” I murmur, reaching to touch her gently.

She flinches and blinks, looking away from the window. When she realizes it’s just me, she hands me her phone. “He showed up at my job,” she croaks. “Sent me that.”

I’m so focused on her, it takes me a minute to look down at the phone in my hand. When I do, it’s to find a high-resolution picture of Ava naked.

“That bastard. You’re not even awake in this,” I hiss, my brows furrowing in anger.

“That’s because he took it after he nearly strangled me to death,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know that because I can see the marks on my neck in the picture.” She looks away. “He only did that one time,” she adds, as if that fucking matters.

I delete the photo, so she doesn’t have to see it anymore. “Otto will take care of it.”

“What if he releases it?” she asks. “What if he already has?”

“It’ll never make it to the internet,” I reassure her. “His computer and phone are being monitored by Otto, curtesy of Waylan bugging them. He’ll make sure it’ll never happen, whether he tries or not.”

She meets my eyes and the pain reflected there tightens my chest. “Are you sure?”

“I promise,” I reassure her.

Her shoulders slump in relief. “Thank you, Dagen.”

The appreciation in her voice makes me want to drag her into my arms. I want to comfort her. Why am I not comforting her?

“We knew he’d play dirty,” I say, tugging her against me for a hug finally. “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll attend the gala this weekend and he’ll regret ever threatening you.”

“My boss said I could lose my job if it happens again. Not in so many words, but it was implied,” she murmurs. “I like my job.”

“Even if he has to let you go, you’ll always have a job with Fox Industries if you want it,” I reassure her. “There’s no need to worry, Ava.”

Her eyes water again. “You’re doing too much for me. You don’t have to.”

I stroke her cheek. “I’m just protecting my investment,” I say, but the words lack the bite they usually do.

I’m no longer talking about my money investment, or what she can bring me business-wise.

I’ve started to invest my feelings into this, and I won’t waste them.

Nobody makes Dagen Fox care and gets out of alive.

Just ask my dead mother.

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