Chapter 24
Warren Snyder examined his closet with a sharp eye before settling on the charcoal grey pinstripe suit. Coupling it with a white shirt, he draped both over a sleek clothes press and moved to the mirror in his bathroom.
The bruises had faded. At least on the outside. But his jaw clicked when he moved it the wrong way. Or he chewed anything tougher than a rare chateaubriand.
According to his doctor, the sound might never go away.
That unquestionable blow to his pride was surpassed only by Leia’s callous betrayal.
In the silent days that followed the unfortunate event at the charity ball, locked away in the lake house no one knew about except him, he’d been fully intent on plotting to get her back.
He’d deemed her worthy of one last attempt to salvage what she’d ruined.
Just as he’d deemed his pride salvageable. With the right restitution.
His fingers paused over his still painful jaw. Flexing it delicately from side to side, he took a deep breath.
The breathing techniques had also failed him in the past several days while he’d been mired in fury. He was glad to experience the return of calm.
Changing his mind had been hard, but he hadn’t come this far, removed the shackles of his unfortunate past, by being imprudent.
But that didn’t mean the fire of revenge had abated.
No, far from it…
Timing himself, he dressed in precisely seven and a half minutes and tugged on his sleeves in satisfaction. Clarity of mind had always been his sharpest weapon. The enforced sabbatical had enabled him to see the forest for the trees.
Timing was everything. And he was now wealthy enough to make biding his time a non-hardship. The best chess moves came with patience. And precision?—
His phone beeped with a message. He read it. He considered ignoring it. Then he gave in and dialed the number.
“Miss Maitland, how may I help you?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you for days. I kept getting out of office replies.”
“An appropriate response seeing that I was out of the office. Again, how may I help you?”
“Do you know that your little… Are you aware that Noah and Leia are practically living together?” she asked through gritted teeth.
Warren strolled out of his bedroom and entered the space he’d been using as a study. Pressing a button on his laptop, the screen flared to life. “For the sake of expediency, I’ll say yes and suggest you get to the point.”
“Don’t you care?”
“Your point, if you please.”
She laughed. “You must really enjoy leftovers from Noah King’s table. Or you would have done something about our situation by now.”
She wasn’t worth the effort of him informing her he was doing something about it.
“I don’t doubt that you and King deserve each other. After all, he’s a thug and you’re a hapless shrew. I’m not in the habit of revisiting failed ventures, Miss Maitland. But I suppose, if you insist on pursing your objectives…” He trailed off and waited.
“What?” she demanded after a minute.
He told her. And listened to her gloat. “This will be the last time we communicate. I strongly suggest you lose my number.”
He hung up, placed the phone on his desk and clicked through the various electronic files until he located the one he needed. The puppet had responded to its master’s command.
Flicking open the button of his single-breasted jacket, he sat at his desk, steepled his fingers, and watched the time.
The email pinged at the stroke of the hour.
He read it.
Warren smiled, his pride a touch placated.