Chapter 48 Scarlett
SCARLETT
Operation Trap Marcus into a Confession was in full swing.
My cell phone was carefully hidden on the desk, its camera lens facing outward, recording already initiated.
Even if he moved out of the video frame, all I needed was one shot of him, and the rest could be audio.
I’d sent him an “urgent” message. Bait that his ego didn’t let him ignore this time.
Meanwhile, I positioned myself on the opposite side of the room, deliberately distant from my phone, arranging items on my bookshelf with calculated nonchalance. The perfect cover. When he arrived, when he sat down in one of the chairs beyond my desk, he shouldn’t suspect a thing.
Once I had this proof, I’d make a copy at home, stored somewhere impenetrable.
Then I’d finally face Jace. I’d been ghosting him all day, declining every call, ignoring every text, but with evidence in hand, there’d be no disputing Marcus’s true nature.
Together, Jace and I could determine our next move: HR?
Legal action? Whatever it took, I’d ensure Marcus couldn’t hurt Jace.
And then … then maybe I could untangle these messy feelings for Jace that kept my mind racing. Tessa was right; I was feeling wildly protective of him. If not for that, I might not risk everything on this sting operation.
A shadow darkened my doorway. Marcus stepped inside, his demeanor suggesting that being summoned to my office registered somewhere between a mild curiosity and an inconvenience.
“Close the door,” I said, my voice steadier than the thundering pulse in my throat.
Marcus regarded me for a long moment, his eyes calculating as they swept over me.
He obliged, pushing the door shut with a soft click before sliding his hands into his pockets, assessing me as if I was a curiosity in a museum display.
For a fleeting second, I could’ve sworn there was a flicker in his eyes—a momentary consideration that perhaps I’d reconsidered my stance on his “promotion offer.” That I was about to do whatever it took to secure it.
Fat. Chance.
“Calling me to your office after-hours?” Marcus clicked his tongue, eyebrows raised. “That won’t look very good to HR, you know. Innocent people don’t invite supposed perpetrators into their offices when the building’s practically empty.”
Yep. That’s why there’s a recording device on my desk, you handsy harasser.
I folded my arms across my chest, widening my stance to project confidence I didn’t entirely feel.
“I called you down here because I want assurances.”
“Assurances,” he repeated, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he rubbed the side of his face. “What kind of assurances?”
“You gave me an ultimatum. I want to negotiate the terms.”
His expression hardened. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Panic fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird.
I glanced at the closed door, realizing he might not feel secure enough to incriminate himself.
My eyes darted to the window separating my office from the hallway, where anyone could walk by.
I crossed the room and closed the blinds with a quick snap.
“There.” I turned back to him. “No one can see us now. So, drop the bullshit. I want to negotiate.”
Marcus checked his watch with exaggerated impatience. “If you could get to the point, I have dinner reservations.”
I wanted to recite every vile thing he’d said, to box him into a corner where all he’d have to do was utter one damning word. But this snake was too slippery. I needed to play it slower, more strategically.
“If I keep my mouth shut about what you did,” I started, voice deliberately vulnerable, fingers twisting together, “I want you to promise you’ll never hurt Jace like you threatened to.”
Marcus sighed, fingers already wrapping around the doorknob. “Miss West, I don’t have time for immature theatrics.”
“I care about him,” I blurted out.
The words froze Marcus mid-turn, his body tensing in a way that sent warning bells clanging through my mind. Something shifted in his posture. Something predatory.
“I like him. A lot,” I continued, sensing I’d struck something important. “And I don’t want him to get hurt. So, I need guarantees that you won’t do anything to harm him.”
He pivoted slowly, a victorious and creepy-ass smirk spreading across his face. “You care more about him than your promotion?”
The realization hit me with startling clarity. “Yes. I do.”
The smug look of triumph that transformed his features sent ice cascading down my spine. Why did it feel like in this chess game, I’d just sacrificed my queen?
“That’s good to know, Miss West,” he purred, the words dripping with menace.
“I want assurances that you’re not going to hurt him,” I repeated more forcefully.
“Why would I hurt one of my closest friends?” His face was the picture of innocence.
Damn it. I was getting nowhere. Not yet. But I could see his mind racing, that my confession about Jace had taken him off guard, so maybe, just maybe, he’d slip up. Especially if I managed to rattle him even more.
“Because you’re a predator. And I don’t trust your word, so like I said, I need assurances, or I’m not going along with your plan.”
He turned and closed the distance between us in three measured steps. It took every ounce of willpower not to retreat, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower.
“You seem to be under the impression you have leverage,” he sneered.
“And you seem to be under the impression you’re holding all the cards,” I countered. “But you’re not.”
“Your future promotional opportunities could go up in flames like that.” The sharp snap of his fingers made me flinch. “Your entire career could implode faster than that.” Another deliberate step forward. “I hold all the cards, Miss West, and you’d better damn well get used to it.”
I’d hit a nerve. Power was his currency, his addiction. Maybe that explained his grudge against Jace.
“It must be hard,” I said, the words poised like a dagger, “to play second fiddle to another man. Jace has more power in his pinkie finger than you’ll ever have in your entire lifetime.”
The transformation was instantaneous, darkness flooding his eyes like spilled ink. Warning bells weren’t just ringing; they were screaming, Run! Run! Run!
He advanced, and this time, I did back away.
“He thinks he holds all the power,” Marcus snarled, “because I let him think he holds all the power. But he doesn’t hold anything.
” His voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
“I’m the one with all the power. I’m the one keeping his secret.
With one phone call, I could orchestrate his collapse.
He would lose it all—his money, his freedom, everything.
And you?” He jabbed a finger toward my chest, taking another step closer while I stepped back.
“You think you’re any kind of match for me?
You have no idea who you’re messing with. ”
“I’m messing with someone who sexually harasses women,” I shot back, “then stalks them and shows up at their apartments to threaten and intimidate them. You think they’ll go along with whatever you say just because you’re, what, flexing your alpha-male bullshit?”
His nostrils flared. “You will do as you’re told, Miss West, or you will lose everything. And now that I know you care about Jace this much?” His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “That’s a handy piece of intelligence to have.”
I swallowed hard. I might not have a full confession, but I had enough to show Jace who Marcus really was.
“Get out,” I said coldly.
My cell phone rang.
God help me, the sound drew Marcus’s attention directly to it.
I lunged toward the desk, but he was faster.
Maybe he grabbed the phone to prevent me from answering it and telling whoever it was that he was currently in my office, threatening me.
Or maybe he noticed how it had been propped up slightly, but either way, he got to it first, and when he swiped to decline the call, his eyes locked on the screen.
He froze. His dark gaze snapped from my phone to me, realization dawning. He saw that I’d been recording him. His jaw tightened to granite as his fingers jabbed at the screen, deleting the evidence I’d gathered.
“You think you’re a crafty little bitch, don’t you?” he growled.
With a vicious flick of his wrist, he hurled my phone across the room. It crashed against the wall and clattered to the floor, the impact making me flinch. Before I could react, his hand shot out, fingers clamping around my throat. I instinctively grabbed his wrist, trying to pry it away.
“You just made a big fucking mistake.” His grip tightened.
I drove my knee upward into his groin. “So did you,” I choked out.
His hold loosened with a pained grunt, but when I tried to dart past him, his fingers tangled in my hair, yanking me backward with such force that stars exploded behind my eyes.
Time slowed to a nightmarish crawl. I recognized that look on his face. That same unfathomable rage that had transformed my father’s features into something inhuman decades ago. Pure malevolence stared back at me, a desire to hurt, to punish, to dominate radiating from every pore.
Marcus clearly saw himself as untouchable, and I had nearly toppled his house of cards. Had the phone call not interrupted, he would have been destroyed.
With a guttural sound, he slammed me against the bookshelf.
Volumes rained down around us as his expensive leather shoe drove into my rib cage, sending me sprawling to the floor.
Any hope that someone outside my office would hear that crash and come running in passed.
Confirming I’d waited too late in the day to make this happen.
I should have done it earlier. At a safer time, when the office was filled with potential witnesses.
Instantly, my mind fractured, past and present colliding in a kaleidoscope of terror.
“No, Daddy! Stop!” I squealed, clutching my teddy bear against my chest like a shield.
Marcus advanced toward me, that familiar evil twisting his features. I scrambled onto all fours, heart thundering against my ribs, trying to crawl away.
“Daddy, stop hitting Mommy!”
“You bitch.” Marcus’s fingers closed around my ankle like a vise.
I thrashed wildly, breaking free.
“I hate you, Daddy!”
Daddy stopped beating Mommy, who was lying on the ground, too still. His eyes flashed to me, darker than I’d ever seen as he redirected his attention. To me. He stomped closer, and I ran screaming.
I was a terrible daughter because in that moment, I regretted shouting at him to stop hurting Mommy. I don’t want to be hit. Last time, I thought I was going to die and—
“Ow!” My head jerked backward violently.
Marcus fisted my hair, wrenching me toward him. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
Daddy flipped me onto my back. I kicked my little Mary Janes against his chest, but his fist came up, and I knew, even in my nine-year-old mind, that this was it.
Mommy and I would never make it to the ocean, never feel warm waves lapping against our ankles while sunshine warmed our finally-free-from-Daddy smiles.
We’d never escape. His fist slammed into my temple, and everything went dark.
“No!” I cried, scrambling beneath my desk, making myself as small as possible, the way I always did when I hid under my childhood bed.
What had I been thinking? Marcus had proven he was dangerous when he’d stalked me to my home and threatened me, so why the hell did I think I could control this? It was naive and reckless, and I’d let my desire to protect Jace cloud my better judgment.
As Marcus’s polished shoes stepped closer, I retreated further under the desk. He reached for me, but I kicked wildly at his grasping hands.
“You tell anyone about this,” he hissed, backing away slowly, “you’re dead.”
His footsteps receded. The door squeaked open with a groan, and then there was silence, the only sound my broken, ragged sobs.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, shivering, crying, trying to reclaim the adult Scarlett I’d painstakingly built from bruises and scars and determination. My ribs throbbed with each shallow breath, and my scalp burned where he’d pulled my hair.
Then a sound. Footsteps in the hallway, growing louder. Closer to my office.
My entire body went rigid with terror. The pattern of those footfalls was familiar.
Marcus had returned.
To finish what he started.