Chapter Thirteen
Calmly, methodically, I push the door closed, taking great pleasure in the way Meg’s shoulders tense.
A mouse trapped in a lion’s den. Drumming my fingertips on the wood, I wait to see if she’ll whirl around and throw herself at the handle in a bid to get out.
I really wish she would. I live for the fight.
Instead, Meg sets her stance and glares at me, chin lifted and blue eyes blazing.
She’s infuriating like that, always withholding the rise I crave from her.
The study settles around us, all polished wood and undeserving wealth.
Moving closer as if I’ve got all the time and patience in the world, I loom over her until her head tips back.
“I don’t condone how they treated you,” I start carefully, feeling the tightening of my jaw, “but they were acting on my orders. We have a matter of business to discuss.” It’s not an apology, but it’s as close as she's going to get. I’ll have to be more specific with my commands next time.
Meg’s full lips purse, her expression typically unaffected by me.
“Then you should have texted like a normal person.”
“You would have ignored it.” I snort softly, and Meg shrugs.
“Probably.” Inhaling sharply, I inhale her tenacity.
This is why I keep running in circles with this damn woman.
Life keeps putting her in my path to test my tolerance, to confront me with the one person who won’t bend to my will.
Meg’s eyes roam my face, from the tic beating in my jaw to my eyes alight with irritation, then further upwards.
That’s when a tiny, disbelieving smile quirks the corner of her mouth. “Is that glitter in your hair?”
I finally snap, stepping in closer to force her against the desk.
My shadow smothers her, the space between us non-existent.
I wish I didn’t notice how her chest presses into mine, how the breath saws out of her parted lips.
Even so, my hand rises towards her throat, my fingers bordering her skin without actually touching her.
“Don’t test me, Meg. I can be your greatest ally, or your worst enemy.
It really is up to you how this plays out.
” The threat eases out of me as I curl my fingers into a fist and lower to my side.
The woman before me hasn’t flinched, her earlier vulnerability trapped deep within, but the pink twinge in her cheeks betrays her.
She isn’t completely unaffected by me. The air between us becomes charged, a stand-off of pride ensuing until Meg raises a single brow.
“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”
I hum thoughtfully, dragging my gaze over her face.
Two can play this game. Slowly bending, I grab Meg by the back of her thighs and lift her to sit on the desk.
She doesn’t stop me, despite the way her body tenses.
A mouse in a lion’s den indeed. Tilting her chin up with two fingers, I admire how her pulse jumps visibly at her throat. A smile curves across my face.
“Do you remember the last time you were here?”
Meg bristles. Her eyes harden, a flicker of emotion she tries to suppress seeping through.
The slightest crack in the armor. I drink in the flare of her nostrils, mentally high-fiving myself.
Despite everything that’s happened both tonight and in the past year, she’s still in there, still fueled by fire.
She’s the only adversary that isn’t too shit-scared to bite back. It’d be such a shame to lose that.
Shifting my fingers, I stroke a line along her jawline until my hand disappears into her hair. Around us, the atmosphere shifts, bringing with it a weight I wasn’t expecting.
“I’ve had questions since that night. Perhaps it’s time you owed me some answers.” Dragging back on her chestnut brown hair, Meg leans back with one hand on the desk. My body follows the line of hers, my thighs nestled between hers. Oh, I remember that night. I think of it more often than I should.
Just when I think she’ll make an excuse to leave or shove me away, Meg’s lashes drop and her nose meets my neck.
She breathes me in, my Paco Rabanne cologne drawing her in.
Between us, Meg’s free hand slithers down the front of my T-shirt, dragging over the ridges of my abdomen with her knuckles.
As her lips brush across my throat, over the bruise she left there, my breath hitches despite myself.
Heat flares, my body responding before my brain has a chance to intervene.
Gliding her hand over my waistband, Meg’s fingers stroke my growing erection. I don’t realize how hard I am until she grabs my shaft. A curse word leaks from my lips as I jolt, tightly coiled and leaning against her more for stability than intimidation now.
“Everest,” Meg murmurs against my skin. I swallow, using the hold on her hair to bring her back to me. She’s a vision now, blue eyes hooded and lips parted. She’s a breath away, her nose against mine as she blinks up at me. “I don’t owe you shit.”
Faster than I can react, the hand on my shaft lowers to cup my balls and tighten.
The movement is sudden and vicious, all softness stripped away as she twists and wrenches brutally.
Every trace of her seduction vanishes, and the sound that tears out of my throat isn’t anything I recognize as my own.
Pain detonates white and blinding, my knees buckling as I stagger back.
Meg clings onto my aching ballsack for a second longer than she needs, and just when I think she’s going to twist again, she releases me.
I gasp, reaching out for the sideboard before my legs fail me.
My stomach rolls, nausea bending me in half as the door slams hard enough to rattle the shelves.
I cling to the sideboard until my lungs remember how to work properly, then I hobble my way to my chair.
The echo of her leaving still lingers, the heat of her handprint only just lifting from the polished wood of my desk. I scrub a hand down my face as if I can wipe the last ten minutes from existence.
Yeah, I probably should have seen that coming. I cornered her, tried to seduce her, but if there’s one thing I know about Meg, she doesn’t make the same mistake twice. That ship has well and truly sailed, and now only humiliation and hatred remain.
Just as I’m starting to come down from the queasiness that consumed me, my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket.
I jolt at the sensation of it so close to my balls, as if a phantom hand gave them another hard tug.
Grabbing my phone, I accept the call without looking and press it hard against my ear.
“What?” I snap, my chest still stuttering as I try to force my lungs into a steady rhythm. There’s a moment's pause on the other end, then a voice edged with danger leaks into my ear.
“I’m going to give you one chance to improve your tone, son,” my father states. My entire body seizes up before I can catch it, a shudder rolling the length of my spine. I hate that, even after all these years, he still has this effect on me. Without waiting for an answer, he continues.
“I’ve just had a call with the board regarding your new role.
There will be a media campaign on Thursday, during which you, your co-captain, and the official team will be unveiled to the public.
Prepare a statement and dress appropriately for press photos.
I don’t want to see a drop of glitter in sight.
” My eyes fly wide, a stutter happening in my chest.
“How did you—”
“You already know my assistant has alerts set up for your name on social media. Did you really think I wouldn’t see it?” my father drawls with such condescension, my teeth grit. I’m not sure what ‘it’ is, but I lean forward to open my laptop and power it up as I stall him.
“Shouldn’t we have longer to train first, make sure the team dynamics are solid before we go public?” There’s a chuckle on the other end of the phone, although there’s no humor in it. The screen brightens and I type in my password with my phone wedged between my shoulder and ear.
“Do you underestimate your ability to select the correct players? Or is there a dynamic issue between you and Miss O’Connor?
” my father asks rhetorically. I snort internally.
If only he knew. My laptop hums softly on the desk, the home-screen appearing briefly before it goes black.
I frown, tapping the space bar and clicking the trackpad uselessly.
“I want this situation controlled, Everest,” my father commands. I jab the power button, lifting my laptop as if I’ll be able to see the issue underneath it. “If she makes a fool of us, it’ll be you paying the price. Do I make myself clear?”
“Uh huh,” I reply, setting my laptop back onto the desk and huffing. Again, there’s a beat of silence that implies I’ve fucked up before he’s said as much.
“Come again?”
“I mean, yes. Yes, sir.” Somehow, despite the familiar surge of resentment rising within, I manage to keep my voice level.
“I’ll make sure she stays in line.” In the beat that follows, I can imagine my father standing by his office window, glaring through his reflection at the pool beyond.
Ghosts of the past no doubt filter through his vision before he grunts and the whoosh of the curtain shut confirms my suspicions.
“Make sure you do.” He hangs up on me, not that I’m remotely interested in his intimidation tactics. Suddenly, my laptop blinks back to life, and I scoot my chair closer. However, it’s not my usual home screen that appears, but an image of some kind of game.
Ripped straight out of a high-fantasy fever dream, shadowed stonework and molten-gold light stare back at me.
A towering citadel rises against a violet sky, banners snapping in an unseen wind.
In the foreground, a character stands frozen mid-stance, wearing armor etched with runes.
Dark curls that are cropped short at the sides, cover the top of his head, strong blue eyes gazing out of tanned skin and a weird, animated smile on his face.
I watch with wide eyes, beyond confused until the character speaks.
You made the mistake of thinking you’re the only one who is watching over Meg.
I almost choke on my own breath. The voice is a real one, not robotic or animated, yet not one I recognize. The character lifts his muscled arm, he points two fingers towards his eyes and then jabs his index finger towards the screen. My eyebrows touch my hairline.
Remember that I am also watching you, Captain Sparkle.
After flipping me off and turning away, the knight’s cape billows as he strides down the stone path towards the citadel.
I merely watch, perplexed and hardly breathing until he disappears from sight and my usual home-screen flickers back to life.
I wait long enough to make sure the fantastical world isn’t coming back before reaching forward and slamming my laptop closed.
Around me, the room is silent, other than the low roaring in my ears, and the shadows that seem to press in closer. Tentatively, I lean back in the chair, skin prickling.
“What the fuck was that?” I mutter to myself, more dazed than scared. My fingers drum against the arm of my chair, a few sprinkles of glitter falling in front of my face.
Tracking the sparkles, a slow smile grows on my face.
So, it wasn’t Meg behind the glitter bomb after all, and now I’m thinking with a clear head, she isn’t petty enough to tamper with my calendar.
Hell, she isn’t even interested in me enough for stupid pranks, but apparently someone is.
Someone with far too much time on their hands.
Someone who’s willing to challenge me in her honor.
It seems this little co-captain arrangement is going to be a lot more interesting than I’d planned.