Chapter 10
Maeve
At five minutes to seven, while I’m crunching numbers on my computer, finalizing invoices, and winding down the business of the day, my office door swings open.
I’m torn between amusement and annoyance. “You know, it’s considered polite to knock before you enter someone’s—” As soon as I glance up, the words die in my throat.
Kellin’s not in my office.
John—Shout, as most people call him—closes my door and reclines against the wood, arms folded across his chest. He tilts his head, an unsettling half grin inching across his face.
“Daddy sent me to check in and see if you need help finding adequate service for the repairs.”
Of course he did. Because when Declan Gallagher snaps his fingers, he expects immediate gratification. “Not yet, but please inform my father that I will let him know if I require any assistance. Feel free to let yourself out.”
He fails to take the hint. “You’re not still working at this hour, are you?” Combined with his leer, the slow, oily drawl sends a shudder down my spine. “Don’t wanna overwork yourself, sweetheart.”
I’m starting to think my father has nothing to do with this man’s presence, but at the end of the day, the why doesn’t matter. He’s here, invading my space, and I need him out.
I sit up straighter, wrangling my features into a mask of cool indifference. “I’m too busy for chitchat. If my father has feedback to share, he can reach out to me himself. You can go.”
He pulls away from the door and draws closer. The scent of cigarette smoke and cheap aftershave reaches me, and I wrinkle my nose, resisting the urge to wave my hand in front of my face.
“I was real happy to hear we’d be staying a while.” Shout’s eyes roam my figure, and my skin crawls from his inspection.
I jump to my feet and slap my palms on the top of my desk. “I think you should leave, John.”
His grin widens, and he continues his pursuit. “We can finally get to know each other, since we’ll share such close quarters. From what I can tell, you ain’t been entertaining no one lately. You must be…missing the affection.”
Raw lust swirls in his eyes, along with a sinister darkness. He practically reeks of violence.
I push steel into my voice. “John.” Maybe the idiot forgot his real name. “Shout. I have a meeting. You should leave—”
“I bet a man hasn’t taken care of you properly in ages.” Mock sympathy drips from his lips. “You act like you’re in charge here, but a woman like you just needs a man who knows how to handle her. Put her in her place. And your place?” His gaze drops to my chest. “It’s beneath a man like me.”
Disgust crawls across my neck as I replay his words in my mind. For several seconds, I’m too stunned to reply.
Shout’s always given me the creeps. Whenever he’s around, he observes me with almost rabid fascination, like he’s picturing me naked…
or maybe bleeding out from a mortal neck wound.
He’s never actually done anything, not in my presence, but several of my female employees complained about his unwanted attention, stray comments, and wandering eyes.
Not enough for me to insist my father get rid of him or trespass him from the property.
Hell, I’m not sure my father would ditch the guy even if he attacked someone, so I can only imagine Dad’s disdain over some alleged “PC bullshit.”
A deep, primal part of my brain understands that Shout poses a real threat to me right now.
Nausea roils in my belly and slides up my throat. My hands twitch, nails digging into the wood of the desk. “Get. Out.”
Shout lurches closer, within arms’ reach. I fumble for the pepper spray in my pocket that I carry in case of emergencies.
My heart sinks. Along with my phone, the little weapon is in my blazer pocket, hanging by the door. On the other side of Shout.
His eyes narrow like he’s stalking a skittish animal and ready to pounce at any moment.
“You act untouchable. Boss’s daughter and all that.
Always in control. But I can see you’re starving for some action.
A little sexual satisfaction will probably stop you from being so uptight. I can help with that.”
His words slither into my bones.
My pulse thunders in my ears.
I want to retreat. Step away. Run.
But I won’t.
I refuse to show this man fear.
Narrowing my eyes, I force every bit of vitriol I possess into my command. “Get. The fuck. Out.”
He chuckles as he closes the distance between us. His breath reeks of garlic and booze. “I can help you remember what it feels like.” He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it over my desk. “How to let go. How to beg for more.”
Did this asshole not hear me?
“If you leave right now, I’ll consider not calling the police.” My voice wavers on the last word. “And if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get to keep your job.”
His widening grin reveals crooked, tobacco-stained teeth. “You think you can order me around? Sweetheart, you might sign the checks, but we both know whose name is on the deed. And we both know you can’t call the cops either.”
“My father—”
“Doesn’t give a shit about you. He might even congratulate me…especially if I take the edge off your sharp tongue.”
I want to argue, but I can’t. Declan might get pissed if he perceives an assault on me as a slight on him. However, he might also react exactly the way Shout laid out.
I start again. “My brothers—”
“Are too up your father’s ass to challenge him. Besides, it’s not like they’re breaking down your door to hang out with you.”
While I no longer expect anything from my father, I still cling to hope for my brothers, so the truth in that last comment stabs me in the chest. But now isn’t the time to fret over estranged siblings.
The walls press in, and a band tightens around my chest.
Declan’s thick, cold shadow stretches between us.
Shout’s still talking, but my brain no longer registers his words. My mind tunnels to survival. I calculate distance, angles, exits.
The window.
A paperweight.
My pepper spray, if I can cross the room fast enough.
Claustrophobia crunches down on me. The air is too warm, too heavy. Breathing becomes a monumental effort.
Shout’s hand clamps on my wrist.
I shove him back, nearly tripping over my desk chair as I stumble.
He snarls before reaching for me again. “Come here, you frigid bitch.”
I aim for his throat, but he twists at the last second, deflecting the worst of my punch. In response, I scramble away. “Don’t touch me.”
“You fucking cunt. You’ll pay for that.”
My body tenses, every muscle screaming to fight, to run. This bastard isn’t going to—
“Am I late?”
Kellin’s voice bullets through the room.
Shout recoils, his shoulders jerking. A scowl darkens his face.
Sweet relief floods me. I could kiss Kellin right now.
He strolls into the office, a large leather satchel slung over his shoulder. His expression is mild, that ever-present charm in his smile, but his eyes are flat as a reptile’s.
Murderous, even.
The air shifts in an instant. Charged particles skate over my skin, raising the hair on my arms.
My heart hammers against my ribs.
I shudder to imagine the outcome if Kellin hadn’t arrived when he did.
He stalks toward Shout like an avenging angel, his calm demeanor warring with the ire blazing in his eyes. Each stride is precise. Predatory. “Didn’t realize we had company.”
Shout puffs himself up and faces Kellin. “We’re having a private conversation here.”
Kellin raises a brow, the smile on his face dropping. “From what I heard, Ms. Gallagher wasn’t interested in conversing with you. I suggest you leave.” His tone is almost polite.
Almost.
In the way that a sleeping viper is almost harmless.
Shout sneers. “Mind your business, pretty boy.”
“Oh, I am.” The smile, sharp and not at all pleasant, returns. “Ms. Gallagher and I have a business meeting scheduled.”
The tension thickens. I can hear the hum of the lamp, the faint tick of the wall clock, the rush of blood in my ears.
I flick my attention between Kellin and Shout, struggling to process their silent exchange.
Shout’s eyes dart to me, then back at Kellin, as he weighs his odds. With a defeated hiss, he decides they aren’t in his favor. “Okay.” After throwing me one last slimy sneer, he grabs his jacket. “I’ll leave. For now.”
He exits with a scoff while grumbling curses under his breath.
The strain leeches from my shoulders, leaving me drained.
I never imagined Shout would try anything. Leer at me? Sure.
But to actually touch Declan Gallagher’s daughter? Threaten me?
Either he possesses no sense of self preservation, or he realizes that Declan and my brothers don’t give a shit about what happens to me.
I push the sting of that thought away, burying the pain with the other things I’d rather forget.
Kellin’s quiet, his jaw set. The vein at his temple continues to throb. My own pulse still beats like a drum, in sync with his.
The chill I noticed in him this morning—that marbled, businesslike detachment—has melted away.
He spins toward me, his gaze traveling over me in a slow, deliberate way.
Nothing like Shout’s greedy lust.
I find desire, yes. But also more than that.
Protectiveness? Jealousy? Possession?
I could be wrong, but…every cell in my body yearns to be right.
“You okay?” A raw quality roughens Kellin’s voice.
I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. My tongue is frozen, my mouth full of cotton.
I settle for a nod instead, planting my trembling hands on the desk to still them.
Did I imagine the ice in his gaze earlier? His aloofness in the elevator this morning?
Because at this particular moment, the man might be radiating enough heat to incinerate me.