Chapter 10
Christian
Twenty minutes earlier…
“The painting arrived as requested, sir.” The voice on the other end brought a needed moment of efficiency.
“You ensured there was no damage and that it was taken into her home?”
“Yes, sir. Would you like me to send you the picture?”
I walked into my house, turning on the security system and immediately heading upstairs. “No, that won’t be necessary.”
I’d discover where she’d had it placed myself at a later date.
“Good enough, sir. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will.”
As soon as I entered the bedroom, I tossed my phone onto the dresser. The last couple of days had been arduous, including attempting to discover who was behind Southshore Limited.
I wasn’t used to being unsuccessful in anything involving business, which is turn kept me in a very nasty mood.
Enough so, I smashed my fist against the wall from anger.
Something else that wasn’t like me. The deep ache pulsing in my fist meant nothing.
Pain had never bothered me, something else taught at an early age.
After stripping off my jeans, I took several deep breaths.
The day had been a stark, much needed reminder of why I’d learned to crush my enemies.
It was late, even more so than my usual arrival time at the house.
After I’d fed the horses, twilight had already slipped into unsettling darkness preventing me from taking a ride. Doing so usually eliminated the demons threatening to strip me of any concept of humanity.
I’d settled on a hot shower instead, determined to wash away the filth of the back-to-back meetings.
I headed into the bathroom, placing my phone on the counter. I was expecting a call from Hong Kong at some point and would need to take it. Call it damage control. If word got out that I’d been hacked, another wave of sharks would swim close to shore.
With the water turned on, I glared at my reflection in the mirror, noticing the gray around my temples. Maybe I was getting too old for the games. The power play didn’t have the same effect as it once did.
The first rush of water felt like a hard reset.
The heat hit my shoulders next, a blunt, heavy weight that immediately forced tension out of my muscles.
I closed my eyes as the torrent streamed down my chest, splitting into rivulets over my ribs and flattening the hair on my stomach.
The water pooled briefly at my feet before swirling down the drain.
Every drop felt like a microscopic fist kneading away the day’s exhaustion. I stood there, paralyzed by the sheer comfort of it, letting the steam fill my lungs until the air itself felt thick and warm.
I tipped my head back, letting the stream hit my face dead on, blinking against the pressure as it channeled past my ears and down my throat.
It felt less like a shower and more like a purging.
Months of grime, sweat, and memory seemed to dissolve under the heat, tracing the lines of my collarbone before dripping off my fingertips.
I ran a hand through my soaked hair, slicking it back, feeling lighter with every gallon that hit the floor.
While a temporary feeling that I’d boost with a tall glass of scotch, at least I could breathe easier.
I should concentrate both my thoughts and efforts on handling the transaction in Paris, but my thoughts continually drifted to the woman.
I’d yet to drive her from my mind long enough to handle business as I typically would.
With an iron fist.
Penelope Michaels had made herself a permanent resident in my mind. Partially from the experience of a couple of weeks before. Partially because as I learned more about her, my dark cravings were flickering with more obsessive desires.
Even with the tension abating, the ache in my cock only increased. I grabbed the soap and mesh ball, scrubbing every inch of my body while the steam began to rise.
I rubbed the flat of my hand down my chest while tossing my head back. Even as I wrapped my fingers around my cock, my muscles began to tense again. For whatever reason, I wasn’t in the mood to masturbate.
That’s how much I craved driving my cock deep into her tight pussy. Without her here, the pleasure meant nothing.
Half laughing, I finished my shower, the urge disappearing.
I snapped off the water, standing with my hands on the wall and watching strings of water flowing into the drain.
Covington needed to experience a lesson they’d never forget.
I had no doubt in my mind they were behind the theft of intellectual property.
Before I crushed them like a bug, which I would do, it would be prudent to gather evidence.
My, how things had changed over the years.
Evidently, they’d taken a play from my ruthless book, not only trying to outbid Tempest, but badmouthing our product to the current owner of the grand hotel.
Two could play at that game.
I yanked a towel from the rack, cursing under my breath as I stepped onto the bathmat. Maybe the problem was I hadn’t played my usual hardball with Covington. I’d waited, some might say resting on my laurels, remaining in the background in a wait and see strategy.
And they’d been on the offensive, their research teams dredging up situations from the past that Tempest’s legal teams were having difficulty squelching. What troubled me more than the overreaching attempts made by Covington was that the company and its CEO didn’t appear to be working alone.
This wasn’t George’s normal behavior, which likely meant he was being lied to.
What little information had leaked to the press had been done so with more creativity than the old fart had in his repertoire. I’d need to spend significant time delving into the possibilities if I wanted to avoid a marketing nightmare.
Which meant my side project of the contest should be pushed aside at least for the time being. Certainly not something I wanted, but was the most prudent decision.
Yet another reason I was livid.
After drying off and wrapping the towel around my waist, my phone dinged. An announcement of activity. I pulled the cell phone into my hand, using my thumb to navigate toward the application only recently downloaded.
It was after nine at night and my lovely influencer had returned to her office. I navigated to the screen, smiling as soon as I noticed what she was wearing. A tight tank top in white, the thin material unable to prevent me from seeing the darker outline of her blushing pink aureoles.
With the excellent quality camera I’d installed in the room, I had a perfect view of her hardened nipples.
My mouth watered for the first time in days.
Even my palms were sweaty, not from the inherent danger, although if she discovered the camera I’d hidden, the contest could come to an abrupt end.
My reaction was more about the elation I’d found overwhelming in simply watching her, enjoying her strict work ethic.
Yet tonight I could sense her heavy frustration.
I’d neglected hacking into her computer, which up until now I’d believed far more intrusive than the camera itself. However, I could easily change my mind.
I left the bathroom, heading downstairs to my office. Maybe what I needed so I could relax was indulging in doing nothing more than watching her.
Penelope had a calming effect when few things ever did.
I flicked on a single light and headed to the bar nestled in the corner. Surveillance had been a practice for years, but none had provided me with such joy in studying how a woman worked. Simple tasks.
With the drink in my hand, I settled into my chair and flicked on the large screen.
She was there, leaning over her computer with her brow furrowed and sucking on her bottom lip.
I’d come to realize when she was completely frustrated with a task, her body language expressed what she rarely did vocally.
I took a gulp while wondering if she had any idea a monster was sitting in a chair only miles way, enjoying every subtle move.
Knowing her, she’d find a way to retaliate. What I wouldn’t give to encourage her to do so.
I studied her through the lens of my webcam, treating her face like a piece of art I was trying to memorize.
The lighting in her room was poor, casting deep shadows under her cheekbones, but it only made her features look more dramatic, more defined.
She was looking down, reading something, her eyelashes casting long shadows.
It was a view I hadn’t gotten in person—this quiet, unguarded version of her.
I caught myself holding my breath, terrified that a sudden movement on my end would break her concentration and rob me of the moment.
Even though that was impossible.
She threw her head back, pushing away from her desk and leaning her head against the chair. As she swiveled it back and forth, I could almost see her mind spinning with thoughts and ideas.
The camera didn’t do her justice, but I couldn’t look away.
Her face was framed by the harsh glow of her laptop, turning her skin a soft, ethereal porcelain.
Every time she laughed, the video grain blurred slightly, as if the software itself couldn’t handle her energy.
I found myself tracing the curve of her jawline with my eyes, wishing I could reach through the glass to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek.
She was twenty miles away, but looking at her eyes on my screen, the distance felt like a lie.
As if I could merely beckon her with a single finger, knowing exactly how she’d react.
She’d drop to her knees, longing to please me.
Music played through unseen speakers, soft and mellow while working. Tonight it didn’t seem appropriate since her mind was on something else entirely.
What was she looking at? Seconds later, I sat up in my seat.
I quickly zoomed in, realizing the camera I’d added didn’t have a wide enough lens for me to see the entire room. However, something in the corner caught my eye. I’d be damned. She’d had the painting placed in her office.
Well, well.