Chapter 16
Xander
That shot me like a bullet to the gut. Having to brush her off as one of my employees—because of Penelope—sent a surge of rage through me like no other.
She stood at that gate, waiting for me like a lost fucking puppy. And I watched as Camila sped off down the path, wanting nothing more than to chase after her. In the pissing rain, on foot if I had to.
But, alas, there’s work that needs my attention.
Like Max and the information he has.
I saw the flash of jealousy in Penelope’s eyes.
There’s nothing keeping my complete obsession with Camila at bay, and if Jac was to ever find out, he’d take her from me.
No amount of tablets shoved down my throat will help the rewired chemistry in my brain at one simple thought of her.
Which is why, as much as I want to go back to watching her flit about her living room from the bonnet of her car, I have to show face.
Act like everything’s normal. When the simple fact is, it isn’t normal.
Especially not when I can feel that as much as she tries to stay away from me, push me away, she still wants to be near me.
She wants me. As much as she denies it, she wants me. She can’t resist our inevitable pull.
Little does she know that I’ve trapped her now. Her little speeding-off act did nothing but make me eager to get my hands on her again.
There’s a little voice—deep, deep in my subconscious—begging, screaming at me to take my medication.
That this isn’t the way this is supposed to go.
But what my subconscious doesn’t realise is that even if I did take my meds, it can’t undo what’s already done.
Camila spends far too long in my head. When I try to sleep, she’s there.
When I close my eyes, her face and those unbothered, viridian eyes liquidate the darkness that smothers my brain like thick oil whenever I’m not in her proximity, until all I can think about is her and how I would kill to have her by my side every single minute of the day.
Kill. Because I’d kill any fucker that tried to get in the way of me and her. And my little Angel has secrets she hasn’t shared with me yet.
Right now, I need to focus on acting like nothing is happening. So, I force my legs to move through the marble halls of the office wing, all the while her panting breaths echo in my mind.
As if it wasn’t enough that she wears green every night at the club, her eyes also happen to be green.
A colour that I’ve tried so hard for years to ignore.
When we bought the estate, we had the trees removed and cherry blossoms planted.
I needed to minimise the green surrounding the grounds.
Every time I looked at that colour, it resurfaced fear that I’ve buried deep down inside me and cemented over.
Until her.
Whenever I look at her, it’s not fear that I feel. It’s the ferocious need to keep her safe, to not let her out of my sight—easier said than done without looking absolutely insane standing outside of her window all hours of the day or literally bending her to my will.
She’s created herself a permanent place in my head that can’t be erased, and if it was, there would be a gaping hole where the image of her would’ve been. And if she ever tried to run, not even God himself could save her from me.
“The charity ball is all set and ready to go, Mr Warren. We’re still waiting on a few RSVPs, but they will probably show up without letting us know, as they usually do every year.” Penelope updates me on our event as we make our way to the first-aid room.
I clutch the full bottle of pills in my trouser pocket.
The ball is the last thing on my mind right now, but it’s something we’ve been doing for years. We might do things that are… out of the norm… but we put that money to good causes. It’s a non-negotiable every year.
Maybe Camila can accompany me this year. That’ll solve that problem.
Jac said Max was stable and will make a full recovery, while I spent my night outside of Camila’s flat.
Now it’s time to see him and ask him what the fuck happened over that week he was gone.
The money from both new areas has been rolling in, so the deal is secured—but Aidan is missing again.
They dumped Max on our doorstep and are now MIA.
The door is already open when we get there, so we step into the white room, the smell of chlorine hitting my nose.
There are two surgical beds next to each other on the left side of the room—just in case—and a row of cupboards opposite, with a large window spanning most of the back wall, overlooking the infinity pool.
Jac, Ezra, and Daniel are surrounding the bed, their faces unreadable.
The rain has slowed. They’re all dressed in black like they’re mourning something.
Daniel’s white hair sits neatly on top of his head, blue eyes taking in my wet form.
“Boss,” Max smiles, weakly lifting his arm in a greeting.
Most of his exposed chest is covered in stitches.
The tattoos on his arms have disappeared from view, replaced by fresh bandages, and his black hair lies messily on the top of his head.
Hazel eyes, bright as ever, and—luckily for him—only a few scratches on his face.
Still swollen but recognisable as Max now.
A small smile starts on my face at the sight of him recovering.
“They got you pretty fucking good, kid,” I say as I sit on the chair on the other side of the bed, opposite Jac.
Max isn’t a kid, but he’s younger than me and Jac. He’s only twenty-two. We were hesitant to let him work for us, but he’s got a knack for maths and bargaining. He insisted. He has a younger sister at home he wanted to take care of, and that pulled on my fucking heartstrings.
Safe to say, he and his sister live a very comfortable life in a penthouse in the centre of London. It’s not unusual that Max goes missing for weeks at a time to keep his sister safe. He prefers to keep her out of the underworld. She most likely had no idea that Max was missing.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Jac grills, looking me up and down.
I roll my eyes. “I got caught in the rain this morning coming back from the Lounge.”
He gives me a sceptical look but doesn’t comment further.
“Have you called your sister?” I ask Max. He nods in response.
“Happy as Larry, like always. She was just glad to hear from me.”
I nod. He’s a lucky kid to have a sister that cares for him deeply. The only person that ever cared for me aside from Jacques was taken from me. The one person that was supposed to care for me never did.
She’s the reason I’m so fucked up now.
“What happened?” Jac asks him.
Loud tapping of nails on a screen interrupts the silence in the room. I slash my gaze to Penelope, who freezes and searches all our faces.
“Out,” I grit. She shoots up from her chair and scurries out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“I—I can’t remember,” he sighs.
Go fucking figure.
“They drugged me. And I—I don’t remember anything apart from getting away when my body finally came to. There was a fire. A lot of drugs were burnt along with it.”
“It’s why hardly any money has been coming in from Chelsea yet. They burnt the fucking drugs,” Jacques curses.
“Do you remember how you got taken?” I ask Max, who shakes his head.
Shit.
“I’m sorry, boss. If I knew, I would tell you.”
“I believe you. Rest up. You can go back home when you’re better.” I smile, straightening from my chair. I turn to Ezra and Daniel as Max picks up a glass of water from the side table. “Any more information on Burns?”
Daniel shakes his head. “Robert seems to think he could be with the Dellers.”
Robert—our hacker.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Jac comes to stand in our semi-circle. “He said he doesn’t mess with them. Unless he lied, and he really does have connections to the Dellers.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket with a text. My background of Camila from our DL Instagram lights up before I even glance at the message, and a smile spreads over my lips.
Rob: May have a track on A.
I look up to find Jac’s eyes fixed on me, his brown hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck.
He cocks his eyebrow.
“Rob might’ve found a lead on Aidan. Stay vigilant,” I state and aim towards the door.
Max gives a weak laugh from behind me. “That’s the look of love.”
I freeze with my hand on the handle. Both of our guards snicker.
“I think Xander has a different definition of love in his vocabulary,” Jac chimes in, and I spin my head around as he gives me a pointed look.
An unspoken communication happening between us.
He wants answers. If anyone can read the slightest emotion on my face, it’s him. And now apparently fucking Max.
Answers that he’s not going to get. I have it under control, and I don’t need him to think otherwise.
“Assholes,” I grumble before exiting through the door.