Chapter 34
Henry’s grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles blanched. He’d parked a few houses down from Natalie’s latest client meeting, but the sight of the big SUV in the driveway only fanned the flames in his chest. His pulse pounded—not from fear, but from sheer indignation.
Natalie Gibbons. The office golden girl.
Charming every client, soaking up their loyalty, making his agency—his name—fade into the background.
For months, he’d watched her smile her way into contracts, watched clients praise her work while forgetting the firm that made it possible.
She wasn’t just another employee anymore. She was a threat.
And threats had to be dealt with.
He glanced at the black SUV parked nearby, its windows dark and impenetrable. The kind of car people with real power used. The sight stung. She’d surrounded herself with muscle now, broadcasting control—and making him look small.
That wouldn’t stand.
He strode toward the house, his anger barely contained. When two men in dark suits stepped down from the concrete stairs, blocking his path to the client’s front door, he didn’t slow. “Step aside,” he barked. “I’m Natalie’s boss, and I need to speak with her immediately.”
The taller guard didn’t so much as blink. “Sir, Ms. Gibbons is in a client meeting. She will speak with you afterward.”
Henry’s jaw flexed. “Do you know who I am? I own the agency she works for. That meeting, her schedule—every single thing she’s doing—is because of me.”
The guard’s tone stayed maddeningly even. “We understand, sir. But Ms. Gibbons requested privacy. Please return to your office.”
“Privacy?” Henry’s voice rose. “She works for me! She wouldn’t have clients if it weren’t for me. Now step aside before—”
The second guard shifted forward, cutting him off without raising his voice. “Sir, this meeting is important. Respect her request.”
A hot pulse of humiliation shot through Henry.
She was making him look like an outsider.
These strangers were speaking to him like he was the problem.
He couldn’t let her get away with it. His hand twitched toward the inside of his jacket—a calculated move.
He wasn’t going to use the gun, but they needed to see he was serious.
He didn’t get the chance.
A hand clamped around his wrist in a flash of movement, the grip like iron.
Pain exploded up his arm as the guard twisted sharply, the gun clattering to the pavement.
Before Henry could curse, his other arm was wrenched behind his back and he was driven down to the cold sidewalk, cheek grinding against the concrete.
“What the hell are you doing?!” he roared, his words muffled against the pavement. Humiliation burned hotter than the pain.
The second guard scooped up the weapon, popped the magazine, and locked both away with infuriating calm. “Police are on their way,” he murmured into a mic hidden at his collar.
“Police?” Henry spat. “You’re wasting their time! This is a business matter!”
“Stay still, sir,” the first guard said, tightening the zip cuffs around his wrists.
Faces began appearing in the nearby windows, neighbors peering out with shameless curiosity. The heat in Henry’s chest boiled over. This was public. This was unforgettable.
And then she stepped outside.
Natalie.
She looked radiant, as always—effortlessly poised, her bright smile freezing when her gaze landed on him pinned to the pavement. The flicker of shock in her eyes softened into something far worse.
Pity.
The sight of it sliced straight through his pride.
It was unbearable—like she was standing on a pedestal, looking down at him as if he were pathetic.
In that instant, his resentment crystallized into something darker.
He hated her—not just for being the reason he was reduced to this spectacle, but for her composure, her unshakable grace while he was face-down on concrete with strangers holding him like a criminal.
His breath came hard and fast, the fight bleeding out of his limbs until he went still. Not because he’d accepted defeat—never—but because conserving energy now meant striking back later.
In the distance, sirens wailed, growing louder with every passing second. Each note was another twist of the knife. This scene—her standing there, the guards looming, the neighbors watching—would be remembered. Whispers would spread. His name would be attached to this humiliation like a brand.
But not forever.
As the guards held their positions, impassive and unyielding, Henry’s mind churned. There was always a way to turn the tables. Always a way to make someone regret underestimating him. Natalie might think she’d claimed some sort of victory today, but she’d only started a war.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.