Chapter 37
PIERCE
Entering the study, I raised my palm and gestured for Stewart to remain seated.
He dutifully sat back down, his hat in his lap, and eyed the tea service Elijah no doubt brought in to warm our guest.
The sheriff took a moment, his eyes scanning me. If he thought anything about my half naked and bloody state, he was wise enough to keep it to himself.
Despite making him wait over an hour already, I would begin the meeting when I was ready and not a moment sooner. I held my hands behind my back and stared out of the window, listening to the thunder rolling in from outside.
I inhaled deeply, calming my thoughts.
I needed to focus on the task at hand and not on Madison down the hall.
But thoughts of the cliff crashed through me. Her beautiful eyes flashing fire and desire, her hair whipping in the wind, the way my kiss made her lips blush a harsh, bright red.
I shifted my hips as my cock swelled. Good thing I was still facing the window.
Walsh impatiently adjusted in his seat. I glanced over my shoulder as he repeatedly glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner, no doubt lamenting the passing minutes.
Too damn bad.
He was on my time.
There was a knock on the door. I called out. “Enter.”
The door opened and my valet entered carrying a heavy cobalt blue dressing robe. I slipped my arms through the robe without a word, and he quickly backed out of the room.
After belting the robe into place, I took my seat at my executive oxblood leather chair and grabbed the silver pitcher of coffee.
I filled a mug to the brim and then asked, “You know what I need, right, Stewart?”
Walsh fidgeted, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.
His gaze darted to the large manila envelope on the desk.
“Y-yes, Mr. Worthington,” he stammered over the loud crack of thunder outside. “Those guards who caused problems for Madison Hastings will...disappear.”
I smirked.
I opened the envelope, pulled out several stacks of bills, and slid them across the desk.
His eyes nearly bulged from his skull. I kept my hand on the stacks.
“Remember, Stewart, my generosity extends only as far as your loyalty. I will be tied up here with a personal matter. So I will need you to tell the others the same applies to all charges related to Madison. They will receive their share in due course.”
“Madison was about to be found guilty, I don’t know how I can—”
“The tape was doctored. Claim it was some hacker just trying to make trouble. Call for an investigation which of course will go nowhere. Make sure the judge knows and throws it out, and Madison’s charges will disappear with it.”
He gave me a curt nod. “I’ll see to it personally, Mr. Worthington.”
“Make sure it’s done,” I commanded, holding his stare over the rim of my mug.
Walsh stood, hands shaking as he stuffed the bills into the inside pocket of his uniform jacket and made for the door, eager to be anywhere else.
I let him go.
A moment later, a gentle rap at the door, and at my behest it swung open to reveal Mrs. Bigsby.
She held a white towel and a medical kit in her capable hands. “Mr. Worthington, I heard about your mishap. You must let me dress that wound on your head.”
I touched the laceration gingerly, the dried blood caking my fingertips like rusty dust.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bigsby. Your kindness is most appreciated.”
With the wound tended to, Mrs. Bigsby left without a word, contempt radiating in her every gesture. She did her job well, but like Elijah, I knew she did not approve of my choices. As long as she didn’t voice her disapproval, she could stay.
Rain clattered against the windows. Thunder rolled on.
Life had become boring.
Even Jameson and his melodramatic schemes were a tedious annoyance.
Business held no challenge.
Until Madison had entered my world…and sealed her fate.
I didn’t even care that my brother had her first. Normally such a thing, given my competitive nature, would have been a turnoff, but my attraction to Madison, my need for her, was too great.
Although it bothered me to think that my piece of shit brother Jameson had touched someone so pure as my Madison.
The very idea that his filthy hands had been on her made me want to brand her with my touch, my mark, my scent that much more.
I wanted to burn away the memory from her body and mind until her only thoughts were of me.
Alone once more, I stood by the window, staring out into the tempest.
The storm would pass. But the consequences of my choices would reverberate long after the thunder had ceased. Even with all my wealth, there was only so long I could keep her captive here, before people would begin to talk.
Perhaps it was time for another approach?