8. Helen #2
“Fiancé, then? Or how about Future Wife?” He strong-armed my chair around, stealing a soft gasp from my lips. Twisted around, I crossed my arms as he leaned back against my bookshelf. His brows pinched together. “As I said before, we have a lot to discuss.”
“We can talk about the attacks.”
“Whatever you say,” his smirk grew, “wife.”
Loudly, to prove my aggravation, I groaned.
“We found the mask maker. I know how much he was paid and how many masks of that design he made.”
“Brilliant,” he breathed, as if the word escaped before he could swallow it. He cleared his throat.
“I also have someone tracking down the handler who delivered the payments. The hope is that we can backtrack to who paid him for the masks, assuming it’s the same person who ordered the attacks.”
“You’ve been working hard.”
That was too close to a compliment. I needed to turn it around before the heat in my cheeks gave me away.
“That’s more than I can say for you. What have you been doing all this time? Killing anyone your father points at and fucking dumb blondes?” Venom dripped from every word.
Drake flinched back as if struck for a half second. Then he lunged across my desk. A heated, firm grip on my chin stole every drop of air from my lungs.
“Come on, Monty. You know me better than that.” His thumb twitched against my cheek as his eyes dropped to my lips. “I like my women smarter than me.”
My breath hitched.
“I will not be intimidated by you,” I hissed, surging across the desk to push his chest and meet his heady stare. He towered over me, but I narrowed my eyes in challenge.
He snatched his hand back as if burned. He swiped a hand over his face and blew out a harsh exhale.
“I don’t intend to intimidate or coerce or whatever the fuck else you want to convince yourself I’m doing.” His rich brown eyes stared out the window, mindlessly watching the people and cars swarming like ants on the streets below.
On shaky legs, I dropped into my seat. The desk wasn’t enough. I needed distance from him. Fuck, I needed an entire wall. The heat from his hand lingered on my skin and some part of me wanted to lean back into his smell and dive into it.
“Your parents gave us access to the bodies of your attackers before disposal. Half of them have been identified,” he said, voice strained. “Most of them are lowly criminals with no concrete ties to the crime families. I’ve got a nerd looking into their connections.”
If I remembered correctly, the nerd in question was likely Julian Rossi. Drake wouldn’t trust Douglas Miller with anything that important. And we both knew Rossi was nothing close to a nerd, not that Grade A Italian hunk.
“Any leads?”
“Dead ends so far.” He shrugged.
Our eyes met again, and an inexplicable shiver rippled through me. My nipples pebbled, pushing against the thin lace of my bra, and I thanked myself for wearing a black blazer.
“Good chat. I’ll follow up if I get a lead on the money handler. We have nothing more to discuss.” I gestured at the door. “You may go.”
“That’s not all, and you know it.”
“I won’t?—”
“You’ll have to face it, eventually.”
“—listen to this.”
“Our parents expect us to work together, Monty.”
“And we just shared our findings, didn’t we? That’s good enough!” I shot from my chair, body spiraling with furious energy. My hands flailed as I shouted, itching to cross the short distance and inflict an injury if it got him to leave.
“That’s not enough.” His tone dipped, going harsh and low. He pointed before curling his finger into his fist and dropping his hand. “Does your mother know that the attacker was aiming for you and not the security guard?”
I sucked in a gasp.
“That’s not true,” I retorted.
Drake took a step closer. Features twisted into something not unkind, but something else. I might have mistaken it for concern on anyone else, but he didn’t truly care for me. He never had.
“I studied the schematics of the attack and the reports. I even spent an hour in the parking garage studying the layout. That assailant aimed for you, but because of the angle of the car you were hiding behind, he got the guard instead.” His shoulders dropped with his slow exhale.
“Now, someone tried to shoot you the same night I was attacked in my home, Helen. That means something. They aren’t random attacks. We were both targeted.”
“The last time I worked with you, I got the shit end of the stick. I’m not interested in doing that again.” The words rushed out of their own volition. I clamped my jaw shut and jerked away.
Drake stumbled back, reeling away from the blow.
“I know we have a complicated past, but if you’d let me talk about it. Let me explain?—”
“No. Get out.”
“Helen.” His hand lifted, drifting across the distance.
I flinched back and sneered at him. “Touch me again and I’ll fucking kill you.”
His breath sawed out of him, ragged and wild as fraught energy flowed around us. In the silence, he smoothed his expression before straightening his suit.
“How am I supposed to leave when you say such sweet things to me?” His condescending purr sent a thrill through my traitorous core.
“You’ll change your mind when something happens, or when your parents send you crawling to me,” he promised.
My stare narrowed, willing daggers to materialize and pierce through his chest. He laughed, and the sound was almost nostalgic.
“That disapproving glare doesn’t work on me anymore. Find something new, Monty.”
When he vanished through my office door, my coffee mug sailed through the air, where the porcelain crashed into the wood and shattered into a hundred pieces.
A frustrated, muffled scream built in my chest as I watched the forgotten, cold drink drip to the floor and ran shaking hands through my hair.