Chapter 15 – Marcus （February 14）
"Let’s go harpoon a whale."
Blue’s voice in my ear is pure, unadulterated command, and goddamn if it doesn’t send a jolt of arousal straight to my groin.
I adjust my velvet lapel, checking my reflection in the glass of the double office doors that the head of security is reaching to open.
The suit is impeccable. The hair is perfect.
The grin? The grin is sharp enough to draw blood.
I love it when she gets bossy. None of us should be surprised that Demi had her own plan all along.
This girl has been twisting us up into pretzels since the moment we met her.
It’s one of the reasons we fell so hard for her.
I couldn’t weigh in with Thorne and Graves so close but I’ve always been a betting man and in this game I’m all in on our girl.
When Graves rushed over, interrupted us and whispered into her ear, her response was instant and my gut told me Demi had been burned somehow. Thorne had turned to me and tried to excuse herself.
I let the charming smile drop away, I just held her gaze, raising one eyebrow in a challenge, then turned my back on her and headed toward the side exit that leads to the terrace.
It was a power move. It said, I have something you want, but you have to earn it.
I only had to count to three to get what I wanted.
"Mr. Vane… Julian, please wait."
Her voice is smooth, cultivated, but I hear the edge of irritation.
I turned slowly. She’s followed me, not quite able to let the chance of the big cash injection slip away. Graves is a few steps back, his eyes scanning the perimeter, but he hasn't moved to intercept.
"Dr. Thorne," I say, giving her a lazy smile. "I was just leaving. Lovely party. A bit crowded for my taste, but lovely, and you appear to have more pressing things than me so…"
She steps closer, the scent of expensive lilies wafting off her. "Leaving so soon? We haven't had a chance to discuss that donation you mentioned. If you could just give me a moment. There’s been a small security alarm that requires my personal attention to deal with it."
"The eight-figure one?" I shrug, checking my Patek Philippe like I’m bored of this already.
"I admit, I was intrigued but I’m a businessman, Aris.
Can I call you Aris?" I don't wait for permission.
"I don't write checks for twenty million dollars based on ice sculptures and canapés. I invest in infrastructure, in vision."
Her eyes widen slightly at the number. Twenty million. That’s the magic number Damon calculated would override her caution.
"I can assure you, our vision is unparalleled," she purrs, stepping right up to me. She rests a hand on my arm, her nails digging slightly into the velvet of my jacket. "And our infrastructure is state of the art."
"Is it?" I challenge, looking down at her. "Because all I’ve seen is a ballroom. I want to see the brain, not the face. I want to see where the decisions are made. I want to see the... what did you call it in your speech? The heart of the operation."
She hesitates. Her eyes flick toward Graves, then back to me. She’s calculating risk versus reward.
"My private office is restricted," she says slowly.
"And my checkbook is closed," I counter, turning away. "Have a good night, Doctor."
"Wait."
Her hand tightens on my arm. Greed. It’s the easiest lever to pull, and Aris Thorne is made of it.
"I can show you," she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. "But we have to be discreet. I can't have the other donors getting jealous."
I turn back, flashing the full-wattage dimples. "I love discreet."
She signals Graves. The security chief moves in instantly, his gaze hard on me.
"Ma'am?"
"I’m taking Mr. Vane up to the executive suite with us to check the alarm and then have a private conversation. I’m sure it’s nothing, just a small, inconvenient glitch." she tells him.
Graves frowns. "Dr. Thorne, protocol states—"
"Protocols are what I say they are, Graves," she snaps, the polished queen facade slipping just enough to show the tyrant underneath. "Mr. Vane is a VIP. If you don’t feel you’re adequate to protect us, then call your man, Graft."
Graves stiffens, his jaw working, but he nods. "Yes, ma'am." He shoots me a look that says I’ll kill you if you twitch, but he steps back.
"Shall we?" She loops her arm through mine.
"Lead the way," I say.
As we walk toward the service elevator, I tap my ear casually.
The elevator ride was short and tense as I listened to Demi lay out her plan.
Thorne stands too close, her body heat radiating against my side.
She’s a beautiful woman, objectively. But standing next to her feels like standing next to a mannequin made of dry ice. There’s no spark. No fire.
She’s not even in the same league as our girl. I think of her messy red hair when she first wakes up, her sharp tongue and the way she moaned my name the last time I was inside her while digging her nails into my back. That’s fire, that’s real.
The doors slide open on the second floor.
"You’re quiet," Thorne notes as we step into the plush hallway.
"Just anticipating," I lie. "I like seeing where the magic happens."
"Oh, the magic happens in many places," she says, her voice taking on a suggestive lilt that makes my skin crawl. We reach the double doors and Graves swipes his badge on the scanner causing the doors to click open.
"After you," I motion her ahead.
The three of us step into the office. It’s dark, the moonlight casting long shadows across the floor and in one of those shadows waits Demi. The heavy door shuts behind us and someone hits the lights.
Thorne freezes. Her head snaps up as she sees Demi standing in front of her desk. "What the hell are you doing in my office? This area is off limits to staff!"
Blue stands there with a fierce expression on her face and a small smirk on her perfect lips.
Her eyes slide to Graves and she watches him unholster his side arm but she doesn’t react in any way.
I on the other hand immediately tense up.
She’s not Martha anymore. She’s ripped the glasses off, her wig is slightly askew, and she’s standing with her legs planted wide, holding the keycard up like a badge of office.
"Sorry to interrupt," Demi says, her voice dripping with that delicious, bratty sarcasm I love so much. "But I think you’re with my date."
Thorne spins around, her face twisting in confusion and rage.
"She’s the runner," Graves tells her. Stepping further into the room and lifting his gun slightly so he can cover all of us if he needs to. "A temp. And the girl who keeps showing up in places she shouldn’t be."
Thorne laughs, a harsh, incredulous sound. "A temp? For fuck’s sake! What kind of security are you running here, Graves?" She moves to the desk, reaching for the panic button under the ledge.
"Don't bother," I say, dropping the Julian Vane act instantly. My voice drops to its natural, rougher timber. "The alarms are dead and the cameras are looped.”
Thorne stops, her hand hovering over the button as her eyes bounce from me to Demi, the realization dawning on her.
"You know each other," she hisses.
"Intimately," I drawl, moving to stand beside Blue. I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me. "In fact, she gets really jealous when other women touch her things."
Demi looks up at me, her eyes flashing in amusement. "I’m not jealous. I just have hygiene standards."
Thorne gawks at us unbelievingly but then she gasps and spins around, clocking the frame of the picture that hides her safe popped open. She barks out that annoying condescending laugh of hers again as she turns back to us.
"The alarm? That was you? You actually thought you could crack my safe and steal from me? How stupid are you?" she chokes out on another laugh. “There’s no money in that safe!”
"I know. But there were some other wonderful things inside there.
" Blue taunts her and that has Thorne’s eyes widening in panic.
She spins back to the picture and almost rips it from the wall in her haste.
She goes through all the biometrics protocol and just like that, the uncrackable Heart Box is open.