Chapter 28
Lucian Driver: I have something. I’ll be back stateside after the weekend.
Zeke: Is it enough?
Lucian Driver: Enough for him to be extradited to Columbia and imprisoned, if that’s what you want.
Zeke: Call my assistant when you land and set up a meeting.
ZEKE
It's Saturday night, two days since Lucian delivered the good news that he will be bringing back what I need to strong-arm Miguel out of the picture. I should be happy, but every time I think about it, I’m left with an inexplicably sour taste in my mouth.
On top of that, Diego is sick and has subsequently passed it on to his nanny, Maria, and Chloe is going out to celebrate her sister's birthday tonight.
All in all, I’m going to be left with very little to occupy my mind tonight but work.
Which does little to ease my tension as my biggest problem right now is that Anthony fucking Sweeney’s company, X-tech, reportedly has a competing software about to launch in our most lucrative sector.
The cork in the bottle of red in my hands pops softly out of the neck, and I twist it off the corkscrew as I scowl at the wall.
Discarding it in the bin, I then sling the stainless-steel screw back into the drawer and pour myself a glass.
On the plus side, Chloe has proven an excellent outlet for my frustrations.
Since that day in my office last week, as soon as Diego is asleep, we’ve been at each other like rabbits.
I’ve made good on my promise to fuck her on every surface in every room of this place.
She’s like a drug I can’t get out of my system, all fiery passion and sharp claws.
I keep waiting for the novelty to wear off, for the inevitable indifference to hit and sway my interest elsewhere, but it hasn’t. If anything, it just gets better.
The soft click of heels sounds from beyond the kitchen doorway. When she appears, it feels like I’ve taken a steel-capped boot to the gut.
“Did I miss the part where Tilly’s birthday is being hosted at a rodeo?
” I ask hoarsely, my eyes drinking in the wide rim of a brown cowboy hat and a denim bandeau dress that clings to every curve and finishes just below her ass.
I groan quietly as my eyes land on deep red leather cowgirl boots with a small heel that make her look like she’s just stepped out of a farmyard fantasy.
She grins, which makes my dick twitch, and walks around to the island to stand beside me.
Plucking the wine glass from my hand, she lifts it to plump lips painted the same color as those damned boots. “She chose the theme. I’m just doing as instructed.”
I watch her throat work to swallow the sip she takes, plagued by thoughts of stuffing my cock so far down it she can’t breathe.
Fuck. How can the most benign thing from her send me into a sex-crazed spiral?
Reaching out, I hook my finger over the banded top of her dress that sits across her cleavage and tug her softly toward me.
She holds the wine glass up, squeaking as she tries not to let the deep plum liquid slosh over the sides.
Sliding my arm around her back and down to her ass, I press my body against hers.
“I think you look too good to be going out without me,” I growl, dropping my lips to within an inch of hers.
Her eyes flash, but she turns her head as she lets out a shaky laugh. “No messing up my lipstick!”
I groan, burying my head into her soft neck instead.
“I can’t even kiss you?” My grumbled words are muffled against her silky skin, sweet peach making my mouth water as I squeeze her ass roughly.
My cock throbs painfully between us in my jeans, standing at full mast and begging for her attention.
She lets out a husky moan in that smoky little voice that drives me wild, her free hand jumping up to curl into the back of my hair.
“Zeke!” she yelps in protest as I sink my teeth into her flesh, but even if I didn’t feel her thighs squeeze together against mine, I know by now my girl likes it when I’m rough with her.
I pull back and give her a lazy smirk. Her hand drops from the back of my neck and her fingers tentatively trace the marks my teeth have left.
Something dark and primal unfurls in my chest, confident that it will mark her for a good while.
“You did that on purpose,” she scowls halfheartedly, but I see the corner of her lips flicker.
“I did.”
She grumbles something that sounds like “men,” before prying herself out of my arms. I reluctantly let her go and take the glass she presses into my chest. “I’m out of here before you maul me any more.
” She turns on her heeled boot and walks away as I let out a low chuckle, giving me an eyeful of an ass so rounded and tight it should come with a warning label.
After poking my head around Diego’s door to check on him, I fire up the laptop in my study. PG leaps onto my desk and scarpers across my keyboard in a flash of black fur, typing nonsensical letters into the password box.
“Oversized rat,” I mumble as he scoots into the shadows behind an armchair in the corner, grumbling audibly back at me like I’m the inconvenience and not him.
Noticing an email at the top of my inbox from an address I don’t recognize, I click it and scan the text. The message is one simple line.
Thought you might like to see this.
I frown at the file attached, leaning back in my chair and running a palm up my jaw, contemplating.
Biting out a grumbled curse, I quickly lock the file into a closed circuit in case it’s a trojan horse, and load it up.
The document contains fifty pages of focus group findings for X-tech’s Renoir project.
It only takes me a few minutes to scan the information and by the time I’m done, I’m fucking pissed.
Beyond pissed. I want to hunt down Sweeney’s address and tear his slimy little head off his fucking shoulders.
Without having eyes on the coding, this is as close as I’m going to get to evidence that their software is exactly the fucking same as mine.
Flicking back to the email, I quickly back-search the address and pull the IP it was sent from, forwarding it to Lucian with a message to investigate it as soon as he is back.
Forcing in a deep breath through my nostrils, I sit back and take a moment to clear the red haze descending over my vision.
There is a reason I’ve got a reputation in the business world for being cutthroat and this asshole is about to enjoy a firsthand education as to why.
***
Flinging an arm above my head, I stare at the dark ceiling.
The last time I checked my watch, it was 2 A.M. and I’d resolved not to check anymore.
My mind won’t shut off about work, but I’m not stupid—part of the reason I’m not asleep is that Chloe isn’t home yet.
Reminding myself for the tenth time that she’s a fully grown fucking adult who can look after herself, I roll onto my front and shove my fists roughly beneath the pillow.
It would be impossible for her to go out and not get attention from men in a garbage bag, let alone a teenager's wet dream of a cowgirl outfit. The thought makes me lift my head and start attacking my pillow with my fist to pummel it into a more comfortable shape. She’s got your ring on her finger, Guerra.
Fake or not, as far as the outside world is concerned, Miss Devlin is off the market and that settles my nerves a fraction.
Suddenly, I’m very pleased I chose a rock you can see from space.
A dull thud perks my ears and I pause, listening.
I’ve left my door ajar for this reason and after a few moments, I hear the unmistakable sound of soft footsteps casing up the hall, accompanied by a light whoosh of what sounds like a hand being dragged along the wall. Another thud, louder this time.
“Ouch, fuck! Shhh!” Flipping onto my back, I tuck an arm behind my head and stare at the dark doorway.
“I’m talking to a table.” A muffled snort erupts, like she’s clapped her hands over her mouth to stop from laughing and it spilled out of her nose instead.
“Aaaand now I’m talking to myself.” I wrestle back a smile and listen to the soft scuffling noise that ensues. “Eh, fuck it and fuck you, table.”
The handle jolts softly in its socket as my door is pulled open wider. Since my eyes are adjusted to the dark, I can see her appear, looking slightly unsteady on her feet. Her hand grapples at the wall blindly.
“Other side,” I say dryly, making her squeak and leap back, clutching at her chest.
“Don’t scare me like that!”
“Oh sorry, did I make you jump while you were sneaking into my bedroom?” I smile as she swaps sides, her fingers finding the light switch and flicking it on.
It’s a dimmer switch, but she’s whacked it on full blast so that bright light floods the room.
Grumbling a low sound from my chest, I blink a couple of times to adjust my eyes.
“Oops, sorry.” She twists the switch down to a low glow and grins stupidly at me from the doorway. She’s definitely drunk, but still looks like heaven. Fiery red locks curl down her back, some pulled to the front so they frame her face like a ruby fucking halo.
“Good night?”
“Didn’t get arrested, so I’d say so.” Her hips sway as she walks over to the bed, throwing down her purse and crawling up onto the comforter.
I hike one brow as I watch her crawl up the bed, my dick leaping to attention.
Pure, unadulterated mischief sparkles in glassy ocean eyes.
Typically, I make it a rule not to have sex with drunk women.
But I guess when you’re fucking as regularly as we are, there is no risk that she will wake up feeling taken advantage of.
Another brand-new situation to find myself in.