Page 33 of Wreck Me

“In what context?”

“What do you think? Why did you order hands off?”

“Bastian called me when they arrived on scene to see you clashing with her.”

Lies.

“She disrespected me, tried to dominate me, and publicly humiliated me in the process, and you gave the order for me to stand down and—what—just fucking take it? I want to know why, King. Was it punishment for my fuck-up? Was it you making it brutally clear that I’m out of the inner circle now and this is the treatment I can expect going forward?”

“Your actions a few weeks back risked compromising our covert operations. The last thing any of us wanted was you drawing negative attention to yourself, or Bastian and us by association.”

“You’re saying it was all about me making a scene?” He frowned for a moment, and then his eyes sparked with that look of malice that had caused me far too many headaches over the years. “So, if I go after her in the dark of night and teach her that lesson I was robbed of dealing out, that’ll be fine with you? I mean, if it was just about drawing unwanted public attention, it should be cool, right?”

Insolent little shit.

“You’re so focused on who her mother is, because of the feud with yours that you’ve neglected to take to heart who her father is.”

“Some former soldier? I know all about it actually. So what?”

“You don’t know all. He’s ex-Special Forces and he’s also connected.”

“Connected to who? Because I find it hard to believe that you, of all people, would hesitate to hit at somebody for anything, any obstacle, least of all the connections they have. You have the means to steamroll over anyone.”

That was his ignorant view of how I dealt with things, how I operated.

But even trying to school him on the intricacies of it all was pointless. He simply wasn’t wired that way. He was far too reactionary for that, all aggression and instant gratification.

“It’s a balancing act, Damien.”

He frowned again, thinking it all over.

“So, it’s just some business you have with her old man, or people he’s connected to. It’s not about her?”

“Why would it be? She’s a twenty-year-old former design student. She’s not a power player, nor was she when she resided here beforehand, not even a blip on the radar.”

“All right then.” He blew out a breath and cracked his neck. “Yeah, you know, I was really riled up that day. Her being new to Luxe and coming back to this place after being away a while, she was probably just on the defensive and picked up on that from me, must’ve just had her reacting unusually harshly and out of character. I mean, she did partially apologize. She’s just a girl, inconsequential. Going after her will make me look petty and pathetic, given she’s a nobody.” He rose to his feet. “It’s done, yeah. Yeah, I’ll let it go.”

I kept my eyes on his, but in my peripheral vision, I noted his right fist clenching and unclenching.

His tell.

The little fucker was lying.

Playing the game, I smiled and pushed to my feet, rounding my desk to him.

“Glad to hear it.” I held out my hand. “No hard feelings concerning me removing you from the team? You understand my reasoning and that it’s in your best interests now?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” he said, taking my hand. “I know you’re just looking out for me. Seb’s important to you, makes his family under your care and protection too.”

“Absolutely.”

He shook my hand, puffing out his chest and stretching to his full height in the process, trying to match my naturally commanding air.

All right, it was closer to intimidation.

And warranted.

Very much so for this duplicitous and unhinged bastard, who was only growing more of both of late.

---