Page 18 of When Hearts Ignite

Letting out a ragged breath, I slide my hand over my face, my body exhausted, but my mind completely awake.

My mind floats to TransAmerica, to my father, who’s probably still awake in his office in LA, trying to figure out how to best protect the company. Inside sources told me Voss has approached some of the smaller investors. Easier targets, I suppose.

I should’ve stepped in earlier. Maybe if I had, Father wouldn’t be so worried right now.

Maybe if I had, he’d see me as worthy.

Gnashing my teeth together, my forehead drops against the cold window. It’s not too late. I’m Steven Kingsley, and I will win this. I will protect his legacy. He’ll understand then.

Another day, another race, another battle for me to win.

And hopefully, the famished beast inside me will be satiated, even if it’s only for a little while.

The office is a ghost town as I expected when I swipe my keycard over the sensor next to the double doors behind the lobby, which won’t be unlocked by the receptionist for another few hours.

After fitting in a quick run on the treadmill and a shower, I spent half an hour reorganizing the contents of my closet, hanging the newly cleaned dress shirts by color. I made a note to yell at the housekeeper for forgetting the precise order, the darks on one side, the whites on the other with the colors organized by gradient in between. By the end of that exercise, the haunted darkness inside me quashed to a low simmer, and I felt like I could breathe again.

Then, I came to the one place I knew I’d feel at peace, the place where I understood my role as soon as I stepped through the entrance. I know a lot of men make much more money than they can spend on Wall Street, and they’d blow some of it on drugs or women, but I prefer to sequester my billions in investments and bank accounts.

It’s not the money that drives me to work each day, but the satisfaction of each kill, each deal, the way the numbers always work in my favor after careful analysis and decisions on my part.

It gives me a thrill, a hit that jolts my system, livening up my senses.

Because only I can do it better than anyone else.

A heated rush churns inside me as I imagine the day ahead, the problems waiting for me to solve, to dismantle, and the last wisps of unease from my troublesome night finally disappear.

I stare at my phone, swiping through the unanswered messages I received last night.

Emily

Adrian and Parker are on their way to NYC. Treat them well…or else.

I smirk, imagining my sister wagging her finger at me like I’m still the short kid in middle school who she can boss around.

Steven

Consider it done. I’ll take great care of your husband, Ems. Don’t you worry about a thing.

Emily

Don’t you dare get him into something he shouldn’t get into.

Steven

You have so little faith in him?

Emily

No, I have zero faith in you. But now that I think about it, what are you going to do to him, anyway? Gourmet fine dining him to death? Have an all-work all-nighter party? Seriously, bro, you need to stop working so much. Do you need me to introduce you to some women?

Chuckling under my breath, I shake my head. Everyone knows my penchant for fine dining, so that’s no surprise. But come on, I have friends. I just don’t see them as often as I should.

The sound of a chair squeaking catches my attention.

My steps slow and I look up, noticing a warm glow radiating from one of the cubicles in the bullpen. The rest of the floor is still dark, the faint blue light from the beginnings of dawn barely filtering through the windows.

Frowning, I slowly approach the cubicle in question—I wonder why maintenance didn’t turn off all the lights before they went home after their daily cleaning. But instead of finding the space empty, I’m greeted with a sight so jarring and unexpected, I stop in my tracks and blink a few times to make sure it’s not a product of my sleepless imagination.

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