Page 38 of Controlled

Curtailing my beast had almost proven impossible.

My, oh, my. The lovely woman had already broken through my foolproof armor. My father had taught all of us how to wear masks to avoid scrutiny and to be able to blend in with society.

Like proper sociopaths.

Whap. Whap. Whap. Whap.

I hit the punching bag even harder, jumping from one foot to the other to avoid the swinging weight. I’d exerted enough energy given my state of mind that I had to rub my forearm across both eyes, the sweat stinging like a swarm of bees.

Why the hell had I given the woman so much time in the first place? My moments of strange behavior were starting to infuriate me more than trying to recapture my patience. What I knew was that for some insane reason, Carmine Rothschild, as disgusting as she’d become, hadn’t managed to sully my beautiful dancer. And she’d never be allowed the chance.

I’d even made inquiries as to her mother’s health, told almost nothing given the fucking HIPAA laws.

I remained furious and on edge, needing to drive my cock deep inside in order to calm the fuck down.

Learning patience had been a feat, not one I’d accomplished very well. So I boxed instead, trying to rid myself of the rage and the demons at least temporarily.

Whap. Whap. Whap.

I pounded the hanging red bag in front of me, watching it swing wildly. I’d had one installed in my office months ago, realizing how often I needed something to release tension, so I didn’t go off the deep end. The punching bag usually did the trick, but not today.

Whap. Thump. Wham.

I moved around the bag as I’d been doing for over forty minutes and the tension had yet to ease.

Wham. Wham. Wham!

Beads of sweat rolled down both sides of my face and my breathing was more labored than normal. I walked away, grabbing a towel from the cabinet near my desk. After wiping my face, I yanked a bottle of water from the small fridge, twisting off the top and chugging almost all of it.

Nothing had calmed the beast or his needs. I was quite certain nothing would until my lovely dancer was safely secured inside my house.

Why was it I was certain the taste of her lingered? As my office door was opened without anyone knocking, I was prepared to launch into the asshole who dared interrupt me. However, when Styx walked in an hour ahead of the board meeting, that meant he had something for me. I’d asked him for a favor.

That had prompted me to call my dear brother to find out what I needed to know. I turned around a couple of seconds later, studying his pinched face. It would seem he was far too much on the right side of the law as of late.

For now.

It wouldn’t last long.

He was glaring at me as usual. “Here’s what you need to know, Creed, but don’t ask me to break the law again. I’m trying to be a respectable citizen.”

“You mean pretending.”

“Fuck you.”

For a man who’d been the world’s greatest assassin, his methods either perfectly clean or bloody as hell, to act self-righteous was comical. He knew it. I knew it. His attempt at avoiding who and what he truly was exactly what Easton was doing as well. They would come to their senses.

“How was finding simple information on an unsavory bitch breaking the law? You’re a doctor. Bella’s mother is a patient at a facility where I know you’ve been before. There’s nothing wrong with finding out how her mother is. I’m a kind man.”

“You’re full of shit is what you are. How do you know Carmine Rothschild is a bitch?”

“Because she attacked Bella, scratching her face.” Now I sounded insane. Who the hell cared? “Because of her reputation in the past.”

Styx lifted his eyebrows. “Jesus Christ. You’re already obsessed with this girl. Did that happen last night after the ballet? If so, you’re a quick moving man.” When I grinned, he closed the door behind him, glaring at me once again and having the nerve to roll his eyes. “You might not want to hear this, but you need to be careful.”

“Why? You weren’t. Should I refresh your memory how you kidnapped your bride, holding her against her will for what, weeks? Months?”

He tossed the information he’d gathered on my desk, remaining quiet. “Asshole,” he finally said under his breath because he knew I was right.

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