Page 138 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

Before the phone could ring again, he snatched it up. His head was already pounding from staring at documents. “Taylor.”

“Blackwood,” came the familiar gruff voice on the other end.

Angelo perked up instantly. “I’m listening.”

“I’m forwarding an email. It’s got the details on the target,” Talon said in his usual clipped tone, as if every extra syllable was a waste of breath.

Angelo opened his inbox, spotting the new email with a subject line that made him smirk: Hunted.

Real subtle, this guy.

“I’m looking at it now,” Angelo muttered, half hoping Talon would spare him the pain of wading through endless files. Reading through walls of text wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time.

Luckily, Talon wasn’t one to waste time. “Check the attachment. The target’s been dealing with the underground for years.”

Angelo clicked open the file, his eyes quickly scanning the contents. And there it was, plain as day. Oliver Lockwoodhad been knee-deep in shady dealings for years—all while maintaining a spotless public image. The guy had practically built his empire on dirty money and had everyone fooled into thinking he was one of the most respected businessmen around.

Talon’s voice broke through Angelo’s disbelief. “He hit rock bottom about twenty years ago. Blew through his fortune faster than he could make it back. That’s when the greed kicked in.”

Angelo’s gaze flew over a series of money transfers, incriminating conversations, and even a few damning photographs. It was all there, in black and white. The further he read, the harder it was to believe that Lockwood had gotten away with this for so long.

As Talon continued laying out the details, Angelo leaned back in his chair, still reeling from what he was seeing. This wasn’t just dirt—it was dynamite.

Lockwood’s days were numbered.

Angelo whispered to himself with a smirk, “You’re going down, Lockwood.”

“Empty threats won’t work on me, boy.” Lockwood’s voice was defiant, but his appearance told a different story. Gone was the confident man who had once commanded his boardroom with ease. Now, he looked uncertain—and Angelo liked him better that way.

Leaning back in his chair, Angelo’s grin turned wolfish as he studied his prey.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to assume these threats are empty, Mr. Lockwood,” he said coolly. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. I know what you’ve done to hundreds of companies—and what you tried to do to mine.”

The color drained from Oliver’s face, and for what might have been the first time in his life, he looked genuinely afraid.

Angelo smirked, enjoying the shift in power. “Now, I do apologize for cutting this short,” he added, his voice dripping with insincerity, “but since you decided to barge in here unannounced, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ve got business to attend to.”

That was a complete lie, of course, but there was no way Lockwood would know that.

Without another glance at the man, Angelo unlocked his computer and casually opened the contracts he’d been reviewing earlier, acting as if he’d already forgotten the older man was in the room. The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the sound of Lockwood’s quiet, awkward retreat.

As the door closed behind him, Angelo’s smirk widened.

Pettiness has a name, and it’s Angelo Taylor.

The next morning, Angelo was itching to tell Allison what had happened with her father as he stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes. He’d been up since five, calling into the office early—knowing his PA was just as much of an early riser. Once upon a time, Allison had been too.

He couldn’t help but remember one of their late-night texting sessions a few months back when she’d opened up about her job. How much she enjoyed it—at least, when her father wasn’t involved. How he worked her into the ground, setting impossibly tight deadlines for everything.

The maternity leave had done her some good, though. Still, Angelo knew she couldn’t completely detach; she was still managing her father’s meetings from a distance.

She’s just fucking amazing. And my dick needs to calm down.

He piled the pancakes onto plates, paying extra attention to Allison’s and topping hers with fresh blueberries—just the way she liked it. He loved knowing the little details: how she took her breakfast, what she craved, her favorite milk.

He treated it like a business venture—only way more enjoyable. He’d memorized her every reaction and expression the way others memorized stock trends.

With Allison’s plate perfectly prepped, complete with freshly squeezed orange juice (pulp included, of course), he set it on a tray and left his and Katerina’s plates on the counter. Allison and their daughter came first.

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