Page 41 of Once Upon A Sale

I just wish my walking away weren’t so fucking hard.

Chapter Sixteen

Jarrett

Aweek ago, yesterday, is when I dropped Ophelia off at the warehouse in Detroit. It’s fucking killing my insides to not have her at my fingertips, to touch, to hold, to taste, to fuck into oblivion every time she opens that sassy mouth of hers…

With the inside of her home off limits, I’ve continued to watch her from a distance every time she leaves the house, and with the camera I installed on one of the palm trees out the front of her property, it’s easy to see when she’s out and about. She has also kept the bugging app I installed on her cell, which makes finding her location easier than it was for my first few months of stalking. I’m taking it as a good sign—that she wants to be watched by me—because there’s no way she forgot about it. She’s the most intelligent person I’ve ever known, so it’s not a mistake.

Ophelia doesn’t make mistakes.

It was made very clear when we parted that all bets are off. She’s still on this mission, and if she has to kill me, she will. I can understand that, but it won’t fucking happen. My Kitten needs me too much to kill me.

I know this because she’s been blowing off that Logan guy all week when he’s texted to take her out. For me, there’s no other reason that she would do that. Before our weekend, she would spend at least one night a week with him.

Watching her walk across the sand with her two best friends from my position at the beachside bar, I sip at my Miami Vice cocktail. When I first came to Miami, chasing Ophelia, it was the first drink I tried. My love of new-to-me alcoholic concoctions has always been a thing, plus, that show is a fucking classic.

The sun beats down on her golden skin, her blonde hair falling in loose waves down her back, and I’m struggling to not jump from my stool and beat every motherfucker who looks at her.

Is that…?

Fuck off.

Leaving my drink behind, I do the very thing I’ve been avoiding and leap from my stool, storming through the bar towards the cunt approaching the girls from behind. They haven’t seen him yet, as they continue their walk laughing and joking, and he’s far enough behind them for me to grab the fucker by his greasy hair without the girls noticing any commotion.

He swings for me, but I dodge him as I practically drag him away from the main part of the beach to somewhere with less people around.

“What the fuck, man?” He quits struggling when we stop and he gets a good look at me.

“Don’twhat the fuckme, Rick. What the fuck toyou. Why were you following those girls?” I don’t want to assume that he knows who Ophelia is to The Firm, but it’s pretty fucking coincidental.

The prick laughs, dragging his hand through his ridiculous hair and scraping it back against his scalp. “I think you know, Jarrett. Daddy dearest knows you’ve been keeping secrets, soI’m just here to make sure you haven’t forgotten who you work for.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Internally, I’m berating myself for not being more careful as of late. Since meeting her in that bar, I’ve been sloppy. She’s had me in a chokehold I never want to get out of, and now she’s in more danger than ever before.

Externally, my top lip curls in a snarl and I grab the front of Rick’s T-shirt before stepping into him.

“I know exactly who I work for, Prick. You need to back the fuck off from this or I’ll make fertilizer from your remains. You get me?”

Rick laughs again. “Oh, Jarrett. Fucking try it. Not only would you have your dad on your back, but the rest of The Firm too. You’re a very small fish in this huge-as-fuck pond. You and that girl have barely dipped a fucking toe. If you kill me, you can bet the next person they send won’t just watch her. Consider my appearance your first warning, yeah?”

Shoving him to the ground, I spit on the dirty fucker. “If I see you anywhere near her again, I’ll fucking kill you.Yeah?” I kick him in the ribs, just because I can, before turning to walk away.

“You should give your dad a call. He’ll put you back in your place.”

This dude just won’t shut the fuck up.

“Your mum really should have fucking swallowed you.” I continue walking back towards the beach, ignoring Rick the Prick’s fucking laughter.

I hate him.

The girls seem to have gone, Ophelia’s Corvette is no longer parked up by the road.

That’s probably for the best because with the mood I’m currently in, I’ll gouge a motherfucker’s eyes out for looking ather in that stunning red bikini again. All the restraint I had before seeing Rick is long gone.

On the walk back to my car, my phone rings and, of course, it’s my fucking dad. Rick the Prick has clearly grassed me up.

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