Page 18 of Vermilion Desire

“Oh,” I coo, highly pleased at his will to continue this game with me. “I am far from done, Mr. Berkshire.”

Ah, yes. I forgot about the letter and the content that needed to be addressed. I stand from the chair with the untouched coffee cooling on the table, and I take the letter too since it was supposed to be given to me.

“I work for myself. You can give me one million in benefits every year, and I still wouldn’t work for you.”

He chuckles, not the response that I was expecting. However, not being able to fully read him is what makes toying with Braxton an entertainment for me.

“I was expecting that, Miss. Scarletta. I already have what I came here for.”

I cock an eyebrow, staring down at him while he sips his chamomile tea with a hint of distinctive Nepeta cataria that leaves a faint minty scent. An odd choice for a drink, but rich folks have rich taste buds.

“Is that so,” I murmur, nonchalantly. I have no intention of giving him the pleasure of knowing he had gotten my curiosity as to what his intention was when he called me here.

I lean closer to him, cutting off the chance of others hearing us. “I wouldn’t try to frame me for a crime with my fingerprint on the spoon. That’d be a spiteful job even for you.”

“Good day,” I bid him goodbye and leave him in the coffee shop by himself.

As I stroll down the streets of this busy city, I have no qualms about anyone following me. Braxton isn’t above using dirty tricks if this experience teaches me anything. I should expect to be followed, but that’s fine.

I’m going to see Cal and Mr. Wolf anyway. I doubt they will follow me into the police station while all dressed in black suits and an earpiece popping out of their heads. A possibility that he has police officers in his pocket is too evident to be neglected, and I’m very inquisitive about how this case will go in court.

The case will start in less than one week, and time is of the essence. I should pick up my pace now that I have another piece of the puzzle. It brings a lot of light into the Berkshire family history just by the information I collected in that ten-minute meeting.

“Hello, officer,” I greet the man at the front desk. “I’m looking for Mr. Wolf.”

There is only one person named Wolf in this place, and he immediately knows who I’m talking about. The officer smiles at me; his mood lightened when I address him by his title rather than a lower and more general title.

Cal said that every officer, no matter what rank they are, wants to be acknowledged for their accomplishments, so their titles are extremely important to them.

“Give me a moment,” the officer says, picking up the phone. It rings and rings, but no one picks up.

“They must be busy.” He hangs up.

I nod, not all too heartbroken about it. They are detectives; their job requires them to run around the city when a lead pan out.

“Thank you, officer.” I smile, waving at him as I turn to leave.

There’s an angry shout, and a struggling man barks out curses at Cal who has him in handcuffs. Of all the times I have visited him at the police station, I have never seen him or Mr. Wolf pull in someone with handcuffs.

No one bats an eye at the scene, nor do they spare a second glance. This scene is not of rare occurrence, but I’m amazed at the calmness in Cal’s eyes as he crooks an eyebrow at me.

“What’re you doing here?”

I pull my backpack to the side, fishing out the envelope and a memory card. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, skepticism etched on his frown as the struggling man tugs on his restraint harder.

“What’s that?” he asks.

I secure the memory card into the envelope and goofily grins at him. “Don’t open this until your next biggest emergency.”

“What?” he grunts, restricting the man’s movement by snapping a hand on his shoulder. A single push down on a pressure point makes the man’s knees buckle.

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll come in handy!” I wave the envelope, but my attention falls on the ever-handsome Mr. Wolf.

My smile grows wider, brighter, and much happier. Cal snorts and much to his chagrin, I skip to Mr. Wolf as he meets me halfway with us being in the center of a spectacle.

“What are you doing here?” he inquires, curious eyes flickering between my face and the envelope in my hand.

“I come bearing gifts!” I smack the envelope into his hand and promptly throw my arms around his neck, but I had to get on my tiptoes to be able to do that.

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