Page 3 of Rush of Jealousy

His demeanor is angry. He looks pissed off and ready for war. He silently gives a nod to his security officer who stands on guard and ready to pounce on me if I step out of line. It is militaristic and raises every red flag I have in my arsenal.

Graham stomps toward me, and I cower back a few inches. I close my eyes in fear and open them at the tug of the tie around my waist as he conceals my outfit under the shield of my trench coat. I can only imagine how many people in this building—including those working in the security camera room—have gotten a view of my body. I guess I can add those people to the list who have seen indecent pictures of me while grinding against Graham in public places. He was in the pictures, so there is no way he could have taken them himself. My guess is that Collins is the photographer, and despite his professionalism in all things, it still will make me feel gross to be around him.

For someone who strives to avoid drama, it seems to keep finding me. The common denominator? Graham Hoffman.

Good thing for me, this all ends today.

I. Am. Done.

A string of curse words flutters out of his mouth as he rubs the sweat off his forehead. The only people here in the lobby are us and security. And I realize now that the only way for me to leave here is to have the conversation with Graham that I desperately want to avoid.

My mind spins and my head throbs from the chaos I’ve had to endure over the past hour. I feel on edge, as if the slightest breeze could make me crumble. I want to go home and lie down. I want to go to sleep and dream away this nightmare.

“Open up room three,” Graham says in his authoritative voice to the man who stopped me just minutes ago.

“Yes, sir.”

“And not a single interruption.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Be on standby. Call up to the CC room and figure out how to avoid this in the future.”

I watch dumbly as the man scurries off to do his ordered chores.

Graham glares down at me with determined eyes and gestures toward the open door that is located back past the elevator banks.

“Walk calmly or be carried.”

I shake my head at his testy directives but choose to walk just to avoid further embarrassment—even if it pisses me off beyond words. Right now, I don’t have a choice. He is going to make me listen to what he has to say—whether I like it or not. And deep down, I hate him a little more for it.

When we get inside the small room that simply has a desk, a computer, and three chairs, I take a seat at the one closest to the door we just arrived through. My sniffles are the only sound that is heard in the closed space.

Graham hands me a box of tissues, and I pull a few out. I wipe at my eyes and at my nose. Each time I wipe away moisture, more appears in its place. It’s like a faucet is turned on, and I cannot stop the flow.

He leans his body up against the front of the desk and strums his fingers over the side. The pattering sound raises my anxiety.

“Please don’t cry, Angie.” His tone is soft and would be comforting if I wasn’t so broken from what he did.

My eyes slide up his suited body until they reach his eyes. “You are the reason for the tears.” I sniffle.

Graham rubs at his temple, and I wonder if he has the same splitting headache that I have. “About a year ago my sister, Penny, was drugged,” he starts, “and possibly raped. At the very least, assaulted.”

I swallow hard and watch as his shoulders tense. He looks exhausted. As if he has not slept in weeks. And maybe he hasn’t.

“It has changed my entire family forever,” he explains. “I vowed to myself that I would find out what happened to her. She remembers nothing. Has no recollection of the night or the moments leading up to being found. As I started following the trail of people she interacted with, I uncovered an escort agency she got herself wrapped up in. Penny has always been carefree and impressionable. She trusts people at face value and always tries to see the good in others. She was in college but didn’t really know the direction she wanted to take for her studies. After a few modeling jobs, she started to get involved in that type of lifestyle of the elite. She encountered a few of the wrong people who wanted to use her ambition to further her portfolio against her. Anyway, after her attack and the discovery of the escort agency that she got involved with, I secretly formed a similar company so that I could”—Graham pauses as he struggles for the right words—“how do I put it?”

“Use the girls to help you get information?”

I watch as he runs his hands through his hair to the back of his neck. “Have easier access, yes.”

“So you used them as bait?”

He ignores my comment. “I also have access to the men purchasing the escorts. This is invaluable to me, because then at least I have a finite list of suspects. I could also separate those who have criminal backgrounds who try to seek access and get denied. Those names are meaningful as well.”

“But the girls are guinea pigs, right? Expendable?”

He lets out a sigh.

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