Page 18 of Cruel Hero

Diane knows better than to interrupt me during meetings.

She has been working with me long enough to grasp that an interruption signifies someone is in trouble—or will be soon. This only happened once before, when our delivery to the Italian Mob was hijacked, resulting in millions of dollars of missing firearms and an enraged mafia boss.

Today, a sense of unease settles in the pit of my stomach as Diane strides into the room with a determined expression on her face. She shuts the door behind her and stands before me, arms crossed.

This must be important.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says as I hit the mute button, “but I believe you’ll want to hear this.”

I turn away from my monitors and give her my full attention.

“What is it?”

“Tiffany Carter arrived fifteen minutes ago. She insists on meeting with you and says it’s urgent.”

My eyebrows shoot up. Tiffany? Here? A mix of emotions swirls through me—surprise, curiosity, and foolish hope.

I am, in fact, wrapped around her little finger, even if she is oblivious to it.

“Tiffany Carter?” I ask, aware of the expectant faces on my screen. “Is she with anyone?”

Diane gives me a knowing look. “No, she’s alone.”

I run my hand through my hair and frown. I went to great lengths to see her, only to be told to leave her alone. And now, a few days later, she wants to meet with me? Tiffany’s actions make little sense.

I hesitate, my fingers drumming on the polished surface of my desk. Part of me wants to maintain the distance Tiffany herself had insisted upon. But another part, a part I thought I’d silenced, yearns to see her.

Turning back to the screen, I unmute my microphone and address my colleagues. “Gentlemen, I apologize, but an urgent matter has come up. Can we reconvene in a bit?”

As they murmur their agreements, I cut the connection and turn to Diane. “Connect her through to my office. I’ll hear what she has to say.”

I don’t need to see her again; the night at the gala was all my self-control could handle. This time, I need to approach her with caution.

As she turns to leave, I call out, “And Diane? Hold all my other calls.”

Diane nods and leaves the room. Waiting for her to connect the call, I sit back in my chair, a weird sense of anxiety building in my chest.

It’s almost like I’m nervous, which is absurd considering who I am and what I do for a living.

The intercom buzzes, and Tiffany’s voice fills the room, strained and breathless. “Adrien?”

Fuck.

Her sweet, slightly raspy voice brings an unexpected wave of longing to my chest. I dream about her voice, her smell, and her touch, and right now, all I can think about is how badly I want to lay eyes on her again.

My heart pounds in my chest like a war drum.

“I thought you asked me to stay away from you?” I keep my voice level. “Why are you here?”

She’s silent for a moment, and I almost wonder if she’s going to hang up. But then she speaks, and her voice is steadier. “I’m here to ask for help.”

“Help?” I sit up straighter. “What kind of help?”

Silence.

“Tiffany?”

“Some of my uncle’s business partners reached out to me today. He promised to supply them with certain goods, but he hasn’t followed through.”

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