Page 147 of The Catalyst

Did this man just seriously ask me to kill his fuckingnephew? Like, of all people!

He can’t ask me to do that.

“And there it is,” Nolan Gray grins like the Cheshire Cat as he crosses one leg over the other.

“There’s what?”

“The line you have drawn in the sand, the lengths youwon’tgo for him. I’m sure Mr. O’Reilly appreciates it, but does he know you’ve been screwing Mr. Doyle behind his back?”

I don’t say anything. I’m stunned that he would think that, but how does Nolan know anything that has transpired between me and Oliver?

“I thought you might be Mr. O’Reilly’s love since the accident. Why else would he have attacked my son? It only made sense that you two were involved, but then why wasn’t he the one to pull you out of the truck? Instead, Mr. Doyle ran to aid you and stuck by you constantly until you were released from the hospital. I thought maybe I was wrong about you and that Mr. O’Reilly attacked my son to protect his friend and that you were with Mr. Doyle, but then you showed up here to plead for him. So, tell me, does he know you’ve been screwing his friend?”

“No.”

He nods pensively. “Alright, Miss Mercer. I think I can help you out.”

I let out a heavy breath I didn’t realize I needed to let out to relieve the stress building in my body. It worked.

I took a chance, and he’s actually going to listen.

“Thank you.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Don’t thank me yet. I give nothing away for free, but I think we can work something out. There’s a job that I think you would be perfect for and in exchange, I’ll release Mr. O’Reilly.”

Before I can question him about this elusive task he wants me to do, a knock sounds on the door before it opens with the annoying butler standing there.

“Master Nolan, the kitchen staff would like me to inform you that lunch is ready, and there is plenty if you wish to invite an additional guest.” Then, the asshole motions toward me with his head, and I start to object.

“No, that’s okay. I wouldn’t–”

“You’ll join me and Martin, Miss Mercer. We still have much to discuss.”

My eyes turn to saucers. Just him and Martin? What happened to Mrs. Gray and Michael? Why aren’t they here to join us?

“Okay,” I concede, knowing I don’t have much of a choice but to make nice until I accomplish whatever this task is that he has for me. After Nigel is free, we can all get on with our lives.

Once I’m standing, Nolan Gray presses his hand to the small of my back. Those familiar snakes bite at my flesh in every spot this vile creature touches.

It takes everything in me not to push him away.

He guides me out of the room and down the endless corridors until we make it to the dining room–or I assume it is since it’s a massive room with a long table taking up a good deal of the room. Still, I assume it’s intended for dinner parties or celebrations. If it’s not being used for anything else, I don’t see why they wouldn’t use it for private lunches.

Martin sits at the table, sipping what I can only assume is a glass of water, but when he sees me slip into the chair across from him, he chokes on it, his eyes widening.

“Manners, Martin,” Nolan growls low in his chest as he sits in his chair.

I barely refrain from yelling at the devil for barking at him like that.

“Miss Mercer will be joining us for lunch today. We have some business to discuss, an exchange of favors if you will.” He motions to the empty air as if that explains everything, but it’s clear Martin has no clue what he is talking about.

“An exchange?” His confused eyes dart to me as their staff enters the room from a side door and sets a plate in front of each of us, but the amount of food on my plate wouldn’t be enough to feed the pet rabbit I had as a little girl. The smallest side salad imaginable, a piece of steak not much bigger than a quarter, and two baby carrots.

What the fuck?

Why does my plate have such little food, and their plates are full of a big steak, a baked potato, grilled green beans, sauteed mushrooms, and a side salad twice the size of mine with carrots? Absolute horseshit if you ask me.

“What did you want from me in exchange for letting Nigel off the hook?” I ask, holding my head high.

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