Page 136 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes
I clench my jaw so hard my molars grind together.
"Full workup. Now."
"Already in motion."
I kill the call before he can say anything else.
I don’t waste time with anger. Anger clouds judgment.
I flip open the secured dashboard on my phone, scanning the flagged activity reports. Small things at first—background check inquiries, low-level data pulls, subtle enough not to trip alarms unless you knew what you were looking for. But now, there’s no mistaking it. The attempts are bolder. Sloppier. Someone is getting desperate.
And there’s only one person petty enough, and arrogant enough to try and mess with what’s mine.
Dom.
By the time I pull into the garage of my building, I already have a trace locked. VPNs routed through half a dozen countries. Shell corporations. Masked IPs. Amateurs would have missed it. But Dom trained under me.
He thinks he’s smarter than he is. He should know better.
Or maybe he wasn’t trying to hide at all. Maybe he wanted me to find him.
The thought pisses me off even more. It’s a power play. A message.
I make a call I know I shouldn't. The smart move would be to wait. Bring backup. Plan the approach the way I plan everything else. But when it comes to Genevieve, logic doesn't always win.
He answers on the second ring.
"Well, that was fast," Dom says, his tone smug. "Guess you saw the trail I left."
"Meet me," I say, voice cold. "You know where."
Another man might hesitate. Dom doesn’t. His ego won’t let him.
"On my way," he says, and hangs up.
The meeting spot is neutral—an abandoned construction site on the edge of the city, a project Dom and I once shut down together when it became more trouble than it was worth.
He’s already there when I pull in, leaning against his car, arms crossed, looking for all the world like he’s still in control of the situation.
He’s not.
I step out, shutting the door behind me with a deliberate click, and walk toward him.
Dom pushes off the car and meets me halfway. No words at first. Just two predators circling, measuring.
"You’ve gotten sloppy," I say quietly.
He snorts. "I’m not the one letting some girl lead me around by the dick."
I smile, slow and humorless. "You still think this is about you. That I need your approval."
Dom’s mouth tightens. "You needed someone to protect you from yourself. From people like her."
The fury pulses just under my skin, sharp and dangerous. But I hold it. Barely.
"You don't get to decide who’s a threat to me," I say, voice low and razor-sharp. "You don’t get to decide anything anymore."
"You’re blind," he says, shaking his head. "You’re so wrapped up in whatever fantasy you’ve built with her that you can't even see it. She’s using you. All of you."
