Page 28 of Wretched Heart
“Please, Maddie,” Hunter says. “I don’t know about you, but I’d like some breathing space before we have to deal with someone attempting to steal you back. Your phone could have a trace on it too.”
I’m not sure Hugo would dare, but I have to concedethat he’s unscrupulous enough to share the location of the Griffin brothers’ latest prize with someone who has a stake in this game we’re playing. I have no idea who that might be. Surely not Barrett, but the truth is, I don’t know who I’m dealing with at any level, and that includes the Griffins.
When I unlock my phone, Mace snatches it from my grasp. “You really don’t like me, do you?” I ask.
Reid turns to us. “Being rude is his default,” he explains. “But between you and me, I’d say you’re growing on him. Take it as a compliment.”
“Fuck off, Reid,” Mace mutters.
I don’t take it as a compliment at all. “Was I growing on him before or after he accused me of prostituting myself?”
“He didn’t say that. He wouldn’t dare,” Hunter says, his comment directed to his brother as much as it is to me. “Mace was just pointing out to your brother that that’s how your family have treated you.”
I’m not convinced. “He was happy enough to dress me like a whore this morning,” I remind him.
There isn’t an answer to that, nor is there an opportunity.
“Found the tracker,” Mace announces.
“Oh,” I say weakly. I would have assumed Hugo was too egocentric to find time in his day to follow my movements. I was always too terrified to rebel against the rules he set, and he knew it.
“Can you remove it?” asks Hunter.
“Already done,” Mace says, handing me back my cell phone with a broad smile that’s as ghoulish as he intends.
“Thank you, you’re a sweetie,” I say with an equally garish grin.
I glance at my cell and see a new message that’s arrivedin the last few minutes. It’s from Morgan Summerville. The title flares across the screen. ‘Don’t do this, Maddison.’
“News travels fast,” says Hunter with a note of curiosity.
“Morgan would have been the first person Hugo called,” I explain. “He’s not just our Chief Finance Officer. He’s the man my father appointed as my representative on the board, although it’s fair to say he makes sure my brother’s interests come first. Morgan has my voice.”
“Not for much longer,” Hunter says.
I wait, hoping he’ll say more. I want reassurances that the deal we’re brokering will give me the freedoms that have been denied to me all my life, but Hunter remains silent. I try to tell myself it’s because he can’t say more in front of Jake, but what if I’ve put my trust in the wrong man – again? A man who’s apparently contemplating killing my brother.
“Just so you know,” I tell Hunter. “If something were to happen to Hugo, Morgan would act as my niece’s representative on the board. Hugo has a similar codicil to my father. His death would effectively hand full control of the mill to Morgan.”
Hunter flexes his fingers as if recalling the feel of Hugo’s life in his hands. “Noted,” he says. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure power goes where it belongs.”
Again, he doesn’t specify where that shift of power would be directed, but it’s not too hard to figure it out. If the Griffins complete the takeover, the fate of the mill will be in their hands, as will mine. I shove my cell in my purse and face forward. My pulse races with fresh anxiety as I’m driven towards an unknown fate. Surely what’s to come can’t be as bad as my life with Hugo. Butnot as baddoesn’t mean good.
I take deep, steadying breaths and my chest heaves with the effort. That’s when I notice how my suit jacket has risen up. It no longer sits flush against my chest and I have a clear view of my lace-clad breasts that jiggle up and down with the motion of the car. And just as quickly, I’m aware of the two tall men sitting on either side of me.
When I glance up at Hunter, his eyes are slow to travel from my chest to my face. His moss-green eyes smolder and my cheeks scorch. My blush deepens for an entirely different reason when I turn to Mace. Of course he’s getting an eyeful too, although his look is more one of bemusement.
“Eyes front, Mace,” Hunter growls.
“Got work to do anyway,” he mutters, picking up his cell. “Thanks to you, the paperwork for this deal just got a whole lot messier.”
I force myself to relax in my seat. No matter what awaits me, Hunter promised he wouldn’t hurt me. And from what I’ve seen so far, that includes making sure no one else touches me either.
“I’ve been here before,” I say as we stand outside a single-story house that sprawls across lush landscaped gardens that extend as far as the eye can see.
The exterior of the property is red brick and timber, its angles modern and clean. It looks square from the outside, but the house is divided into four distinct wings with a central courtyard where the previous owner, a banker and his wife, held elaborate parties. It has none of the history of my father’s mansion, but that makes it all the more appealing.
We’re only a half hour’s drive from Brimstage, maybe alittle more to the paper mill. I can’t decide if the flutters in my stomach are yet more anxiety, or excitement. This could be my new home – my first without my father or brother monitoring my every move.
