Page 80 of Bite
The way Taylor’s blinking up at me with those doe-eyes helps, too. She’s so innocent, so utterly unaware of how close I am to choosing violence. It’s adorable.
Francesca lifts her tablet from the desk, swiping it open. Her posture is rigid, every muscle perfectly controlled as she taps the screen with a manicured nail. “There must be some kind of error,” she murmurs, employing the kind of tone intended to soothe a client while burying the truth beneath good manners.
Taylor frowns, glancing between the two of us. “What’s going on? Aren’t check-ins part of the contract?”
“They were,” Fran replies absently, still tapping on her screen. “But once your profile was purged from the servers…”
“Purged?” Taylor echoes, whole body going tight. “Why?”
“Boss’s orders,” Fran answers, eyes flicking to me.
Taylor whips her head around so fast she practically gives herself whiplash. Her eyes lock with mine, pupils dilating. “Boss?” she chokes, jerking back a step like she’s been slapped. “Youownthis place?”
While I typically prefer to keep my business interests private, denying it at this stage would be pointless. After a beat of silence in which I briefly consider snapping Fran’s neck, I give Taylor a single nod of confirmation.
Her breath hitches. She averts her eyes, blinking hard as if to wash the shock away.
Francesca watches our interaction with morbid fascination, heels clipping against the marble as she rounds her desk to approach me.
Bold move, considering I’m toying with the idea of ending her life.
“I’m so sorry about this, James,” she says in a low voice, stepping in close and resting a hand on my forearm. It’s a gesture that’s meant to be comforting, but it reads as far too performative. Too familiar. “I’ll get to the bottom of this and ensure that it won’t happen again.”
The glare I give her is glacial– a silent but deadly warning.
She wisely heeds it, immediately releasing my arm and backing up, redirecting her attention to Taylor. “I truly apologize for the inconvenience, Miss Holt. You won’t be required to return here for the duration of your contract unless any concerns arise.”
Taylor stiffens. “And if they do?”
Fran steps toward her, employing the same hollowly comforting posture that failed on me. “Feel free to contact me directly,” she says with a soft smile. “James has the number for my private line, I’m sure he’d be happy to share it with you.”
“Of course,” I cut in, sidestepping to rest my palm firmly at the base of Taylor’s spine. “I believe that concludes our business here.”
Taylor doesn’t resist as I swiftly guide her out of the office, but she doesn’t meet my eyes, either. Her gaze stays fixed ahead, her movements stiff and jerky, like a bird unsure whether to take flight. She stays silent in the elevator, too, arms wrapped around herself, staring blankly at her reflection in the chrome walls.
When we reach the lobby, she quickens her pace, clearly trying to put distance between us. My stride is longer, so keeping up is effortless. I stay in step with her all the way to the black car idling at the curb.
She slides into the back seat and scoots as far as she can to the opposite side, pressing herself against the door. I get in after her, pop the button on my jacket, and nod to the driver. Taylor props an elbow on the window ledge, chin angled toward the glass. She then proceeds to spend the entire first block of the drive pretending I don’t exist.
I let her have the silence for as long as I can tolerate. About forty more seconds, at best.
“You seem upset,” I remark.
Her reflection flickers in the window; a tight-lipped ghost of a smile. “Do I?”
“You’re practically vibrating with it, darling.”
She huffs out a breath, folding her arms. “Maybe it’s the revelation that you’re not only my employer by contract, but also the owner of the company that sold me in the first place,” she mutters bitterly. “And now you’ve purged me from their records so you can do whatever you want with me, up to and including making me disappear without a trace.”
“Your records were purged for your own safety,” I bite out, sharper than intended.
She scoffs, still staring out the window, still refusing to look at me. “My safety fromwho? Because as far as I can tell, the only one I’m in danger of being hurt by isyou. You’ve been manipulating me this entire time.”
“Taylor.” Her name leaves my mouth as a warning, low and edged.
She doesn’t back down, but she does finally turn to meet my gaze, hazel eyes glassy and fierce. “You could have told me,” she hisses. “You could have mentioned it at any point. Instead, you just let me walk in there like an idiot.”
I resist the urge to reach for her, my hands tightening into fists atop my thighs. “I didn’t think my business interests were relevant to our arrangement,” I reply calmly.
