Page 70 of Beautiful Revenge
“I know how busy you are, which is why I’ll send you a bottle of bourbon to express my gratitude. Spill the details, Oz.”
“I wish I had something fun to report. I could tell from the way Bella explained it, you’re ready to snipe someone’s ass. From the looks of it, you’re going to have to find another outlet for your angsty tension. Roman Malloy lives in Stamford, Connecticut. He’s a mergers and acquisitions consultant for a firm in Manhattan. He rarely goes into the office. His credit cards indicate he works onsite with his clients about seventy percent of the time. The rest of the time he works from home.”
“Credit cards—plural?” I ask. “The one he used to check in here is the one I’m focused on. It hasn’t been used since my operation literally blew up in my fucking face. How did he get that card?”
“The account goes straight back to his contractor. From what I can tell, it has no ties to Turner or Fusion Logic. Hell, they’re not even in the same industry. But do you want to know what is interesting?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Why would you even ask me that?”
“There’s no history on that card, Dev. I know what you’re looking for. I dug deep to make sure. It’s a newly issued card on a new account. If there were a history with any credit bureau, I’d find it. That’s elementary investigation compared to what I do before whipping up my protein shake most days.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “There has to be a connection. With Turner’s capabilities, I’m sure he wiped the history clean.”
“I dug into their company when I got to the control room this morning. I didn’t have much time since you decided torise before the sun to demand answers. If you give me some time, I’ll keep looking.”
“It’s connected, Oz. I know it.” A notification comes across my laptop. To say I have a feel of the pulse of the manor is like stating that the Pope is Catholic. Control is a habit as deeply rooted in me as breathing. It started in my prior career and has extended to my retirement gig, even down to the minute details like tennis lessons. I click on the notification as a fury builds in me that’s ten times worse than it was when I saw Malloy talking to Harlow at the pool yesterday. Like that, I’m sure this is no coincidence. “Fucking hell. Roman just booked himself a tennis lesson.”
“Is that bad?” Ozzy might know a lot, but he’s clueless about my new obsession.
“It’s interesting,” I offer and make an excuse to get off the phone. I need to get back to Harlow. “Do you have time to dig deeper into the card history? That’s not a new account number, and banks rarely reuse them.”
Ozzy lets out a sigh that tells me he’s had about enough philanthropic work when it comes to me. “You know I can’t turn down a challenge. If there’s something to find, I’ll find it.”
I click through the schedule for my tennis pro and keep talking. “Roman Malloy is up to something. I feel it.”
“Give me a day,” Ozzy says.
“Appreciate it. Talk soon.”
Ozzy hangs up, and I flip my laptop shut. I left Harlow hours ago. I’m sure she’s up by now.
She’s got an appointment with the tennis pro, which will happen over my dead body.
Harlow
Itighten my slicked-back pony and grab my tennis shoes. I didn’t bring my racket, so I’ll have to makedo with one of theirs. With the state of Grandma’s house and the agreement I entered into last night with a certain manor owner, I’ll be here longer than I thought.
Last night.
Damn.
The rash on my back and sensitive spot between my legs where I can still feel him are a constant reminder. I’ve never had sex against a wall, and I’ve certainly never had sex with anyone as large or as strong to be able to pull off such a move with little effort.
I’ll never forget how it felt. And when I climbed into his bed and rolled into his arms after he demanded I do so, I closed my eyes looking forward to it happening again and again and again.
The horrifying state of my grandmother’s house didn’t plague my brain.
But this morning, I opened my eyes to an empty bed with another note from my new lover. It was on the same stationary as the last one, tented, and resting on his pillow waiting for me.
Harlow,
Call me when you wake up. I had to get to my office to take care of some work. Order whatever you want from room service.
Devon
I didn’t call him when I woke up nor did I order room service. I would’ve done both, but I’m late.
I haven’t slept that many hours in a row since I was in the Maldives before I accidentally uncovered Albert’s plan. It seems I needed to be fucked against the wall to actually sleep through the night. Who knew?
