Page 11 of Ruthless Protector

“Here for an interview?”

I jerked my gaze to the guy dressed in a three-piece, dark navy Versace suit and realized he was talking to me. “An interview? No.”

“Oh, reporter then?” He glanced away. “We get plenty of those here, all jostling for that insight into the famous Mr. VanHalen.”

My stomach clenched with the words. An insight? I could give him the kind of insight that’d make his skin crawl…the kind of glimpse into the real life of Sebastian VanHalen that’d make him drop to his knees and throw up in the middle of this spotless elevator. Panic tried to push through the coldness inside me. But it couldn’t, not anymore. Instead, a cold sweat rose, making the skin on my arms crawl.

I looked away and focused on a spot in the corner.

“No, not a damn reporter,” I growled, watching the floor lights illuminate one by one as we rose higher.

“If not an interviewee or a reporter, then you must be visiting someone. A boyfriend, perhaps?” He glanced my way, only this time his stare lingered. “Or a husband?”

I have to get away…I have to get far away.Away from these people…away from him.

From the man who haunted my dreams…

And the white masks he wore.

“Yeah, a pretty little thing like you has to have a husband.”

“You know, you ask a lot of questions for someone I haven’t even met” I snapped as the elevator came to a shuddering stop on the top floor.

The doors opened and he stepped off, letting out a deep chuckle. “Haven’t met, huh?”

I didn’t have time to deal with this bullshit. The idiot didn’t take a hint.

“I’m Garth.” He shoved his hand out as I strode out of the elevator, hope burning in his eyes as the clatter of stiletto heels grew louder. “Garth Morgan.”

“Ms. VanHalen.” The shrill female voice made me wince.“Ms. VanHalen!”

I just stared at his hand, then met his gaze. “Like I said, someone I haven’t met.” Then I turned and walked away.

“Ms. VanHalen.” The poor bitch sent to find out why the fuck I had decided to come to this…this…glass tombafter eight years spoke again. “We weren’t expecting you.”

I reached up, grabbed my black clutch from under my arm, and strode forward, ignoring the bumbling bimbo next to me. My driver was illegally parked outside the building, but right in that moment…I didn’t give a damn. Not about anything…except...

My stomach gave a flutter. But that fear inside me pushed through, seeping through my veins, making that low part of me clench in fear. I tried to swallow the rancid tang in the back of my mouth, a remnant of the retching and heaving that had consumed me for the past two days. I swore I could still taste blood.

Fix it…fix it…fix it…

The words thrummed in my head as I strode toward my father’s office.

“Ms. VanHalen.” I flinched at the sound of her voice, having forgotten she was there. “I don’t think he’s in there.”

“Oh, he’s in there,” I corrected, and kept walking toward the wall of windows. My father’s empire was glass and steel. From all the way up here, you could see almost every inch of the city. He liked it…liked looking down…liked thinking he was God.

But he wasn’t a god. He was a pathetic, small fucking man, riddled with desire like it was cancer. The shit was killing him…and me with it.Blood bloomed in my mind. Blood and terror. My stomach clenched as I stepped into the stark, soulless fucking office. Heads turned my way, shocked expressions all over their faces.It’s her…what the fuck is she doing here?

I tore my gaze away as my father’s office loomed in the background, the silver door all sparkling and shiny, spotless.

“Katerina.” The woman behind the desk in front of my father’s office door rose.

I winced at the sound of my name, and anger rose.

“I’m sorry, if I’d known…” the brunette started. Panic filled her eyes as she realized I wasn’t stopping. She lifted her hand. “You can’t go in there…wait…Katerina, wait!”

“It’s Ms. VanHalen to you,” I snapped, shooting her a glare before I shoved the handle down on Daddy’s polished fucking office door and strode inside.

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