Sponsor of the British Business Awards.
He was far younger than I’d expected. He couldn’t be much older than me.
“Blaidd Prothero,” I repeated, watching his lips spread—but not wide enough to smile.
It was smug. Satisfied.
And that wouldn’t do.
“The man who didn’t bother presenting the award at the BBA,” I continued lightly.“Rather unprofessional, no?”
I fluttered my lashes innocently, even as I wondered when the dickhead would finally get to the point.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, Ms Tolera,” he said, his voice deep and low.
The calm was a lie. His mouth had tightened, and the glass beneath his fingers looked like it might crack.
“Nor do I wish to,” I replied, reaching for my purse.
I stood to leave. With a flick of his wrist, his bodyguard stepped into my path.
“Sit down,” he said.“You’re done when I say you’re done.”
I glanced past the man, but no one would meet my eyes. I raised a hand to catch a waiter’s attention.
He froze.
Then he turned his back on me and ran.
He didn’t walk. He didn’t jog.
The man ran through the restaurant.
Prothero tapped his fingers against the table. What should have been a light sound felt like the steady drum of a death knell.
“How is your father doing,” he drawled,“since he lost his job? Terrible business, that.”
My head snapped back toward him—and I sat.
Without hesitation, I lifted my half-empty glass of water and threw it straight into his face.
One guard’s hand clamped down on my shoulder while the other rushed forward with napkins. I leaned back and watched shock twist into fury. He wiped his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw—slowly, methodically. When he was finished, he tossed the sodden napkin onto my plate.
I didn’t need confirmation.
He’d sent the card.
He’d fucked with my stock prices.
And he’d somehow gotten my father fired.
The only question was why.
And judging by the look in his eyes, that was exactly why he was here.
Instead of answering me, his glare snapped to his bodyguard.
“Get your fucking hand off her before I lob it off with a rusty axe,” he snarled, fine droplets of spit flying from his mouth.
