“I’ll see you again soon, Raina.” Jeremy backs away as he waves goodbye, then rushes down the front steps of the mansion.
The four of us watch in disbelief as he crosses the parking lot and climbs into his car, a black sedan with tinted windows. I can’t see Jeremy’s face once he’s behind the wheel, but I can feel his eyes on me. My knees buckle, and Alex holds me up.
“You’re okay,” he tells me. “You’re going to be okay.”
“No, I won’t,” I reply with a trembling voice. “Alex, he knows where I work.”
Max frowns as he shuts the front door behind him, then locks it. “You said it yourself: You’re the head chef. It’s a prestigious position, regardless of our business profile.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Jeremy can still use it against me.”
And if Jeremy wants to hurt me, he’ll find a way to turn this whole situation into a veritable shitstorm. I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. I feel anger and despair gnawing at my resolve.
What will Jeremy do next?
11
VINCENT
It’s my turn to stop by the Portland office the next morning. My head’s not in it, though. Deanna’s jabs, and now this Jeremy prick coming around has done a number on Raina, and she doesn’t deserve any of it.
She was always a good girl, and I’ve loved every second of ruining her, of owning her, of claiming her—but only because, at the end of the day, every second has been a privilege, a chance to worship her, to possess her, to keep her close and safe. Tonight, it all ends.
I walk past our secretary with grunt of acknowledgment.
“Mr. Manning, excuse me,” Sarah says, stopping me in my tracks just as I’m about to go into our joint office. “There’s someone in there.”
Slowly, with one hand on the doorknob, I turn my head to look at her. “Go on.”
“He said you had an appointment this morning,” she replies. “A lawyer from Bancroft & Partners, I believe?”
My mind makes the quick connection to last night, causing a spike in my blood pressure. Rage quickly reddens my field of vision.
“I see. Thank you, Sarah. I’ll handle it.”
We were always the bad-boy-biker-renegade types. The world of business quivered when we waltzed into the market with our custom shops and private lounges. Then came Haus of Sin and a slew of other private and insanely profitable ventures that made our stock ridiculously valuable and profitable. But our staff always knew the main and most important rule: Don’t piss us off.
Yet as I walk into my office and find Jeremy standing by the window, I conclude that he’s just itching to piss me off. He has no idea how badly this will end for him.
“Mr. Manning,” he says, wearing a clean grey suit. His blonde hair is slicked back; his blue eyes are sharp. “Thank you for meeting me.”
“I didn’t seem to have a choice in the matter,” I reply. “What do you want?”
“We got off on the wrong foot last night. I had to come up here this morning and make things right. Please accept my apologies. I was out of line and inexcusably rude.”
“What am I supposed to do with that, exactly?”
Jeremy offers me his business card. I take it and carefully analyze it. It says, “Jeremy Copeland. Senior Associate with Bancroft & Associates.” Ah, I see where this is going. Bill Bancroft gave me the lowdown over coffee earlier this morning, after repeatedly emphasizing that Jeremy can never know that Bill’s a Haus client himself. I assured him of our policy of extreme discretion, of course.
Plus, our security team already has Jeremy’s photo to make sure he stays off the premises going forward. Nevertheless, something feels off, so I’m compelled to hear what he has to say. I know he’s itching to say something.
“Again, please accept my apology, first and foremost,” Jeremy says. “Then perhaps give me a chance to make it up to you. Can I buy you a coffee? There’s a lovely French café across the street.”
“Or you could just tell me what you want. I’m a busy man with no time for a coffee break,” I bluntly tell him.
“Sure.” He chuckles. “I understand you already have legal representation, but I was wondering if you’d ever considered changing. Bancroft & Associates is a far superior firm. We’ve got one hell of a corporate team, and our fees are nearly half of what you’re currently being charged.”
I cock my head to the side, suddenly fascinated. “How do you know how much we’re being charged?”
