“There’s a gentleman here to see you,” she says before leaning into the space between us and dropping her tone. “It’s that douchebag Millie Blackwell was going to marry—Alex. Albert?”
Feeling the back of my neck go tight, I shoot a glare past her. “Allister.”
“Yeah—him.” When I say his name, her mouth curls in distaste. “Should I tell him you’re?—”
“Why don’t you go grab some lunch,” I say, offering her a flat smile. “Use the company card—I’ll text you when it’s okay to come back.”
“No.” Shaking her head emphatically, Natalia’s eyes go wide like I just told her to do a backflip off the Brooklyn Bridge. “I don’t think?—”
“Send him in on your way out,” I interrupt her, mid-protest. When it becomes obvious that I have no intention of relenting, Natalia sighs.
“Okay… well, for the record, I don’t mind being an accessory to murder when it involves lying, cheating assholes,” she tells me before straightening herself. “I’m going to Barney’s. You want your usual?”
“Sure.” My usual is a pastrami on rye with extra dressingand a side of potato salad. Rather than tell her I’ll more than likely have committed murder and will be fleeing the country before she gets back with my sandwich, I give her another flat smile. “But don’t come back until I tell you to.”
“Okay.” She flashes me a bright smile that I’ve come to recognize as herI hear you but I’m not listeningsmile before disappearing from the doorway.
“Natalia,” I call after her but she ignores me. Outside my open office door, I hear her desk drawer open and slam shut, followed by a few words murmured in a terse tone. As soon as I hear the frosted glass in the outer office door rattle in its frame when she leaves, Allister strides into my office like he owns the place. He looks terrible. Rumpled suit. Disheveled hair. In desperate need of a shave. Nothing like the man I’ve come to know and despise over the last couple of years.
“You look like shit,” I tell him. “I can’t tell you how happy that makes me—Paige dump you yet?”
“Fuck you, Mercer,” he practically snarls, stopping in front of my desk to glare down at me.
“I bet she did,” I say, sitting back in my seat with a shitty grin. “I bet she quit taking your callsmonthsago, didn’t she?”
He drops his gaze to the Rolex strapped to my arm before bouncing it up to meet mine on a nasty grin of his own. “Nice watch.”
“This ol’ thing?” I lift my arm and flash my wrist, struggling to keep my tone as flat and indifferent as possible “You like it? It was supposed to be your wedding gift.” Deciding that getting this over with as soon as possible is the safest course of action for everyone, I don’t give him a chance to respond. “What the fuck do you want, Allister?”
“What do I want?” he parrots back, volume rising to a near shout. “I want to know where you got it—that’s what I want.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him, sittingback in my seat on a sigh. Looking up at him, I give him an apathetic shrug while he practically foams at the mouth. “Got what?”
“You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you?” he sneers at me. “Paige told me all about you—how obsessed you’ve been with Millie since that weekend in the Hamptons. How you’ve been following her around like a stray dog for the last two years.” Now he laughs at me and it takes everything I have to not lunge at him and break his fucking neck. “I bet knowing I’m the one who fucked her first eats you alive, doesn’t it?”
“It probably would if I didn’t know how utterly abysmal you are in bed,” I reply, the muscle in my jaw flexing so hard I can hear the click of it in my ears. “As it stands, I can’t say it bothers me all that much. I’m just glad Mills figured out what a complete piece of shit you are before she made the mistake of marrying you.”
“Why?” He laughs, still glaring down at me. “Like you ever had a chance with her? Millie’s not just a Blackwell—she’stheBlackwell. Preston Blackwell’s eldest child. Heir to the throne—do youreallythink a guy like you would ever be good enough?” He leans into the space between us, a nasty grin smeared across his face. “Get real. Not even turning her into your whore could fix that.”
Shooting forward in my seat on a snarl of my own, I wrap my hand around his tie and give it a vicious jerk, slamming his head into my desk, his nose exploding in a spray of blood across my blotter. Letting him go, I watch while Allister crumples to the floor on the other side of it. Standing up, I round my desk to find him sprawled across my office floor, out cold, leaking blood all over the brand-new carpet.
Shit.
There goes my deposit.
Hunkering down next to him, I give him a dispassionateonce over, before I reach down and give him a stinging slap against his blood-smeared cheek. “Wake the fuck up,” I say, giving him another hard smack that brings him to. “Ope—there he is.”
“You broke my nose,” he says groggily, his gaze, swimming in and out of focus. “You?—”
“Be grateful it wasn’t your goddamned neck,” I tell him quietly. “Now I need you to shut the fuck up and listen, Al—because this is important.” Leaning over him, I grip my hand around his jaw and squeeze hard enough to nearly pop his eyes out of their sockets. “If you ever so much asthinkabout disparaging Millie’s name or character again, I’ll kill you.” I say it quietly, my tone heavy with promise. “I’ll find you and drag you from whatever rock you’re hiding under, andI will end your fucking life—do you understand?”
“You broke my nose,” he says it again, still stunned that the situation has taken such an abrupt turn. “I’m gonna?—”
“Call the cops? That’s fine—go ahead.” Letting go of his face, I grip his tie for the second time, jerking him into a half sitting position before I slap him across the face again, this time hard enough to rattle his teeth. “But right now, I need you to focus, dipshit—do you understand?”
“Yes.” Eyes wide, Allister looks up at me, his expression caught somewhere between panic and disbelief. “I understand.”
“I’m unconvinced,” I tell him, pushing the words through clenched teeth. “Repeat it back.”
