Once the door was closed, Peter picked up the wedding announcement again. There was only one person in the world that would dare put something like this in print without his explicit permission. His mother.
He’d deal with her later.
Letting the wedding announcement fall from his hand, Peter shot to his feet and sent his chair crashing back into the wall. He stormed around his desk, leaving the office and jogging toward the exercise room down the hall from the master bedroom. Stripping off his cashmere sweater, Peter hurriedly wrapped his knuckles and went to work on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Hit after hit, Peter attacked the bag with everything he had, grunting each time his padded knuckles made impact.
It wasn’t what he needed.
Peter had gone to bed the night before with the certainty that Merchant and Dawn would come through for him, and that he’d spend the day hunting down the people who had taken Chad. He’d distracted himself with sex when he woke up, knowing that Merchant would be by with his report at any minute, pushing down his rage and fury in front of Chad and telling himself that he only had to wait a little.
Except there would be no hunt. Peter didn’t have the expertise or connections to investigate Devlin’s potential employers himself, which meant that he had nothing to do except twiddle his thumbs until Merchant and Dawn came up with the answers he needed. Usually Peter didn’t mind outsourcing work that wasn’t his strong suit—his willingness to do so was one of the reasons he’d built such a successful operation—but for once he wished that his skill extended further than planning missions and executing them.
Peter was so caught up in his impotent fury, the sound of his fists hitting the bag in fierce competition with his ragged breathing, that when Chad walked into the room and tentatively touched his shoulder he rounded on the younger alpha and slammed him down on his back before he even knew what he was doing.
“Holy fuck,” Chad said after he caught his breath, staring up at Peter with wide eyes. He didn’t look scared or hurt, but Peter still felt horrible. He unwrapped his knuckles and reached out his hand to help Chad back up.
“Sorry,” he said, wincing at how inadequate that sounded. “You startled me.”
Chad shrugged, giving Peter a critical once-over. Peter was still breathing hard, and it rankled to have Chad see him this upset and out of control. He made an effort to pull himself together, forcing his breathing to slow even though it was uncomfortable.
“Yeah, I can see that. Sorry. I take it Merchant didn’t have good news?” It was obvious that Chad already knew the answer to his question.
“No news, more like it. They didn’t find anything,” Peter said. “We have no idea what they were after.”
“That sucks,” Chad said, biting his lip and looking tense.
Peter nodded, baring his teeth in an unhappy grin of agreement. “It does.”
There was an awkward pause where Peter and Chad just stood there, looking past each other.
“Well, breakfast is here,” Chad said after a while, biting his lip again. “If you’re hungry, that is.”
Peter didn’t feel particularly hungry, but he knew that he had to eat.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
Peter walked out of the room, Chad falling into step next to him, neither of them looking at each other or saying a word.
Peter wondered how he was supposed to get through the day.
***
