Of course. He paced the floor. What if Matthew had been the one stealing all along? Maybe he thought he wouldn’t get caught—maybe even wanted to use Elena as bait to implicate Devon. That would mean he’d get rid of two birds with one stone. He’d get the CEO position and the shares, and get Devon out of the race, and even out of the office. Why did he need the dough? To pay for the shares. “And can we have access to my brother’s accounts?”
Silence.
“I’ll try. That will take a bit, but I’m on it. Anyone else you want me to check while I’m at it?”
Devon sucked in his breath. Palming the phone, he looked at it even though all he saw was the glint in her eyes earlier, when she accused him of being a gentleman.
He was no gentleman. He was a man who wanted something, and he was damn close to getting it. If he found out the thief, that would seal the deal regarding the CEO position. He’d be redeemed for the sex scandal involving Regina that had been plaguing Wilder & Co. in the last few months.
Protecting Elena from his suspicions entailed jeopardizing his work. And that he wasn’t willing to do. “My assistant. Elena Moretti. Check her accounts.”
“Got it.”
Devon hung up the phone and slid it into his pocket. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he strode back to the living area, where about a dozen guests mingled.
This whole thing was far too intimate. The suspicions of Elena having her eyes on his brother—and using him so she would get over her sexual hang-ups—weakened after the way she had looked at him earlier. Like she wanted him—and only him. She couldn’t be that great of an actress, could she?
Can I be that great of an actor?Devon rubbed his forehead. Honesty had been his thing from the beginning. Never had he said he wanted the white picket fence. Or two labs. He shook his head. Where did the stupid two dogs imagery come from? Maybe one day he could adopt a pit bull to take him on his morning runs. Labs were billboards for family pets.
Entering the living area, he avoided looking at her brothers, who were chatting about something with a couple of women. Of course they hated him. He represented the worst kind of boyfriend material. Who would want their little sister to be with a guy who had been pegged by the nation as a player? And why the hell did that matter? Smoothing his hand over his long-sleeved shirt, he cleared his throat. Maybe there was something in the water that just brought out his worst vulnerabilities—ones until today, he never even wasted time musing over.
Scanning the area, he searched for Elena like a dog sniffed the ground for a bone. A tall, blond guy standing against the windowsill was talking to her. She nodded, and though she had a smile on her face, her cheeks had gone white as paper.
He hadn’t minded sharing Regina. And even though he and Elena would part ways after sorting the mess, he didn’t want to think of any guy touching her. His heart skipped a beat as he erased the distance between them with a few powerful strides.
“Hey,” he said to her, ignoring the man in front of her.
Elena blushed, and her throat visibly worked. What the hell was happening? “Devon, this is Timothy. Timothy, meet—
“Timothy? Your ex-husband?” Devon cut her off, and a heat wave of anger built inside him.
“Yes,” she said.
Here was the man who had used her like a freaking semen deposit. And he’d hurt her physically, emotionally, and mentally. Devon’s blood pounded in his temples. His heart beat staccato, and when the man looked at him, as if about to size him up, he punched the motherfucker in the nose. The man fell back against a shelf, and a humming whisper spread around the living room. Everyone was silent, but a couple of guys who rushed to pick the guy up.
“What the fuck?” Raffaello, the one with dark eyes, said.
“What are you doing?” Emilio took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “You think you can just come here, and punch our friends?”
The reason why he clocked Timothy tingled at the tip of his tongue. But damn it, Devon knew if he said anything, he would compromise Elena. Whatever suspicions he may have had of her professionally, on a personal level he couldn’t do that to her. Didn’t want to, even if her family hated him forever. Or, he realized as the four men approached him, circling around him, even if he was about to get an epic beating. He was big and athletic, but taking five men of his size was no easy feat.
Timothy stood, and blood dribbled from his nose. A woman handed him a napkin and he pressed it against his face. His green eyes said nothing, and the way the contours of his face hardened, then softened had Devon thinking the bastard knew he deserved that punch. Sex addict or not, he didn’t have the right to use Elena the way he had. No one did.
“What is going on here?” Elena’s mother stepped in. “What just happened?”
Devon could feel all eyes on him. Nothing new. He was used to stares. Growing up he got them often, especially after he went to live with Imani and Matthew. He had always been the one who didn’t fit in. The scandal had reminded him of the stares. Didn’t matter if he was a über successful club owner, investor, and a marketing president. At times like this, the truth hit him like a whip.
“Devon meant well. He’s not the bad guy here,” Elena said, her voice surprisingly steady.
“No,” Timothy said, as he lowered the napkin and glanced at the red soaking the paper. “I am. I deserved that and way worse.” He looked Devon straight in the eye.
You bet you do, son of a bitch. Devon curled and uncurled his hands. His palm tingled for one more punch. Why was he getting so involved?
“Can someone explain to me what’s going on?” Elena’s mother asked.
Timothy looked around, and maybe most of those faces were people they all knew, since they probably belonged to the same circle. Was he going to own up to his mistakes like a man, or cower? “I guess I didn’t get help so I would lie about it. When I married Elena, I was a sex addict. I didn’t label it back then, but I put her through hell during our marriage. I’m sorry.”
Emilio shook his head. “What?”
