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“Just for an hour or two,” Clara pleaded, her begging eyes adding to the strength of her plea.
I acted disappointed before nodding. I’m not going to lie. A shit-eating grin etched on my face when I saw a petrified mask slip over Charity’s face as Clara led her to my rooftop garden. Although I’ll be kissing Charity’s ass for the next six months, it will be worth it. The instant I discovered who the owner of the steel gray Audi was, there was no chance of ignoring my naturally ingrained protectiveness of Clara. And since she had a nightmare last night, I didn’t want to leave her alone. Hence Charity’s sudden desire for girl talk.
A pretty receptionist with unique yellowish-brown eyes greets me with a smile when I saunter deeper into the foyer of Destiny Records. She has a tight, fit body, luscious caramel skin, and dark, rich hair.
“Hello. Welcome to Destiny Records. How can I help you?” she greets me, her voice as absorbing as her eyes.
“I need to speak to Cormack McGregor.”
The receptionist’s eyes widen before she curtly nods. “I’ll see if he’s available.”
She lifts the receiver of her phone to her ear as my eyes run around the space. Destiny Records’ headquarters is an architectural wonder with large glass paneling and expensive features. The floors are inlaid with reclaimed wood, and I’ve spotted numerous expensive paintings lining the walls. The premise screams wealth.
Wealth Clara’s brother is keeping to his greedy self.
My eyes return to the receptionist when she says, “I’m sorry, Mr. …”
“Anderson,” I fill in.
She smiles. “Anderson. Mr. McGregor is unavailable to speak with you at this time. If you’d like to make an appointment, I can check his calendar, or if you want to leave a CD, I can forward it to the creative artist team.”
“I’m not a musician,” I interrupt. “I’m here regarding his sister.”
The receptionist’s eyes bug. “Okay,” she replies softly before lifting the receiver back to her ear. Her eyes shift between her desk and me as she speaks in hushed whispers. “I understand,” she replies before disconnecting the call. “Is this regarding Cate or Clara?”
I arch my brow. “Does it fucking matter?”
She balks, shocked by my foul language. “Not to me, but to Mr. McGregor it does,” she replies, her lips quivering.
Blood roars through my veins, thick and fast. Ignoring the security officer standing at the door of Destiny Records, I make my way down the corridor hidden behind the reception desk. The receptionist calls out for me, but I can’t hear a word she’s saying, too blinded by rage to hear anything.
My long strides have me walking the length of the hallway in two heart-thrashing seconds. I’m not at all surprised to spot a gold plaque with the nameCormack McGregoron a wide wooden door at the end of the hall.
The important people always make you come to them.
I swing open the door with brutal force at the same moment my shoulder is seized by a burly-looking security officer.
“You either leave of your own accord, or I’ll throw your ass onto the curb.”
“You have two seconds to get your hands off me before I show you that bad genetics won’t be the cause of your ugliness. My fists willbe.”
Our little tousle is interrupted by a deep voice inside the office. “Let him in, Pablo.”
The security officer loosens his grip on my shoulder, but he doesn’t entirely remove his hand. I arch my brow and glare into his eyes. My stare is dark and brimmed with danger. When Pablo lifts his hand and takes a retreating step, I swing my eyes to my right. I don’t need to see his identification to know the gentleman standing in front of me is Cormack McGregor. He’s the spitting image of Clara, just a manlier version. Same wintry-blue eyes, same defined facial features, and same platinum-blond hair.
“When you look in the mirror every morning, do you feel remorse? Or are you too busy counting your millions to be worried about the safety of your little sister?”
Cormack cops my snide comment on the chin before gesturing for me to enter. I walk three steps into the room before stopping and crossing my arms in front of my chest.I didn’t come here to drink tea and eat cucumber sandwiches.
“You have enough money that you can put a tail on your sister, but you don’t care enough about her to make sure she’s safe and well.”
Cormack smiles. It is a pained and bitter smile. “I didn’t put a tail on Clara. The men are there to ensure she is safe. I’m not a monster, Brax. I didn’t send her out into the world completely alone.”
I suck in a deep breath, surprised he knows my name, but my shock isn’t great enough to leash my anger. “You’re not a fucking monster? You’re sitting in an overpriced leather chair in an office the size of most people’s apartments while your little sister works at a tattoo parlor for minimum wage. You’ve got a fancy-ass mansion with a butler and a handful of maids while your sister is living in an apartment which is about as fancy as a crack house.Your security team is getting around in a brand spanking new Audi for fuck’s sake while your sister is driving a piece-of-shit car that is older than she is.”
He attempts to interrupt me, but I continue speaking, foiling his attempts, “And while you’re out eating meals worth hundreds of dollars a plate, your sister is getting jumped in a fucking alley by men wielding guns. Yeah, I guess you’re right. That doesn’t sound like a monster to me. It sounds like a coward.”
Cormack balks as his face goes ashen. “Clara was mugged?”