Page 57

OPHELIA

A month ago, I had no direction in life.

I knew I had to do something with myself. Be something. Become someone.

Have a family someday in the future.

Maybe find a boyfriend who didn’t shut me out and refuse to fuck me.

No, that wasn’t what I was really after.

Settling for scraps and selling myself short. That’s what I was all about.

I fought so hard to get the old Topher back because once upon a time, he’d made me believe that he’d seen the real me. He’d lied to me. Tricked me into believing that he liked what was underneath.

He sold me a lie.

For a brief moment in time, I thought I could love him.

I never did.

For many reasons.

The main one being that I never belonged to him in the first place.

I realize it now as I’m standing next to James in the elevator that takes us to his office. The man I love. The man I breathe for.

The man I’ll kill for.

Killed for.

As if sensing my thoughts, James glances at me. His cold eyes send chills down my spine. They remind me of the icy night yesterday when we killed Oliver.

After we covered his floor with a tarp and chopped Oliver to pieces, he dressed me in warm clothes.

Together, we went to the backyard. We set up a bonfire and turned flesh into ashes.

Where the ground accepted Oliver’s bones and his phone, once I deleted his GPS history and smashed the stupid device.

Then James, my hero, went to Oliver’s Mercedes and deleted it from there too. He doused it in gasoline, set it on fire. The armchair and our clothes too. Not before James memorized every blood spatter on my face, my neck, my dress. He licked his lips.

We buried all the burnt evidence before we went to bed.

“Miss Monroe.” He cocks an eyebrow.

Right.

We’re headed to work. I’m dressed for my first day at the law firm. Black skirt, a matching jacket and a cream-colored silk blouse beneath. Sheathed in a black pea coat drapes over my body. My legs are covered in black tights.

It’s nothing compared to James’s. My God. He’s handsome at home, with his scruff and lounge clothes. He’s just as breathtaking in a black wool coat, a dark gray suit, a stark white shirt, and his shaved jaw.

The sheer power of him. Scary and formidable and fuck, I’m wet between my thighs.

“Ophelia.”

I clasp my hands together in front of me, interlacing my fingers. It’s not a good look to shudder on your first day in a new workplace.

My old workplace, Laurier’s, knows I’m not coming back. James had someone call to pass along my formal resignation while I was in the cell. I also found out that he passed a message to Sage the night he bought me. It was time for her to find a new roommate.

I don’t think she would’ve gone up against him. I don’t blame her for it. She did her best without putting her life at risk. Fucking with James isn’t wise; I’m well aware of that now.

He warned her against it, regardless. My man who leaves nothing to chance.

“Yes?”

“Remember what we talked about back home?”

It’s just the two of us in the elevator. The higher we go, the more people have filtered out. We’re about to reach the top floor. His employees should be swarming the office.. Usually, he comes in early, before anyone else.

Today, he’s making an entrance.

We’re making an entrance.

Holy shit. I really need to stop shivering.

“I remember.” Two floors to go. My heart is racing. “Chin high. Shoulders back. No one belongs here more than I do.”

“And?” His gaze is an iceberg, yet I see the warmth in it. He’s bathing me in affection. “What else?”

“Properties aren’t allowed to leave their owner’s side,” I whisper. Heat scalds my cheeks. I’ll never tire of how hot it is when he degrades me. “Wherever my owner goes, I follow.”

He makes a low sound of approval in the back of his throat. Rests his tattooed hand on my chignon that’s twisted at my nape.

One second and his touch is gone.

Three.

Two.

One.

The elevator door slides open.

Light floods in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun shining through the thick December clouds. There are so many people here. I never imagined it’d be so crowded.

They’re on their phones. Men and women in suits pace the halls.

Some sit in meetings inside glass offices.

One of the men is right here, leaning over the front desk, talking to the auburn-haired receptionist.

Terror clutches at my chest, numbing me, and it has nothing to do with any of them.

When Topher finds out I’m here, there’ll be hell to pay. He’ll shout. Throw a tantrum like he did when he showed up at our home. Everyone on the floor will whisper and point fingers at me.

There’s no telling what poison he’ll feed them before James kills him.

Then I remember why I’m here before Camden and Topher are taken care of.

A show of power. Of James’s power.

He wants me here. He thinks I belong, truly. He wants them to know that if anyone takes Topher’s side, they’ll be fired on the spot.

It’s essential that I remember that.

One day, I’ll be an equal partner at James’s side. Or we’ll shut this place down for good and move away.

Whatever we decide, that’s where I’ll be. That’s my destiny.

Our destiny.

I won’t cower or freak out about what anyone has to say about me.

Chin up. Shoulders pulled back.

No one belongs here more than I do.

“After you, Miss Monroe.”

I feel the ghost of his hand on the small of my back. It’s then that I forget about the nerves and how my stomach swoops and my heart gallops.

The first step is always the hardest one. I learned that in every new foster home I walked into.

The uncertainty is usually worse than whatever’s out there.

Here we go.

My heel hits the slate-gray granite floor. The other one. I have this.

James is right by my side. I don’t need to see him to know he’s there. His dominant energy is an unavoidable force.

The receptionist, in a deep blue blazer, twists her head to look at him as we approach. The man who’s been talking to her blanches and disappears without a word.

“Mr. Hawthorne.” Her green eyes are set on him, her expression professional. She doesn’t have a crush on my man. But she is stunning. Jealousy heats my neck. “Good morning. How are you today?”

“Good. Elodie.” The way he says her name isn’t warm or inviting.

It isn’t cold like he says mine sometimes.

His tone is flat, and I like it. I like it a lot.

“This is Ophelia—” He pauses, and my pulse skyrockets at the implication.

How he almost called me Ophelia Hawthorne.

Soon, I’ll be his wife. “Monroe. Miss Monroe will be working closely with me starting today.”

“I’m Elodie. Welcome to Hawthorne Morgan, Miss Monroe.

” Her smile is brilliant, her teeth as perfect as everything about her.

She doesn’t ask in what capacity I’ll be working here, doesn’t look at me funny.

No. She offers me her hand, and I shake it.

“You’ve come to the right place. I wish you the best of luck here. ”

“Thank you.” My hand is at my side again. “Great meeting you too. I’m excited.”

“Should I show her to HR and start her processing?” Elodie is polite, her gaze switching between us. We’re going to get along, she and I. “I can call Winslet to cover for me for a little while. She has some free time.”

Oliver’s assistant. James made me memorize everyone’s names. Everyone who matters.

“Free time?” His eyebrows lower. We discussed faking concern when we arrived. I had no idea he’d sell it so well. “Oliver hasn’t arrived yet? Is he due in court today?”

“I don’t believe he is.” Elodie looks at me pointedly before turning to James. He nods. She can talk about office matters around me. “Winslet said he stayed here after she left the night before. We aren’t sure where he went after that. His calendar is empty.”

A victorious smile threatens to tear my face. I press my lips, mimicking James’s frown.

“Since then, nothing,” she continues. “His phone has been turned off. Camden hasn’t seen him at their home, either. He said his father might have some, um…private affairs. He’ll try his phone or drop by his place again later.”

“I’ll try him too once I get to the office.” James beckons me to walk ahead of him. I take a step forward. Stop. Wait for him to finish his conversation. “If you hear from him, please let me know. And don’t worry about HR. I’ll show Miss Monroe the office and to the HR processing.”

“Of course, Mr. Hawthorne.” Her voice is already fading as James and I head over toward his corner office.

Heads turn our way from the hallway. The coffee station. The cubicles and offices.

At that, I let a small smile slip. Everyone’s watching. Everyone sees me at his side. They can tell I mean something to him.

I don’t care about prestige or making a name for myself.

I care about being his.

This is as close as I get to licking him in front of the entire world and calling him mine.

Maybe one day.

It seems like I’m the only one who notices them. Not James. No one is worth his time. He guides me forward, just the two of us. His gait is long and confident. My heels clink louder the quieter it becomes.

“The open door to the corner office,” he says in a low voice, meant for me and no one else. “That’s me.”

“Don’t you mean us ?”

He gives me a side-eye. It’s both a yes and a you’re being a brat. I’ll spank you for it later .

We’re twenty feet from reaching his office. Andrea, his brunette assistant, sits up straighter. Ready to welcome us. He hasn’t told anyone that I would be here. Maybe she thinks I’m a client. Probably.

I can’t wait for him to introduce me as his…

Employee.

We’re still walking when the joy bubbling in my stomach is overshadowed by a strange feeling. We’re being watched. Maybe by Topher.

Except he isn’t here. I don’t see him. I sure don’t hear him.

It’s just the nerves creeping up on me again. Has to be it. My bladder is acting up too. I didn’t need to go a second ago. I do now.

Yeah, definitely my nerves going wild.