Page 59

JAMES

O phelia believes that my stalking days have ended once she became mine. Once the cell door closed in her face.

Once I transferred thirty million dollars to my own organization.

Wrong. I watch her closely when we’re together.

Nothing gets past me when it comes to her.

Including how long it takes her to get out of the bathroom.

By the time Andrea and I finished reviewing my notes, Ophelia should’ve been back.

The hallway was full of people who weren’t her.

Gray people in their bland clothes. Dull and boring.

I couldn’t find my dark queen anywhere. Couldn’t so much as sense her.

She. Should’ve. Been. Back.

Someone was holding her up.

Topher.

Having Andrea call his office to verify that he wasn’t there was pointless. Every second I wasted, was another one I wasn’t helping Ophelia.

She was strong and fierce.

But.

That goddamn but . It turned me into a destructive monster.

I could barge in. Except I’m a curious, jealous bastard who prefers to listen.

“…your father. A much better kisser. A better fuck than you could’ve ever been. Smarter, sharper, kinder. A better man in every sense of the word.”

Her words make the throbbing in my pants intolerable. Her determination. The fire in her.

She’s humiliating him.

I’m not about to sit this one out, to leave her alone with him.

I push down the handle and find the door locked.

He locked it.

I don’t think. Don’t breathe.

“Ophelia.” One hand slams on the door. “Let me in, or I’m breaking down the door.”

The only reason I’m not actually doing it is our location.

Damn you, Topher.

Twenty-one years ago, I watched him take his first breath. I meant to keep him. I meant to be the man my father never could be.

But I’ve failed him. He’s failed me as well.

Maybe he’ll have better luck joining his grandfather in hell.

“Ophelia, so help me, I will not ask you twice.”

The door flies open. My woman, my everything, is standing there. Tall and proud.

With red finger marks on her chin.

“I’m here. I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.” I grab her by the arm, shoving her behind me. Topher could be carrying a gun. Hiding a knife.

He saw the lock of her hair yesterday. He might’ve been planning to kill me.

I don’t care.

I’ll destroy him for this.

“Let’s get out of here.” She sounds confident, unharmed. Fuck that.

The motherfucking finger marks on her chin.

I step into the restroom, my free hand flipping the lock blindly.

“James, I mean it.” Her touch on my back doesn’t have its usual calming effect on me. The opposite. “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”

They can wait. The whole world can go up in flames. Ophelia was hurt. By my son. Who’s standing there, returning my furious gaze.

As if he has the right.

“Her chin.” I keep her close behind me, squeezing her hand as I move in on him. “You did this to her.”

“I’ll do much worse once you’re dead,” he spits out.

His empty threat is laughable. More so when he takes a cowardly step back toward the wall. Meaning he isn’t carrying anything that could do actual damage.

He had no intention of attacking me here.

“You’ll have to kill me first,” I warn. I skip the part where one of his accomplices is already dead. None of his business. “Son.”

Rage paints his face purple. His hand is on his pants pocket, over the outline of a rectangle—his phone.

“Call Camden. Go ahead, try killing me here. Now.” I jerk my chin back, gesturing to the office.

My hand clasps tighter around Ophelia. “See how fast everyone jumps ship. They’re loyal to Oliver and me first. Worse still, they’ll take photos.

Videos. You won’t be able to blackmail your way out of killing me here for no reason. ”

He considers this. I let him, reveling at how rattled he looks.

“This isn’t over, James.” That’s the first time he’s called me by my name. He won’t get to do that for much longer. “You’ll pay for this. I swear you will.”

Ophelia’s presence is hot on my back.

She hates him for the things he says. Infuriated by the idea of anyone hurting me.

I can’t stand the thought of anyone touching her just as bad if not worse.

It jars me how feral, how out of control I am when it comes to her.

Nothing to do but accept it, I guess. Worth it.

All of it.

Then…a foreboding feeling creeps up my spine.

Despite Ophelia’s show of strength, something’s up with her. I need her out of here. I need to hear what kind of filth he’s poisoned her mind with.

“Good luck taking me down.” I take a step forward. He shrinks into the wall. Jesus, I raised him fucking better. “Back to work. Don’t you dare go anywhere near Ophelia again, or it’ll be the last thing you do.”

I’m being a prick, pretending like his death sentence hasn’t already been given.

I haven’t stayed alive and thriving this long by playing by the rules.

“Get out.” I gesture to the door, guiding Ophelia back to the sink, still behind me. Still safe.

“Fine.” Topher rolls his eyes and storms out.

Once the door closes behind him, I turn to Ophelia. She gazes up at me, her wide dark eyes framed by dark eyeshadow and thick mascara. Exceptional. And alive.

Without the damn red marks that have faded while I put Topher in his place.

Focusing on work with her here will be challenging. Focusing on anything now is hell. I have to be inside her. Have to make her feel better.

After I understand what the hell is wrong with her. In my office. Not in the restroom, for crying out loud.

I place my hand on the small of her back and open the door for her. “After you.”

She nods. Quiet as she slides past me.

My pulse thunders between my ears.

I’ll fix this. I’ll always fix everything for her.

The walk to my office is uneventful. When we reach it, Andrea is busy on a phone call. Hardly notices us.

She won’t even hear or see us soon when we go into my office, where my soundproof walls will swallow up Ophelia’s screams.

I put my lips to Ophelia’s ear. “Go inside and wait for me behind my desk,” then, “Andrea.”

“Hold on, please,” she tells the person on the other line, clicking the hold button. “Yes, Mr. Hawthorne?”

“Miss Monroe”—it infuriates me that I can’t call her Mrs. Hawthorne yet—“and I have a business meeting that I can’t put off. Clear my schedule for the next hour and hold my calls.”

“Will do.” She jots my instructions on a piece of paper on her desk.

Suppressing a wicked smirk, I add, “Unless it’s Oliver. I’m starting to worry about him.”

Her expression clouds, brow furrowing. “Do you think we should involve the police? I can do that while you two are in your meeting.”

“Hmm.” I pause. I’m dying to see what’s bothering Ophelia. Fuck the fear out of her. But my performance has to be flawless. I have to appear as though I’m considering this. “Give it until the end of the day. We don’t want police officers barging in on him in an intimate moment.”

Oliver’s orgies are no secret around the office. His reputation serves me well today.

“Will do.” Her cheeks don’t flush. Professional to the bone.

I’m inside the office. Door closed. Lock flipped.

Ophelia waits for me behind the desk like she was told.

Manhattan’s view pales in comparison to my dark angel. Her expression is defiant. Lips pinched, chin up.

She needs me. The man to put her mind at ease.

The one to put her in her place.

“Bend over the desk,” I say, my tone bored.

I’ll never get over our games.

I’ll never stop getting hard from the shocked, humiliated expression on her face.

“We’re at work.” She sounds self-assured. Her hands are shaking, though. A slight tremble that gives her away. “We should be, you know, working.”

“We will.” Every step I take toward her has her lips pinching tighter. “After you bend the fuck over.”

“Why?” Flexing her fingers gets the shivers to stop. She pushes them to her hips. “I’m not ovulating”—she spits out the word—“today. You should save your sperm.”

I hope she’s ready for her punishment.

For talking back. For doubting me.

For letting an outsider put these ideas in her head.

Most of all, because she needs the pain to remember who she is.

I’ll always be there to attend to her needs.

I round the desk, standing behind her. I slide a hand beneath her chignon to curl my fingers around the nape of her neck. “I see what’s going on here.”

“Stop it,” she hisses.

“Like hell.” She puts up a fight when I bend her over the desk, cheek mashed into the expensive dark wood.

“You’re a bastard.” Her insult is swallowed up by the buzzing in my ears. By the sense of mission. By the determination that burns through me.

The need to slaughter Topher doesn’t help, either.

“James.”

“Shut up.” I pull her arms behind her back. My hand is a manacle around her wrists.

“I’ll scream.”

“Try that. Please do.”

She’s pliant beneath me, lets me thrust her hips into the desk, pin her there with my legs while I remove my tie.

“Scream, cry. I don’t give a fuck. I won’t stop punishing you.

The entire office could come walking through this door.

I’ll still have you like this. Bound. At my motherfucking mercy.

” My tie is around her wrists, locking them together.

My cock jerks at how beautiful she looks. “Until you remember who you belong to.”

“So you’re not denying it?” She raises her face from the desk. I shove it back down.

I wait to see what other bullshit I’m dealing with here. What I need to take care of as her owner.

“You won’t keep me after we’re done.” Her huff is full of agony. Her huff deepens my hatred for Topher. “You’re using me for sex. To fuck babies into me. Have a new family. Then you’ll send me away.”

No sobs from my woman. The hurt, however, is evident in her voice. In her desperation to hear how much I love her.

I’m trying to stay calm. Fuck, am I trying.

She’s gorgeous. She needs me to tell her once and for all that, no, I won’t send her away once she gives me a child. That, yes, she’s my entire universe.