Page 13 of Promise of Destruction (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #1)

thirteen

Declan

Moni never fails to disappoint me. She’s about the only woman in the world—maybe the only person —who has never let me down. When I called her just after midnight and requested her services, she pulled through.

She pulled through in a major way.

It’s nearly impossible to tell that twelve hours ago this office was an entirely different space.

I tasked her with getting everything ready for our takeover—switching out the décor and evaluating the staff portfolios to determine who we would retain.

The only person I didn’t let her make a decision about was Soren Palmer, of course.

I noticed her car was absent when I pulled in, so I took the spot closest to the elevator and sat in idle for a few moments, waiting to see if she showed.

When she did, she nearly rear-ended me before realizing I was there, and after a moment of confusion, she turned down the aisle and parked near the back of the level.

She didn’t notice me in my car—in fact, she was so busy walking slowly enough that she didn’t trip that I almost felt bad.

Then again, the view of her thighs as her purse caused her dress to ride up erased all of that potential guilt.

No, it’s hard to feel bad when she’s clearly a masochist. In fact, knowing that she must enjoy the pain, watching her teeter in those stilettos actually had my cock tightening in my slacks.

Once she disappeared into the elevator, I slipped out of my car and followed her, taking note of the directory listing, which had been freshly printed on cardstock above the buttons.

I wonder if Soren took note of the change on her way up and think maybe I should have followed her more closely.

That thought evaporated when I rounded the corner in time to see her walk back through the front door and stare in disbelief as she read the name etched into the door.

Like I said, Moni never disappoints. How the hell she found anyone capable of etching the glass in a few hours’ notice, I can’t guess, but she’s learned to be resourceful.

Soren is so caught up in her disbelief that she doesn’t notice me until she’s backed up against me.

With those heels, her ass is at the perfect level, so that when she steps into my path I wonder if she notices I’m hard—that I’ve been hard since the moment I decided to destroy her.

Maybe so, because her entire body tenses, and when she turns around to look up at me, her eyes are full of shock.

I can see the fight or flight reflex kicking into action, so I steady her with a hand on her arm and flash a smile.

“Are you alright?” I ask, feigning innocence.

For my part, the staff that see us will probably think we’re just getting acquainted, exchanging awkward small talk.

But somehow Soren knows better.

Her fear sends a thrill through me that goes straight to my balls, so I take a moment to commit her to memory like this—strands of hair falling tastefully into her face like she worked hard to appear perfectly undone, dark lashes blinking over eyes like a summer storm.

They’re a curious combination of colors, brown and green and blue all at once.

Standing right in front of her, now I can see the extent of her brokenness—sharp angles and harsh shadows, expertly hidden by makeup that hints to some kind of artistic ability.

She can’t hide the dark circles under her eyes, though, and I fight back a smile as I imagine her sitting up all night replaying our encounter through the bathroom window.

Fuck, she’s perfection .

“I…” Her painted lips fall open and I push away the thoughts of what I am going to do to them. “I don’t…” She turns around, twisting her upper body to look into the office behind her. “I’m confused.” She confesses.

“Do you work here?” I ask with the air of seriousness. I’ve long-since perfected my poker face, and it comes in handy more often than not.

She doesn’t answer me, but her eyes search my face instead for answers to the questions she can’t even gather up.

Funny that she came at me guns blazing in her article, but both times we’ve been in the room together, she’s backed down.

Soren Palmer apparently talks a big game, and I’m intent on finding out if she can back it up.

So far, it’s not looking promising for her.

“If you work here, you’re late.” I tip my head toward the door behind her, indicating for her to go inside. But she doesn’t move.

“What are you doing here?”

“At my company?” I laugh. “I’m trying to get inside so that I can call a staff meeting. What do you say? Wanna… step inside?”

Her eyes don’t leave mine as she crosses her arms and takes a small step aside, pulling out from under my touch. She worries her lip as if she’s trying to hold something back but then decides to let it go in a rush.

“I know what you did.”

I suppress the smile that wants to creep across my face and feign ignorance again. “What did I do?”

She lifts her chin to the side but says nothing, crossing her arms over her chest. I’m fairly certain she isn’t intentionally drawing my attention to the V-neck of her blouse and the tops of her breasts that are sitting on display in what I’m sure is a black lace push-up bra.

She opens her mouth to say something and then decides better of it, changing tack. “I’m not stupid and I’m not scared of you.”

That earns her a genuine laugh, but I don’t get the chance to argue that she most certainly is, because she throws the door open and stalks away before I even finish laughing.