Page 17 of Promise of Destruction (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #1)

seventeen

Declan

I’ve always been a masochist, but this is a fresh hell that I’ve invented for myself. Working feet away from Soren, breathing her in, pretending that I’m not here for her alone. It’s a torture unlike any I’ve ever inflicted upon myself.

I don’t know what it is about her that has me so captivated.

If she was a little bolder, more assertive, she could be an expert manipulator.

Already there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her—to get closer to her, to get under her skin, to be inside of her.

I ache to hear my name tear from her throat, to taste her, to close my fingers around her delicate neck, maybe even dig my nails into the soft flesh there until her blood drips around them.

It’s far easier to pretend that she doesn’t exist when we’re in the room with others, even though she is literally all that I can think of.

It’s why our staff meeting meanders, why I keep everyone to discuss my expectations, why I have them all spill a secret under the guise of a fun ‘getting to know each other’ game.

I listen to everything they have to say, feigning interest in the ramblings as everyone launches into random, tedious details about themselves.

I manage to engage, to act like I’m fascinated, but each person my attention shifts to only gets half of me.

Once I move onto the next, I forget everything they’ve just said.

If I didn’t need to maintain appearances, I’d have fired the rest of them or demanded they work remotely so that there was no need to pretend to care about every one of these people.

It’s hard to pretend like I want to get to know them when all I want to do is drown in her.

By the time we roll around to Soren, she is fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable. She’s adorable in her frustration… pink cheeks, downcast eyes, but there’s one fatal flaw—the way her teeth bite into her bottom lip sends a bolt of anger through me.

That’s a nasty habit.

I’ll have to break it before I break her.

“Miss Palmer.” I smile magnanimously at her. “Tell us something about yourself.”

Her face turns red as every eye in the room swivels to her, their faces full of expectation. “I…” She closes her mouth and focuses on her hands, swirling her nail absently over her ring finger. “I’m a dancer.” She pauses, realizing that’s not quite right. “ Was , I mean.”

When she looks up, someone’s face must give away what they’re all thinking because she gasps in horror and the rouge on her cheeks deepens, spreading across her face like wine spilled on a canvas.

“I mean, I was a ballerina . I danced when I was young—I traveled the country putting on the Nutcracker until…” She swallows, like she’s thinking better of this confession, “Until we settled down here.”

Somehow, I’m not surprised that she’s a product of ballet. She’s tiny, petite and fragile but also strong and fierce.

I saw Black Swan… ballerinas have a ruthless side, too.

“Care to show us something?” Someone teases, stealing my attention from Soren. That’s when I realize I’ve let this meeting go on a bit too long. They’re getting restless.

The person who spoke is Christopher or Christian or something equally forgettable.

I turn to him, making it clear with a single glance that he didn’t just mis-step—he full-on stumbled with that one.

Fucking idiot probably writes political opinions and has a podcast in his spare time where he laments on one misogynistic topic after another.

“I think that’s all for today.” I force a smile for the room and then direct my attention toward Chris or Kip, or whatever the fuck his name is.

“If you’d all like to finish out your jobs from the comfort of your homes, you may do so.

Not you,” I add before the washed-up ex-quarterback can push himself to standing.

Confusion fleets across his face a minute, but when I give him a simple command—stay—like I’d give a dog, his face sours. He knows what’s coming. But he’s not the only one I don’t want slinking away.

“Miss Palmer?” I say, glancing up from the notebook in my hands. She hesitates but turns and manages a smile like she doesn’t want to feed me to the fish.

“Yes?”

“Please wait for me to wrap up in here before you take your leave. I have to get you that contract.”

Her eyes narrow and she seems to think about saying something, but her gaze darts to her co-worker and she pushes it aside… whatever it is.

“Okay.”

It’s hard not to stare at her as she walks away, but I turn to face my employee. As soon as the door shuts behind Soren, the stocky guy folds his arms across his chest.

“What?” He demands, abandoning the formality he should be using to regard his boss—or rather, his former boss.

“We have a very strict anti-harassment policy. You’ve stepped over the line. Congratulations, Kit. You are the example for the rest of your co-workers about what not to do.”

His mouth drops open, immediately filling with excuses. “You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you I am quite serious.” I lean back in my seat and regard him coolly, wondering whether he has any sense of self-preservation.

When he opens his mouth again, it clears up any doubts I had about that.

“No.”

He says it like a petulant toddler, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“No?” I nearly chuckle but manage to reign in my amusement.

“No.” He agrees. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Something tells me HR would disagree. Particularly when I give them the file I’ve already had my people compiling on you…

all the stuff that you didn’t disclose in your application.

” I tut my tongue and shake my head. “Thank you for your service, Private. Unfortunately, you sullied the good name of the three hundred ninety-eighth battalion with a dishonorable discharge. You’re lucky the Army deals with their own.

I doubt a jury of your peers would have sent you off with a slap of the wrist for what you did. ”

His eyes narrow on me, like he’s trying to decide how much I know.

All of it, obviously.

“Jenny was my girlfriend.”

“I don’t care if she was your government-sanctioned wife.

If she didn’t want to have sex with you at any point, it wasn’t for you to decide that it didn’t matter.

And if she didn’t want to have an abortion, she shouldn’t have been driven to the border and forced into the back of a whore house to be held down and have her baby ripped out of her womb.

And she shouldn’t have been left alone in that seedy motel to bleed to death with an infection. ”

His jaw ticks as he seems to contemplate arguing any of the facts I’ve just spilled.

Even if he hadn’t made an inappropriate comment toward Soren, I’d have cut him loose.

The only reason I didn’t take care of him in the first batch of the merger was because he had been there longer than anyone else and that had made me willing to give him a shot, to try and determine if the information I’d gotten my hands on was biased or falsified.

What a mistake that turned out to be. He’s not worth the time it’s taking me to talk this through with him.

“I know everything, Ken.” I tell him, waving the back of my hand at him in a show of my dismissal.

“You’ll be lucky to get a job flipping burgers for a worn-out Alexander Hamilton passed to you beneath the table.

” I laugh. “The only thing I don’t know about you, Keith, is who you blew to get this job in the first place. ”

His mouth opens and closes like a damn fish, and combined with his red face, I can’t help but laugh a little.

“Right,” I stand, fastening the single button of my jacket with a flick of my hand and tucking my notes under the opposite arm. “Take care, Cody.”

The door is almost shut behind me when I finally hear him speak. The sound is desperate, hilarious.

“It’s Quinton .”