Page 6 of The Burdens We Share (Satan’s Angels #3)

Dallas

I open the door of my penthouse office and let it close behind me.

This morning, like every other Monday morning, I had a strategy meeting, followed by some personal client meetings.

Now, it’s noon and I have about an hour to dedicate to going through and answering emails before my one o’clock meeting with Harvey to discuss performance and the numbers for our current quarter.

I’ll admit, I like to keep busy. I get a certain level of pride and excitement from being booked nearly all day every day, but having Harvey around to divide the workload has removed a heavy burden from my shoulders.

When I purchased his security company from him all those years ago, it was just your average protection and private security company.

In the years since, I’ve grown it into not only a personal protection company but also a corporate security and tech security company.

We don’t just work with high-profile clients now.

We work with government officials and extremely important people and companies.

I’ve built on top of what Harvey already put into place and I built it up so tall that it started leaning on one side and when I wasn’t strong enough to hold it up alone, I had to call Harvey and convince him to hold up the other side.

That was easily one of the best and smartest business decisions of my life because our company has never been performing better.

Besides, having Harvey around proved to be a lifesaver when I slacked off and decided to fall off the grid six months ago.

The thought resurfaces the reason I lost it and fell off the grid and I force the memory at bay, clenching my jaw tighter as I stroll over to my desk and sit.

I’ve become a natural at this. At pretending things don’t bother me.

At pushing them away, sweeping them under the rug where I don’t have to properly deal with them.

When I get like this, it feels like nothing and nobody can calm me down.

Well, there’s only one person who seems to be able to steady me, but that file stays locked up in my desk drawer.

Opening that drawer and sliding that file out has become almost second nature to me when I feel overwhelmed or stressed.

I’m fully aware that as every day goes by, I find myself reaching for that file more and more.

I don’t know what that means and I don’t want to.

I’m staring at the drawer now, the mahogany wood almost mocking me.

I glance up even though I know I’ll find my office empty, and quickly revert my gaze to the drawer.

I reach for the key I keep in my suit jacket pocket and withdraw the small silver key.

I slide it into the lock and turn it until I hear a faint click.

I bring my fingers up to the drawer handle and close my fingers around the black steel.

Just as I’m about to pull it open, my office door barges open and my eyes shoot up.

I immediately push the drawer closed and turn the lock as my gaze focuses on Selene Stone.

She looks breathless, strands of her usually perfectly groomed hair sticking out in odd places.

She also has a flush to her cheeks that I’ve never seen before.

Something must be horribly wrong if Selene looks as though she isn’t in control for once.

That woman thrives on control—seeing her like this is.

.. unsettling. I’ve come to know the short woman well and she is all business.

She’s a damn shark and right now, she’s looking an awful lot like a feeder fish.

“What’s the matter? Your little trio of rockstars causing you trouble?

” I tease her, my head tilting to the side.

She doesn’t smile. Her brows are creased with what looks like fear and she completely brushes off my question as she closes my office door behind her and rushes towards my desk.

So much for dedicating an hour to cleaning out my inbox.

“I need your help,” her voice is breathy as if she just sprinted to my office.

If her barging in here was any indication, I’d say that the odds of her sprinting here are pretty high.

Whatever happened must be bad if it’s got her acting so out of character.

I immediately lean back in my chair, tucking the small key back into my suit jacket. “This must be good. I know how much it kills you to say you need help.”

Selene completely shakes off my jab and continues, “It’s about Ivory.”

A breath catches in my lungs and I sit up straighter, focusing my full attention on Selene. Whatever playfulness I just had disappears at the mention of the little devil that is Ivory Aslan. “What’s wrong?” I try to keep my voice neutral even though I’m feeling anything but.

Selene rests her hands on my desk, palms down, and looks up at me. I can suddenly see years worth of exhaustion in her features. “Someone has been stalking her for months and today he broke into her house.”

I feel the blood in my veins grow hotter, my nostrils flaring.

Pure violence washes through me. How dare someone stalk her?

How dare someone break into her home? If whoever this is laid so much as a single finger on her, I’d find him myself and feed him his own cock. “Is she hurt?” My voice is outraged.

She shakes her head and relief washes through me, only slightly satiating the burning need I have for blood. “No, she’s okay. He left her house before she got home from our meeting this morning. She’s just really shaken up.”

The thought of someone frightening the little devil doesn’t sit right with me.

Ivory Aslan is known as Satan’s Baby for a reason.

The girl is trouble in a very petite and short body.

She’s always throwing jabs or witty insults at whoever she’s facing down at that moment.

The thought of someone being able to wipe her evil little grin off her face and replace it with fear infuriates me.

“Did the police apprehend him?” I doubt they did if Selene is here in my office, but I want the details.

I want to know everything so that I can properly plan this person’s death.

Selene stands up to her full, short height, and crosses her arms over her chest. “No, and they don’t have a suspect either. In the note he left her and the text he sent, he never revealed anything that might give the police a lead in finding out who he is.”

I stiffen. “A note? Texts?”

She sighs, “One text and one note.”

“What did they say?”

“She got the first text the day that Aria was in the hospital. She showed me the message after taking ten years to find it, but basically, he was just saying that he was close to her, that he was always watching her. She thought it was a prank and brushed it off. Then she started to find these pink roses everywhere. He was leaving them on her car, in her dressing rooms, and at her events. I don’t even know how he got access to all of those places,” her voice picks up a wave of fear and I realize Selene’s fear must not even be a fraction of what Ivory is feeling.

I raise a dark brow, “She got that text all those months ago, and she never said a word?” The thought of anyone, especially this person, being in her personal space and sending her these roses and that message has me gripping the armrests of my chair a little too tight.

I want to peel his skin off in layers with my bare hands and watch him bleed.

Selene rolls her eyes, “Of course she didn’t. This is Ivory, she never takes anything serious until it shows up at her door. Literally.”

“What was in the note she received today?” I ask.

Selene pulls her phone from her pocket and taps her screen, most likely putting her password in.

“The police have it and are holding it as evidence, but I took a picture of it before they left.” She flips the phone over to face me and outstretches her hand so I can take her phone in mine.

I read the note. My breath catches in my lungs and I squeeze the phone so tight it’s a miracle the glass doesn’t shatter.

I look up at Selene with rage in my eyes. “He’s dangerous.”

“No shit. That’s why I need you.” She has a pleading look in her eye.

A look that Selene Stone would never give anyone.

She’s much like me in many ways. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, she’s business-driven, and the woman is extremely smart.

It’s why she and I have grown to be partners in a way.

To see the woman I know practically begging for my help even though it is so unlike her, tells me how much she loves and cares for Ivory. Not that I needed proof.

Selene and I have grown quite close since Harvey introduced her and I about four months ago.

She does me favors, and I do her favors, it’s a symbiotic business relationship.

Usually, I’m the type of man who doesn’t help anyone unless there’s something in it for me, but I’ve noticed the last two times I’ve offered favors, I got nothing in return.

The first was when Selene recruited me to help clean up Aria Kane’s and Slater Nicks’ sex tape mess, and the second was when Slater called me and asked me to permanently cut off contact between Aria’s ex-boyfriend, Duncan, and her.

The reason that I helped with both of these issues is quite simple.

Ivory Aslan. Aria is important to Ivory, hence why I agreed to help.

I never verbally admitted it and Selene never asked, but knowing her, she figured it out on her own and never mentioned it.

That is also the very reason she came to me with the issue of the stalker.

She knows I won’t deny her because Ivory is involved.

I clench my jaw tight at the fact that I have a weakness and that Selene is exploiting it. “What do you need from me?”

Selene still holds fear in her eyes, though the fear is starting to mix with a little bit of pride. She knows she’s played me and that she’s won. I’m putty in her palms and she knows it. “I need you to find out who this person is so that he can properly be stopped.”

That’s it? I frown, “Not a problem.”

Selene smiles weakly, “Thank you.”

“I have a condition to this agreement,” I pipe up.

She sighs, “As you always do.”

I stand at my full height which is easily a foot and a half taller than her.

I look down at her and assert, “Ivory’s home security system will be upgraded by me, and I will be placing myself in charge of her personal security until this person is caught.

” I’m the CEO of this company. I don’t go out in the field and protect clients.

That is entirely below my pay grade, and yet, the thought of someone else being so close to the little devil infuriates me, and replaces my blood with acid.

Selene smirks, “I thought you were oh so busy, Dallas. You can’t just have someone on your field team guard her?”

I lie, “I don’t trust anyone with her protection but myself.”

Selene laughs, “And why’s that?”

I don’t have to say why. She already knows.

When I keep my jaw shut, she nods, a grin on her lips because the lion knows that she’s caught her prey.

Damn, Selene Stone. She knows damn well I would never allow someone else to be that close to Ivory.

She knows how selfish of a man I am. For months I’ve been appearing in places only to be in the same room as her, and Selene knows it.

Selene shakes her head as she looks at me victoriously. She always knows more than she lets on. Somehow, this very short woman manages to be the tallest in every room. “One day, Dallas, you’ll tell me why you’re so infatuated with my friend.”

Doubtful. But I admire her persistence.

She sighs, “Be at Ivory’s house tomorrow. Late morning. We’ll share the news with her that you’ll be taking care of things.”

Oh? Selene never told her she was asking for my help?

Ivory has no idea that I’m about to be spending so much time with her.

She’s going to hate this. That alone almost makes me smile.

I wonder if she’ll do tomorrow what she does every other time she sees me and avoid making eye contact with me.

I love how her cheeks turn pink under my stare and how she squirms. Her body reacts to me whether she wants to admit it to herself or not and my cock jerks in my pants just thinking about it.

I nod and Selene raises her chin, her playful expression fading for a moment, “Thank you, Dallas.”

A hurricane disguised in a Chanel suit. Without saying another word, Selene turns on her heel and strides out of my office, most likely hellbent on wreaking havoc on someone else.

Once the door closes behind her, I withdraw the key from my jacket once more and make quick work of unlocking the drawer and sliding the file out. I place it flat on my desk and open it, my anger already fading as my eyes start scanning over the documents I’ve committed to memory.