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The whining in my ears grows louder. My hands close to fists as Ansel’s grin lasers in on me.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t pine after her like a puppy dog back at Knightsblood,” he chuckles. “Fucking hell, your face that night, when you thought it was her that me and the boys were gang-banging?” He starts to laugh louder. “Damn, I wish I’d had a camera.”
“I think this meeting is over,” I mutter , rage throbbing in my veins.
His brow arches. “Here’s the really interesting question though, Alistair. See, I’m sure you hired Eloise because she gets you all hard and squirmy. But…” He grins. “When I saw her the other day, she was talking to you. And the smile on her face?” His eyes laser in on me. “Usually, I’d say that’s how a woman looks at the man she’s fucking. But…Eloise is married, isn’t she?”
I meet his gaze unblinkingly. “She is.”
“And not to you, right?”
“Ansel, does any of this shit have a point?”
He laughs to himself and starts to stroll around the conference room table. “I like this new, all-business Alistair. You were such a prick at school when you were running The Reckless.”
“Funny, you’re still one.”
He grins. “Well, since you’re going to be working for me now, I’ll let you in on a little secret, Alistair,” he sneers. “Sadly, I never did get to fuck your little crush. But even though it wasn’t her that you saw that night…” He sighs heavily.
My vision starts to darken at the corners. My brain starts analyzing the way he’s standing, noticing he’s unguarded, as if I’m in one of the underground rings about to unleash hell.
He needs to stop talking and walk the fuck away.
“Here’s the thing, Alistair…”
He’s smiling at me, clearly taking my stoic silence and clenched fists as me shutting down when he should be taking it as the direct threat it is.
“While I was fucking her slut sister,” he grins, leering close. “I was imagining that pussy was Eloise’s.”
Something ticks over inside me, like a bomb about to explode.
“The same creamy French vanilla cunt, know what I mean?” he giggles. “And while I was fucking that slut from behind, you know what I was doing?”
I’m a hair’s breadth away from snapping as he leans close, grinning right in my face.
“I snuck a pair of Eloise’s panties out of the laundry earlier, and I fucking held that lace to my nose and inhaled like it was my last breath on Earth while I fucked her sis?—”
I fucking snap. It’s him, and the way he’s talking about Eloise, and the emotions still charging through my system from what happened with Rocco.
Ansel goes down on the first hit. But I don’t let him off that easily. I haul him back up, and I hit him again, and again, and again. I hit him so hard he flies out of my grip and smashes his face into the side of the conference table, shattering his nose. He’s screaming and blubbering when I grab him by the collar and yank him up to his knees as I hit him again.
He’s still screaming when four associates rush in and haul me off him.
29
ELOISE
All things considered, living in a luxurious hotel suite overlooking Central Park is pretty darned good. It’s like being on permanent vacation, spending my time lounging, taking long bubble baths, eating decadent room service, and obviously, having phenomenal, toe-curling sex with Alistair.
In the back of my mind, I know there’s danger lurking out there. And I know this can’t last forever. I mean, I can only be on a “business trip with Taylor in Chicago” for so long before it gets suspicious.
That said, Massimo hasn’t once reached out to me, which is…slightly alarming. It’s not as if my terror of a husband has ever been the type to text or call “just to see how I’m doing” or anything like that. It’s more like “where the fuck are you”, “be sure to look good tonight”, and various other vague or not-so-vague threats.
But the fact that he hasn’t reached out at all is slightly unnerving.
Especially since Rocco is dead. Or, at least as far as Massimo knows, is missing and possibly in south Florida. But again, there’s been radio silence. Not even a text mentioning the fact that his guard dog is MIA, like he hasn’t noticed—or if he has, it hasn’t affected him at all.
To be honest, it hasn’t affected me the way I thought it might.
