I need to know about his childhood. His ambitions. His fears. I need a comprehensive profile of Rexton, and there’s only one person I trust to get it for me—especially under such short notice. Rexton will be reaching the Wrath border soon, and I plan to be prepared.
The reclaimed brick building is just ahead, and my throat runs dry as I eye the giant clock built into the front façade. I’ve spent too much time inside this converted clock tower, and it’s filled with memories.
Not positive ones.
Jassy groans when she sees where I’m headed. She hates Wren, but this isn’t a personal call. This is business, and I’m perfectly capable of remaining professional around my cheating whore of an ex-boyfriend.
The thick, front doors of the clock tower are propped open, and I don’t allow myself to hesitate as I step inside and head toward the stairwell on the left. There’s a small reception desk immediately upon entering, but I have no intention of signing in.
I’m aiming for discretion.
“Would you like me to come up?” Jassy asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
I trust Jassy, but not enough. She worked for Aziel first, and I’d be foolish not to realize that her loyalty ultimately lies with him. She won’t say anything about me visiting Wren if she believes it’s for personal reasons, but she will if she discovers I’m here on business.
I wouldn’t have brought her with me if I had any say in the matter, but I suspect my fathers are monitoring my movements. Making an unprompted, solo trip downtown after weeks of reclusiveness draws attention, but bringing Jassy is significantly less suspicious. They’ll assume we came here for an urgent work matter, one I couldn’t ignore.
Jassy lingers by reception as I head upstairs. Wren rents out the entire top floor, and I mentally prepare for what I’m about to encounter as I approach the stairwell exit. I was hopelessly in love the last time I walked through these doors, and I waved wildly at Wren’s four employees as I strolled toward Wren’s private office in the back.
Then I promptly walked in on him fucking another woman on his office couch.
It’s been three years, but my palms still break out into a cold sweat as I shove open the stairwell exit and step onto the top floor. Three employees are lingering about.
One looks up as I enter the room. I recognize him. The other two are new, which isn’t surprising. Wren has a high turnover rate. He hires intelligent, strong, young men, most of whom eventually get recruited into Wrath’s military efforts.
It must infuriate Wren, which brings me immense satisfaction. He deserves nothing less. I only wish I was involved with the recruitment. That would be a sweet revenge.
Wren’s office door taunts me, but I refuse to let my nerves show as I welcome myself inside. I don’t bother knocking, and I’m so fucking relieved to see he’s alone. He’s sitting behind his desk, his eyebrows furrowed as he flips through photographs.
He used to complain about the sheer amount of infidelity he uncovers, about how it disgusts him. It didn’t disgust him enough to keep his dick in his pants.
Wren looks up, then jolts to his feet.
“Cassia!” He clears his throat, his eyes comically wide. “What’re you doing here?”
I look around, briefly eyeing the couch he was lounging on while that woman rode him, before shifting my focus to his desk. It’s cluttered, which is unusual for him. Wren is tidy. Poised and tidy and always in control. It’s what attracted me to him.
Clutter is unattractive, and I cock my head to the side as I scan the hundreds of photographs scattered across his desk. They’re of a woman, and a sharply dressed man occasionally accompanies her.
“Wife having an affair?” I ask.
Wren drags his hands through his short, black hair. “I believe so.”
I hum. Wren’s wearing a suit today. It’s been tailored to his frame, and it looks good. He always looks good. He’s articulate, handsome, and powerful.
I take the seat opposite his desk.
“I have a job for you,” I say. “It’s a personal matter.”
Wren blinks, lowering himself into his chair. “What is it?”
“I need you to look into a man. His name is Rexton. He worked for my parents, and I need a comprehensive report as soon as possible. No detail is too small.”
Wren’s responding silence is far from comforting. It’s uncomfortable and telling.
“What?” I ask.
