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Chapter
Thirteen
TRENT
When the minute hand of the clock hits the time I allotted and Payton doesn’t show, my anger bubbles.
Clearly, her situation hasn’t sunk in.
I’ll just have to break your will, Miss Hart. Then you will confess all your sins and the part you played in Ivy’s kidnapping.
The irritation fades in an instant. I’m looking forward to our game of cat and mouse. I admire her audacity. The fire that lights in her eyes drives me wild. Fucking sue me. I’m an asshole.
I stand, walking to the side of my office with a built-in bookcase. My finger brushes against the spine of a book. War and Peace.
I consider my options of punishment to dole out for this infraction. They say the punishment should fit the crime. She stole my time; I’ll steal her money. With the book in hand, I sit back down. This time I set a timer on my phone, noting my net worth increases about two grand a minute.
By the time another ten minutes pass and she’s out twenty large, I decide to inform her of her predicament.
She’s lucky I’m even giving her this solution to her problems.
With the friends I have, I can easily remove all traces of the money, especially now that I have the account number. Before she realizes what I’ve done, she would be broke.
This—me as her controller—is mercy. Jaxson Price would destroy her identity. Cyrus Reed would ruin her financially, reputationally, and mentally. My other friends and clients? They’d just not bother with the effort and kill her outright.
If she had to pick a ruthless bastard to piss off, she’s lucky it’s me. She’s still breathing. I won’t go as far as ending her life. Not my style.
See, Dad. Take notes: Some of us have scruples.
That doesn’t mean I’m opposed to introducing a heavy dose of fear into her life.
I stand from my chair, pushing it back. The wood scrapes against the floor.
Another five minutes have passed, and she’s out a total of thirty grand at this point. A drop in the water when you consider the twenty-two-million-dollar pot. But if this continues, she’ll be bankrupt before she turns twenty-fucking-two.
I am dead set on ruining her day and possibly her life. First, she needs to know the money she has happily spent all these years is blood money.
Would she even care?
I exit my office, walking down the hallway in large strides.
Another minute.
Another two grand out the door.
I continue until I’m in front of her room. I lift my hand to knock but decide against it.
One, this is my house. I don’t need to knock to enter my room.
Two, she was supposed to be in my office seventeen minutes ago.
Three, I don’t owe her a damn thing.
I fling the door open.
As soon as I do, a scream rings out through the air. My eyes immediately pivot to the entry points, taking inventory of potential threats.
Windows, empty.
