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She looks at me, not moving, her shoes dangling from one hand, like she’s trying to work out my angle.
And that’s good. I need her unbalanced and questioning. I keep flipping the script on her. It’s a little cruel perhaps, but it works. It makes her sharp and more tuned into me, and that sells exactly whatI’mtrying to sell.
Malone already texted me to let me know Henderson will be checking out O-Ring later. And that he’s got a table reserved at Orb beforehand.
I get up and walk to the door, my eyes dropping to my watch. Ivy’s feet pad across the floor behind me, like she’s caught in my net and forced to go wherever I lead. But she can’t come any farther because what I’m about to do next doesn’t include a plus one.
“Ivy, go back to studying. I have to handle something for work.” I pause, turning to look at her before I grasp the door handle. “And I want you dressed appropriately when I get back. We’re going out tonight.”
“Sex club?”
I can almost hear her silent “Sir.”
“Not tonight. I want you in an outfit that says innocent sub who can be bent to my will. If you don’t have what you want,my driver will be waiting outside to take you shopping. Be ready at seven.”
With that, I walk out of my triplex in pursuit of my next clueless target.
Waiting is a powerful tool, one I use to my advantage. Right now, I wait, letting the silence weigh in the air between us. I hope he feels it. I hope it fucking chokes him.
“I didn’t know you knew Ivy Gardner.” Jon Trenton stands against a window in his West Village brownstone on Tenth Street.
I sit back in my chair, steepling my fingers. He knows exactly who I am, and he’s scared. I can tell by the unsteadiness in his voice. I own a company he’s now CEO of. I could end him that way. Maybe that’s why he’s so suspicious of my sudden visit.
But fuck that. That won’t give me the retribution I need.
He walks over to his desk, opens a drawer, and fumbles with something inside. Probably cigars. Men like him think they’re cool as fuck, and maybe he needs it to calm his frayed nerves. He sure as hell will need it soon enough.
There’s a wedding ring on his finger, but the wife is tucked away in the Hamptons. Was she out there all those years ago, when he defiled Ivy?
Cocky, arrogant asshole. In his desperation to grab that cigar, he didn’t think to bring his drink with him. And that decision is going to be fateful for him.
He comes back, offering me a cigar. I don’t even acknowledge it as I finally answer his question. “Intimately.”
Nabbing his drink from where he left it on the table next to me, he takes a puff on the cigar, then gulps down half thedrink. “She’s a little slut. I can tell you exactly what she likes.”
“I know what she likes and doesn’t. Interestingly enough, you fall into the latter.”
He laughs as car horns blare outside. Someone yells. He needs double fucking glazing on those windows. Or would, if he was going to live long enough to benefit from it, which he won’t.
“That how she’s playing it? She loved it all, everything I did to her. Likes it violent, big into rape fantasy.”
“Fucking a fifteen-year-oldisrape. No room for fantasy or misinterpretation.”
His eyes narrow. “She begged for it. That means it was consensual.”
I’m not having this pissing contest. Leaning forward in the chair, I glare at him. “The thing is, I don’t give a flying fuck what you think, only what she’s told me and what I worked out on my own. And you’re a sick fuck. I have…” I slide a thumb drive across the table at him. “Photos, stories, evidence of all the underage girls you’ve fucked. But tell the truth, Ivy’s the one you’d give anything to have again. Isn’t that right?”
“She’s…special.” His words are stilted, like he isn’t sure where this is going.
“She is. And you have a problem, Trenton, because you touched something of mine. And I don’t stand for that.”
“You can’t do anything to me.” He downs the rest of his drink and puffs his cigar again.
A grin tugs at my lips. “See, that’s where you’re wrong because I already have.”
I don’t care where he’ll drop, but it’s going to look like his heart gave out. If they suspect he was poisoned and look hard enough, they’ll find traces. But after the next part of my plan falls into place, the authorities will chalk it up to a suicide.
Tomorrow, his wife will receive a package and Trenton will be fired. He’ll be brought up on charges of embezzlement, and the latest girl he groomed is about to talk to the cops. Shit and all manner of hell will rain down on him. And then in one week, after dealing with the shame, humiliation, and devastation to his life and family, he’ll drop dead.
