“Keep me updated on that. And, Harris?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I need eyes on her.”
“Consider it done.” He nods again and leaves.
I rub my forefinger against my chin, contemplating where Maxim’s call for parole is coming from. Does it have to do with Aurora’s reappearance?
The image of her murky blue eyes returns to memory. The way she trembled in fear but still held her ground when I gripped her chin.
I’ve had grown men shake in front of me, yet Aurora didn’t shy away from giving me a piece of her mind. Even after she knew I had her and H&H by the throat.
Literally and figuratively.
If I choose to, I can blow her little company to irredeemable pieces.
I won’t, though.
At least, not until I have what I want from her.
I sip my cognac, letting the strong liquid burn my throat as I recall the slight twitch in those red lips while she stared up at me.
She held my gaze, I’ll give her that.
Now I’m tempted to see how far I can push her before she stops doing so.
I’m no saint. I’ve had my fair share of women after Alicia’s death, but each and every one of them were gone within the night. Harris made them all sign NDAs that ensure they’ll run the other way the moment they see me again.
This is the first time I’ll keep someone close. Not because I want her close, but because I’ll untangle her piece by each bloody piece.
Aurora Harper might be a carbon copy of my wife, but I’m beginning to see they’re nothing alike.
Clarissa – Aurora – was a wild child. She sang off tune and danced sporadically when she thought no one was watching, then hid behind Alicia’s wedding dress when people were around.
Something tells me she’s still the same. She’s hiding something, and as it happens, I’m good with riddles and wars.
Especially wars.
I stand up and stop by my glass chessboard on the coffee table. It has an unfinished game from when I played alone this morning.
Now that both Aiden and Levi are gone, I have no one to play with but myself. There’s Harris, but he’s too obsessed with his tablet to pay enough attention to chess.
Usually, I make one of my sides lose just so I can win afterwards.
Let’s say it’s a vicious cycle.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I retrieve it.
Aiden. Speak of the devil.
“Jonathan, finally.”
“Hello to you, too, son.”
“Forget about that. Why h
aven’t you been answering my calls?”