Page 84 of Submission

She leans into me, smelling of a tempting floral scent, and I bend my head down to hear what she clearly wants to say.

“I’m not happy, Hunter. We’ll chat about this later,” she whispers in my ear. It’s meant to be a warning, but all it does is make my dick hard as a rock.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. DiAngelo.” Megan then takes Lena’s arm. “Let’s go around the room and look at some of the other pieces, Lena. Please excuse us.”

Megan is pissed at me, and the gallery is quite safe, so I let the two of them roam around and enjoy the rest of the night.

Darwin finds me again and talks my ear off about some new construction project the school is interested in getting funding for. DiAngelo has no patience for small talk with unimportantpeople, so he escapes early on. By the time I manage to shake the Dean off, I look around and can’t find Megan or Lena anywhere.

My phone rings, and I step outside to answer it.

It’s Vaughn.

“I’m out with the girls,” I tell him without even a hello.

“I know, but this is important.”

He sounds tense.

“What is it?”

“I found the nurse, Rose. Jonathan ended up with a severe infection after the plastic surgery. Even after additional surgeries, his condition has become worse. That’s why he kept Rose around and, later, Diana. I found out something else. Jonathan is not the executioner. He was, in fact, in contact with the man called the Executioner. Jonathan gave him money. He isn’t working alone.”

“So this is bigger than just Jonathan.”

“Everything is all connected. I think he’s either working with or for the same person who’s involved in the power struggle we’re dealing with in the city right now. This executioner person is the key to everything.”

“Shit—is there anything else?” I ask as I digest everything Vaughn has just shared with me.

“Oh, and the picture that Steve talked about was an old one of Lena’s. It was sent to Jonathan eight years ago. He’s been looking for Lena almost as long as you have.”

My blood runs cold.

Chapter 33

I Can Only Blame Myself

Hunter

So this was all planned by some phantom executioner? I scan the room, wondering if the fucker is in here…watching me.

“Are we any closer to a name?” I ask Vaughn. “No,” Vaughn says. “But stay put. Christian and I are on our way. The exhibition is too public. If they’re paying attention to your movements, they’ll know that Lena is there. We’re bringing back up.”

Shit…the girls.

“Text me when you’re outside.”

Cutting the call short, I stride back inside the exhibition while dialing Megan’s number, but no one answers it. I try Lena’s cell but get no response either.

Walking quickly, I circle the gallery, and my worst fears are confirmed when I realize that I can’t find either woman.

“Mr. Middleton–”

I ignore someone trying to gain my attention as I make my way to the ladies’ restroom and barge inside. It’s empty, asidefrom one annoyed woman applying more lipstick, and that also means that both my girls are not here.

Fuck.

My heart is pounding with sickening fear as I cross over into the restricted area and take a look around. The gallery is quite large, aside from the exhibition area, because it serves as a full-fledged art gallery.

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