Page 51 of King of Envy

Ice spread through my veins, cold butsearing.

“Before you ask, yes, I’ve swept my apartment and devices for bugs,” Ayana said. “I didn’t find anything.”

How often do you check?I kept my hand movements tightly controlled even as the beast inside me frothed at the mouth to hunt Hank down.

Her expression turned sheepish. “Um, twice total?”

Christ. My team swept my house, car, offices, and devices daily. Old habits died hard, and the corporate world could be just as ruthless as the criminal one.

There are certain surveillance devices that basic bug detectors won’t pick up on.I should know—I’ve used them myself.I’ll have my team do their own check. They’ll be discreet, and we’ll get to the bottom of it.

Ayana released a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it. Truly.”

I’ll be in touch.I reached for the door.

“You’re leaving already? I mean, you haven’t finished your tea,” Ayana added hastily.

I almost smiled for the second time that day.

I wanted to stay. She was clearly shaken from her encounter with Hank—which was exactly why I needed to leave.

I’ll finish next time.I opened the door.I have some business to take care of.

* * *

Hank lived in an apartment on the west side. It was a strikingly average building for a man who flaunted expensive watches and blustered as much as he did, but the contrast tracked with what I knew of human nature.

The smallest men compensated in the biggest ways.

I parked a few blocks away and entered the no-doorman building with no issues. My search for the mystery Brother would have to wait another day; I had a more pressing issue at hand.

One text to Sean had turned up Hank’s address and license plate number, while an educated guess led me to believe the agent had gone straight home after leaving Ayana’s place.

His senior agent role at Beaumont meant he had more flexibility to work from home. It was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, and Ayana’s apartment was relatively far from the neighborhoods where fashion types usually met. If he’d had a packed afternoon, he wouldn’t have had time to see herandmake it to his meetings. Ergo, his most likely location was at home.

One knock proved me right.

Hank opened the door, still dressed in the same shirt and tacky watch he’d sported earlier. His eyes rounded when he saw me. “What are you—hey!” He yelped when I shouldered past him. “You can’t just come in like that! You’re trespassing!”

I ignored his caterwauling and assessed his apartment with a dispassionate glance. It was an open space, so there were no walls dividing the living room from the kitchen and dining areas. Flat-screen TV, magazines stacked on the coffee table, dirty dishes in the sink. The typical bachelor pad.

“Get out or I’ll call the police.” Hank fumbled with his phone, his hand shaking. “Right now.”

I strode to the kitchen and plucked an apple from the fruit basket.

“Did you hear me?” His voice pitched higher. “I’m calling the police!”

I pulled a knife out of the wooden block.

Hank’s face paled, but he didn’t dial 911. It would take time for the police to get here, and I could do a lot in a short amount of time.

His tone turned coaxing. “Is this about Ayana? Because I swear, I was only there to check up on her. She’s one of my most important clients. I care about her well-being.”

Funny how fast he switched up. He didn’t seem so tough now that he didn’t have an easy target to intimidate.

I slowly peeled off the apple’s skin with the knife. The methodical motion restrained my rage, but the more Hank babbled, the more those restraints frayed.

His voice reminded me of his conversation with Ayana. His conversation with Ayana reminded me of how upset she’d been—and of what I’d overheard before I made my presence known.

---