Page 12 of Bought By the Owner's Son
But now I know I can’t wait anymore.
“I’m tracking all possible leads, sir. I’ve recently heard that there was a witness to the murder. I think I’m almost there, I just need a few more days,” Marcus says.
I stop at the coffee maker and add the necessary ingredients. “I appreciate all that you’ve done, Marcus, but I can’t wait. I’m calling my contact in the FBI once I end this call. If the lead you have is good, keep investigating—if you find concrete evidence, we can send it to my contact later.”
“Alright, Mr. Devereaux.”
“Good. I’ll reach out soon,” I say sharply, then end the call.
When the coffee’s ready, I pour some in a mug and slowly take a sip, warming up my insides. As I leave the kitchen, my phone vibrates in my palm. I frown when I see the ID. It’s my father.
Speak of the devil…
“Hello, Father,” I drawl in a low tone, devoid of emotion.
“Lucian,” he says in his usual soft, silky voice. The voice he uses to fool people into believing whatever he says. It doesn’t work on me, and he knows that, but he’s so used to deceiving people that he can’t help it. “Can you explain what the hell happened at the auction? We both know you detest that part of the business—you’ve never failed to let me know that. What’s gotten into you?”
“Since you’ve been hounding me to sample one of the women, I thought I’d take you up on the offer,” I reply breezily.
“I don’t believe a word from you,” he says quietly. “I want you to get rid of that girl. That’s an order.”
My entire body goes taut at his words.How dare he?
Despite my rage, I recognize the need to remain rational in this moment. So I keep my voice level, ignoring the heat searing into my palm from the coffee mug. “You know I don’t take orders from anyone, and definitely not from you. Still, let me humor you—why do you want her dead?”
“Don’t ask questions. Kill her, or I’ll do it for you,” he snaps, and then he hangs up.
My anger boils over, raging like a tornado as I tighten my grip around the coffee mug, pacing back and forth in the living room.
Why the fuck does my father want Elena dead?
Something isn’t adding up, and it’s pushing my fury to the forefront. I know that when my father wants someone dead, they end up dead. And I’ll never allow that to happen to Elena. I’d sooner tear out my heart than hurt a hair on her head.
There’s no way he wants to kill her just because I took an interest in her. There’s something else at play here.
Sitting on the couch, I set my mug on the coffee table and quickly fire off a text to Marcus:Find out why my father wants Elena dead. This is your utmost priority. Leave everything else.
The moment I send the text, I put the phone in my pocket and stare at the wall as I think of possible reasons for his decision.Does it have something to do with her lost memories?
“Lucian.” Elena’s voice penetrates my thoughts as she curls up next to me on the couch, looping her arm around me.
I look down at her, mustering a smile. “Good morning, love,” I say, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
She stares at my face, her eyes searching mine, unconvinced. “What’s wrong?” she asks quietly. “You looked murderous just now.”
“Does that scare you?” I ask, half joking but curious about her response.
“You don’t scare me, Lucian,” she says simply.
I tug her into my arms until she’s in my lap, and I bury my face in her neck, letting her soft, flowery scent soothe the fire in my soul. “I will protect you, my love,” I whisper fiercely into her ear. “I promise.”
Chapter Seven
Elena
They killed him…
The words repeat on a loop in my mind as I run down the empty sidewalk.
