Page 123 of Seeking Vengeance

When he walks back inside, the placating smile he gives me is pitiful. “I need to get to Trend earlier than anticipated.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Just loose ends.”

“I thought you didn’t work for him anymore.”

“I don’t,” he grates. “Lorenzo heard there was footage of the shooting. Someone uploaded it to social media. It’s already been taken down, but I want to make sure there isn’t a trace left behind.”

My pulse kicks. “What kind of footage?”

“A blurry twenty-second snapshot. It isn’t a big deal.”

“You’re pacifying me.” I can see it in his eyes. He isn’t giving me the full story.

“No, I’m not. It’s been taken down. It didn’t gain traction and wasn’t picked up by journalists.”

“But we were in it, weren’t we? You can see our faces.” There’s evidence I was with my family’s competition when a shooting happened. “I need to call Cole.”

“What you need to do is be rational. Involving him will only cause complications.” He walks up to me, gliding an arm around my waist. “Let me handle it. If things escalate, which they won’t, then you can call him.”

“If word gets back to him—”

“Word won’t get back. Lorenzo handled the cops. He’s had the video taken down. People don’t care about another drive-by shooting, especially when nobody got hurt. It’s not big news.” He leans in, his lips close to mine. “I just want to make sure it remains that way. Okay? It’s only a precaution.”

I close my eyes, letting his mouth ease my concerns as he kisses me possessively.

“I’ll be home late. I’ll try not to wake you.” He walks from the room, leaving me in a silent penthouse that grows more desolate by the hour.

I order takeout for an early dinner. Shower. Stalk my phone.

When night falls, I help myself to Matthew’s liquor cabinet to ease the constant simmer of apprehension.

I text him for an update before I go to bed. He placates me immediately, pretending everything is peachy when I’m certain nothing could be further from the truth.

But when he arrives home after midnight, his naked body finding mine under the covers, the reconnection of our bodies makes the worries disappear.

We make love in the dark. Slow. Silent. Sensual. There’s only heated eye contact through the shadows and possessive touches beneath the sheets.

I don’t question the new depth of our passion, or how it feels like we’re both clinging to something destined to end.

I fall back asleep with his body spooned behind mine like a perfect puzzle piece, his lips on my shoulder, his arm around my waist.

The mattress doesn’t jostle again until the morning sun beams around the edge of the drapes.

“Matthew?” I roll toward his side of the bed, finding him already dressed in another impeccable suit as he kneels to tie his shoes near the door.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” His focus remains on his laces. “I’m going to walk to the cafe on the corner and get breakfast.”

“I’ll come.” I fling back the sheet.

“No.” He stands with a frown, still not meeting my gaze as he fixes his lapels. “I’ve got calls to make. Stay here until I get back.”

There’s no offer of clarification. No apology. Just dictatorship that doesn’t have the same appeal as it does when spoken sexually.

“Is everything all right?” I cling to the sheets, wanting to give him space while instinct demands I pry. “Has something happened?”

“We’ll talk when I get back.” His gaze finally meets mine. “It’s time we laid everything on the table.”

---