Page 2 of Hero & Villain
I was racing with my cousin Philippe, as always, to see who could get the company first. He could have focused on his own interests, but no, he always had to do his best to destroy what I was trying to take. Even thinking of Philippe made me queasy. He gave villainy a bad name. Like demand a kiss and then drown you in a pond when you refuse so he can give you mouth to mouth psychotic. If he ever touched Toni, I really would have to kill him.
My computer flashed and then I was through the barriers. I grinned and leaned up on my elbows so my hands could move more quickly over the keyboard.
“Don’t move,” Emmett warned as he smoothed another layer of wax down the back of my leg.
I ignored him, focusing on worming through layers of security, using passwords I’d gotten from my minions placed in various corporations and businesses, until I reached the files. I quickly searched through them and finally found the right one. I clicked download and smiled in satisfaction at a job well done.
Then, an image of Scooby Doo driving a car filled my screen while the theme blared in my ears.
What the flaming balls of idiocy was this?
Emmett hummed along with the theme song while I scrambled to bring my laptop back under my control. I hit commands that made the Scooby Doo screen flicker out for a moment, but it came back, this time with Scooby Doo riding a rocket through space.
Of all the stupid…
I wasn’t the best hacker. I was adequate, but if someone was able to get through my laptop’s premier firewalls and target me, odds were that I wouldn’t be able to fight back, particularly not with my laptop and nothing else. My strengths were corporate warfare, not digital terrorism. I shut my laptop down, cutting off the theme song mid-note. That note was going to haunt me all day. And it was Thursday. And Maestro had dumped me.
“Hey, I liked it,” Emmett said in his low voice.
His sister hissed at him. “You talk too much. Do you want to lose the Christmas bonus? Sorry boss. We’re finished. Do you want us to help you with anything else?”
I slowly sat up and turned to face the two blonde, fair, blue-eyed beauticians. The Swedish twins. They gave excellent massages and mud peels, but it being Thursday, I didn’t havetime for relaxation. I shrugged, my stomach twisting and my heart beating too fast. Someone had dared assault my laptop while I was in the middle of collecting valuable intel. Also waxing. You just didn’t do that to somebody. Where was the professional courtesy? Also, why was it Thursday? I felt so defeated. No teacher. No files. No hope.
I almost rolled my eyes at my own drama. “You can do my Thursday makeup.”
“All right!” Emmett said with a broad smile, and then he slathered my face with lotion.
I sat there like a doll playing dress-up while I went over the facts. Was Philippe behind the Scooby Doo attack? It didn’t feel like him. He was blood red and flashy, not kooky and random. It was probably someone from Harness Global, hired to protect their servers. That was smart of them. I couldn’t help but respect that.
On a more vital note to my happiness and well-being, who could I find to take over my cello lessons? No one. What was I supposed to do that would keep me from spiraling into misery and vengefulness if it wasn’t my biweekly visit to the concert hall?
Emmett chose that moment to slip with the eyeliner, jabbing me in the eye. I flinched and blinked the blurry blonde man into focus while his big blue eyes got round and horrified.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, face going pale.
The twins stood there, both of them waiting for me to fire them, or dock their pay, or whatever else clients who owned their livelihood usually did. Not that my name was on the title. That was all Toni. My name wasn’t on anything. It was safer that way for everyone. Safety was important, particularly eye safety.
I blinked the tears away and said, “The next time you do that, I’m returning the favor. Emmett, you’ll be in full-face makeup for a week, including red eye.”
He beamed brilliantly. His expressions were so intense. “It won’t happen again, boss. And having you do my makeup would be a privilege.” Mm-hm. Good to know that I’d brain-washed him appropriately.
My eye still hurt by the time I had my perfect Thursday face on, false lashes, swooping eyeliner, and a blood red lip that reminded me of my cousin. Shudder.
As long as I had my fiancé, Clint Harrison, I didn’t need to worry about Philippe personally. That was the deal I’d made with my grandfather: I catch the billionaire playboy and make him and his business play nice with Harversham Corp., and my grandfather would keep Philippe far away from me and my interests. It worked about as well as I expected. My cousin didn’t listen to anyone except my terrifying grandfather, and he was getting old. Still, it was better than running into my cousin regularly. I hadn’t seen his vile, gorgeous face in two fabulous years. When I thought of him, I still tasted pond water and vomit.
The spa was above my villainous lair, where Toni lived and kept business running smoothly in the basement sublevels. I owned the entire building in her name. Not her real name. She wasn’t allowed to have one of those after the ‘accident’ two years ago, when I realized the kinds of enemies that came with the Haversham name, my grandfather’s name. Toni wasn’t allowed to pay for her connection to me with scars or pain. Putting up with me was a high enough price.
After I was appropriately painted and garbed, Clark helped me into the car. “Where to, miss?” he asked once we were settled.
I hesitated as I sank into the rich leather seat. I didn’t want to go to my fiancé’s penthouse apartment on the top floor of the tallest apartment building in Boston. I could cope with heights ever since my 18th birthday elevator ride, but lately it hadn’tseemed like it. It wasn’t just the stretch of windows along the side of the apartment that had me hesitating. It was Thursday. That was my dominatrix day, as evidenced by the spiked bustier and leather collar I was wearing beneath the beige Burberry trench.
You see, catching Clint Harrison meant turning myself into what he wanted, and he was a black sheep among society that no respectable debutante could tame. I had to become…less than respectable.
My fingers itched for my bow, needing to put all these feelings into music so they wouldn’t keep buzzing under my skin, but Maestro had dropped me. His obsession with music was greater than his obsession with money. Which is why he was such a great musician, I supposed.
“To the apartment,” I finally said in a cold voice.
“Of course.” He pulled out smoothly into traffic.
