Page 92 of Bared Betrayal
“It was so much worse,” I say. “But it served its purpose in calming the serpent. Now we need to get rid of her before more Dark Sovereign shipments come in.” I sit back in my chair and press the heels of my hands into my eyes. A migraine is brewing between my temples. I’ve been staring at this computer screen for far too long. A less determined man would take a break. But breaks are for cunts.
She glances at the broken keyboard on the floor. “You know, that’s the fourth keyboard you’ve destroyed in a matter of days.”
“What’s your point?”
“No point. Just an observation.”
My phone vibrates, and for a second, my heart skips into overdrive, thinking it’s her—but when I see Victoria’s name flashing on the screen, I start wishing for a good fucking coma.
I put it on silent, and Denise lifts a brow. “You know she’s only going to call the office now.”
“Don’t answer.”
“I can’t not answer the office phone. What do you want me to tell her?”
“What I want is for someone to toss her into Lake Michigan.”
Denise shrugs. “Too messy. I suggest Hoffa style.”
I look up at her in confusion.
“Two in the back of the head and then dump her body in the wet cement of a landmark or a new skyscraper. Something that will be there a while.” She blinks back at me with an angelic look on her professional face.
“That’s disturbing,” I say, deadpan.
“And the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Davian saunters into my office uninvited. “I mean it, Denise.” He takes a seat across from me. “My dick hasn’t been this hard since Gabriel’s mom had her mouth around it.”
“Out. Both of you.”
“Gabriel, relax. I told you your mom will always be the girl for me.” Davian winks, and I’m imagining his eyeball on a fucking toothpick.
Denise gets up and glares at Davian before looking my way. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Mr. King?”
“Has the hotel called about who dropped off that envelope the other day?”
“Hotel?” Davian sits up. “What hotel? Gabriel, are you fucking your secretary?” he says as if he’s scandalized and clutching his imaginary pearls.
“Fuck off, Davian.”
“I told you I call dibs on your secretary.”
“Excuse me?” Denise places her hand on her waist, cocking her hip to the side. “No one gets to call dibs, especially not you. What you want is a woman as chemically imbalanced as you are. If she isn’t trying to slit your throat in your sleep, you’ll just get bored.”
Davian doubles over in laughter, and I can’t help the ghost of a smile on my lips. She has a point.
“Denise, can you grab some aspirin for me? I have a feeling Davian is going to give me a headache.”
“Absolutely.”
Denise saunters out of my office, and Davian studies me. “You look like shit.”
“Thank you. So good of you to notice.”
“What’s going on?”
I let out a sigh, rubbing my fingers along my chin. “Kallie, my son’s fiancée—”
“The son who hates you,” he clarifies like an asshole. He is loyal but exasperating.
