Chapter 15 Episode 15

“Let me go!” I yell, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “I’ve got her,” he says into his radio. He pauses to listen to the response in his earpiece, and the first security guard catches up with us. Heis puffing angrily and grabs my other arm. “I’ll take her,” he says. The second security guard shakes his head. “New orders,” he says. Then, turning to address me, headds, “You’re coming with me.” I don’t like the sound of that. I try desperately to free myself from his grip but he’s too strong. Hishand is like a vise on my arm. He hauls me through the door into a large open-plan office, wheredozens of faces turn to gawk at me as I am dragged toward the elevator. I feel like a snapping beast, a wild thing subjugated against its will. Like a tiger. When Mauricio yanks a struggling, cursing Alexis into my office and deposits her into the chairopposite me, I am two things—annoyed, because despite my best efforts she has somehow wound upin front of me again, and impressed, because despite my best efforts she has somehow wound up infront of me again. As my gaze drifts over her, I note that I am also aroused. Her curly, shoulder-length hair is in disarray.Those glittering blue eyes narrow on me below thick black lashes, and her lips curl into a snarl. Herchest heaves, and the buttons of her blouse seem to barely contain her sizable breasts. She looksfierce and sexy and positively venomous. “Thank you, Mauricio,” I say. “You can go.” He nods and leaves, closing the door behind him. And then we are alone. “I don’t know why you look so angry,” I comment. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’re in myoffice. Calm down, Tiger.” Her eyes widen. “What I wanted was for you to be a decent, respectful human being and give me theforty minutes you owed me,” she spits. “I didn’t want to be dragged through this building like aprisoner. You can’t just order your muscle to tote me around like a rag doll. If Mauricio had invitedme up with his words, I wouldn’t look so pissed right now.” “It’s my building,” I reply. “I can do whatever I want.” She frowns. “You are a grade-A asshole.” My c**k stirs as I imagine disciplining her for talking to me like that. I push those thoughts away. I’llgive her the interview. The sooner this is over, the better. Then she can be out of my life for good. Nodistractions. “The clock is ticking, Ms. Wright.” I tap my watch. “If I were you, I wouldn’t waste any more timeinsulting me.” Alexis blinks, as though she’d forgotten why she was here in the first place. She is gripping her shoesin one hand and drops them, scrambling through her purse for her notepad. She retrieves it and looksup at me. “I presume I can’t record this?” she grumbles. “You catch on quick.” Her jaw tightens, but she doesn’t retort. Clearing her throat, she says, “Since we last spoke, you hadan uncharacteristic public meltdown. Could you comment on what happened at the school?” “I could comment, but I won’t. You can ask the school or Channel 5 if you want to know more.” “Why do I get the feeling you’ve bought their silence?” “I’m afraid I’m not the right person to ask when it comes to understanding your feelings.” She purses her lips. They are pink and juicy, and I want to bite them. “Okay, fine.” She shuffles the papers in her lap and slides one across to me. “Because you initiallyrefused my follow-up interview, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands to dig up more information aboutyou and Belluci, Inc. Three years ago, the IRS was investigating your company for potential taxevasion. A year later, the case was dropped. Did you buy them off, too?” “Yes,” I reply coolly. “There was a misunderstanding and we paid our taxes. That’s how it tends towork with the IRS.” In truth, my father had been siphoning funds from the business to an offshore account behind my backto avoid taxes, hoping to maximize our budget for war against the Irish. I remember being livid when Ifound out. Alexis must have done a lot of digging to find that nugget, as I had to spend a lot of moneyto sweep it under the rug. Once more, I am both irritated and impressed. “That’s not the only suspicious thing I uncovered,” she continues. “Over the past couple of years,several of Belluci, Inc.’s employees have died in what look to be tragic accidents.” She glances downat her pad. “The most recent of which involved a Mr. Victor Holt. He and his whole family werekilled in a gas explosion.” “As you say, tragic accidents.” “But who is to blame for the accidents?” she asks. “I wonder if these employees found out somethingthey shouldn’t have.” I laugh. I can’t help it. “Would you paint me as some sort of Bond villain, Ms. Wright?” I ask. “Doyou think Victor Holt stumbled across the secret underground lair where I keep my plans for worlddomination?” Her jaw tics in annoyance. “I don’t know what to believe. That’s what I’m trying to find out.” “And you hope to expose me in your little article?” I sit forward, skewering her with my gaze. “Is thisstill even about your article?” Alexis blinks, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. Interesting. “What else would it be about?” she asks. “You tell me.” I sit back. “Somehow, I don’t think your editor is looking for a scandalous expose onyour charity’s new donor.” “I’m looking out for the paper’s interests,” she replies. “If there’s something fishy going on with youor your business, somehow I do think my editor would rather expose it than be implicated in it.” “I admire your colorful imagination, Ms. Wright, but I’m just a businessman. You won’t find anyskeletons here.” If she knew where to look, this pesky journalist could find more skeletons than she would know whatto do with. I am wary of her determination. It seems very personal and that unsettles me. “Correction,” she says, eyes meeting mine fiercely. “There is at least one skeleton. Two years ago,your father, a well-respected businessman, disappeared. His body was found eight months lateroutside your family’s hunting cabin in the Poconos, despite there being no trace of him there in theinitial search. Initially, investigators suspected foul play, but due to the degradation of the evidence,your statement about your father’s mental health prior to his disappearance, and the positioning of thebody, the case was ruled a suicide.” I go cold. Alexis continues. “Cause of death was a bullet to the head.” My fists clench under the desk but I keep a calm façade. “Do you believe it was a suicide?” she asks. “Or do you think your father was murdered?” “I believe the police.” “Was there anyone who might have wanted your father dead?” The sheer f*****g audacity of this woman. I shake my head. “I have entertained this nonsense long enough,” I say, picking up the receiver on myphone. I dial security and hang up. “What are you doing?” Alexis asks. Before I can answer, a guard steps into the office. Alexis’ eyes flare open. “What? Now you’re just going to have me dragged out like you had medragged in?” she growls. “That is the most astute observation you’ve made this entire time.” I flip open my laptop screen, hearthammering in my chest. I can’t show that she has gotten to me. The guard—Vinny, I think his name is—grabs her by the arm and hauls her from the chair. “I should have known from the second I first laid eyes on you that you weren’t someone worthknowing,” Alexis snarls suddenly, fighting against Vinny’s grip. “I wondered so many times after thatnight what you would say if you knew that I’d had your baby, but now I know that you wouldn’t give asingle shit.” My eyes snap to hers. Baby? “For the record, next time you use a fake name to pick up chicks, I would recommend something alittle sexier than ‘Gabe.’” Suddenly, it clicks. Alexis. The girl from Fiamma’s name was Alexis. She had longer hair then, andwas wearing a lot more makeup, but it’s her. How did I not see it sooner? Vinny is looking at me with wide eyes, unsure how to react to the scene. If there’s one thing I’velearned about this woman, it’s that she doesn’t like to lose, and this bombshell is probably just afabricated manipulation to get a reaction from me. It won’t work. “Get her out of here,” I order. Vinny continues to drag Alexis to the door. “Good, I want to leave!” she spits. “After what happened at that school, I don’t want you anywherenear my son!” Her eyes burn into mine. We stare at one another for what feels like hours, and though I feel the venomfrom her gaze as though it lashes through my blood, I find something else there, too, that I can’t quitedecipher. Is it desperation? Hope? Then she is gone from my office, and the door whispers closed. A son.