Tension twisted between us like an invisible rope, so tangible I felt its abrasive scrape as it snaked around my chest. The moment stretched a second into eternity before Stella averted her gaze. Her knuckles turned white around her clutch, but her voice was calm and even when she spoke again. “You never told me what the event is for.” She avoided my eyes as she looked around the room again. “Ocean conservation?” The stranglehold around my chest had loosened, but the release left me oddly dissatisfied. “Close. Baby turtles.” My mouth tipped up when her head whipped around. My answer eroded some of the earlier tension, and Stella’s grip on her purse visibly loosened. “I didn’t figure you for a turtle lover, Mr. Harper. What’s next?
Feeding ducks? Adopting puppies?” Her playful questions coaxed a wider smile from me. “Don’t hold your breath. I watched a lot of Franklin growing up.” Her face glowed with laughter. “Ah, that explains it. I was an Arthur girl myself.” I filed that away for future reference. There were no unimportant details when it came to Stella. “Aardvarks are underappreciated, but sadly, they’re
not a pet cause for Richard Wyatt’s wife. No pun intended,” I added. A knowing gleam entered her eyes. “I assume Richard Wyatt is important to your business. Potential client?”
I hid another smile at how quickly she pieced it together. “Yes. Big private equity guy, big money, looking for a new security team. His wife is his weakness.” I’d lasered in on the Wyatts the minute we entered. They held court in the northeast corner of the room, surrounded by fawning admirers, including the human equivalent of a lump of coal. Mike Kurtz, the CEO of Sentinel Security. My good mood faded at the sight of him. The bastard went after every account I did. There wasn’t a single original thought rattling beneath that overly gelled hair.
Kurtz looked up, and an oily smile spread across his face before he broke off from the group and strode toward me. We were both in our early thirties, but I already spotted the touches of cosmetic surgery propping up his fading looks—a chin augmentation here, some Botox there.
Beside me, Stella eyed the new arrival with curiosity, which deepened my foul mood. Kurtz didn’t deserve an ounce of her attention. “Christian! How nice to see you again.” He smoothed a hand over his tie, oozing as much sincerity as a commission-starved car salesman. “I’m so glad you’re not licking your wounds over the Deacon and Beatrix accounts. I hope you’re not too upset with me about poaching your clients.” His chuckle scraped against my skin like nails against chalkboard. “It’s nothing personal. Just business.” Irritation flared. I’d lost two accounts to Sentinel in one week. Deacon and Beatrix were trivial compared to the VIPs topping my company’s client list, but the losses pissed me off nonetheless. I didn’t like losing. “Of course not,” I said easily. I’d be damned if I showed even a smidge of weakness in Kurtz’s presence. “I don’t blame them for testing other services, but quality always wins in the end. Speaking of which, how’s the system rebuild going? It’s awful what can happen when your systems are subpar.” Kurtz’s face tightened. He was a bottom feeder, but he was smart enough to recognize I’d had a hand in causing the system failure that wiped millions off Sentinel’s market value last year. He just couldn’t prove it. “It’s going great,” he finally said. “But the strength of a company is measured by client retention, not by freak failures. I’m sure Richard Wyatt would agree.”
“I’m sure he would.” He smiled. I smiled. A bullet hole in his forehead would be the perfect complement to his vanity. He would die young and unravaged by old age. Forever thirty-three.
It’d be an act of mercy, delivered with the swiftness of one silenced gunshot. 40320 Eastshore Drive. Security code 708. So easy. One bullet in the middle of the night, one rival snuffed out forever. Temptation licked at the edges of my consciousness before I doused it. Sentinel and Harper Security were well-known competitors. If foul play befell Kurtz, I would be one of the first suspects, and I didn’t have time for the fucking paperwork that would bring. “Speaking of quality…” Kurtz turned to Stella, who’d been watching our exchange with a bemused expression. “Who is your stunning date?” She answered after several beats of hesitation. “I’m Stella.” She graced him with a tentative smile. Something dark and volatile burned in the pit of my stomach. “I’m Mike.” He oozed sleazy charm as he held out his hand. She didn’t get a chance to shake it before I cut in between them to whisk two glasses of champagne off a passing server’s tray. “I almost forgot to give my condolences,” I drawled. I handed one glass to Stella and twined my free hand with hers. “I heard about the…unfortunate incident with one of your clients. It’s a shame there aren’t more reliable bodyguards these days, but at least the client has most of his fingers left.” Stella slid a glance in my direction. She was the type of
person who had a smile and kind words for everyone, who paid for her old nanny’s care at her own expense and would give someone the shirt off her back. The vicious undercurrent of my conversation with Kurtz was probably as foreign to her as selfless charity was to me. I could only imagine how she’d react if she discovered some of the things I’d done.
Not that she ever would. There were some things she could never know. The warmth from her palm radiated up my arm and eased some of the black, restless energy churning in my chest. It felt wrong to touch her when I was this on edge, like my darkness would seep through my touch and devour her light. I forced myself to dial back the hostility, if only for her sake. I didn’t want to taint our first “date”。 Still, I couldn’t resist a final dig at Kurtz. “You might want to brush up on your employee training, though.” I took a languorous sip of my drink. “Sometimes, the greatest threat to a company isn’t external competition. It’s internal incompetence.” Kurtz’s face flushed a satisfying shade of crimson. “A pleasure as always, Harper.” Sarcasm dripped from his reply.
He nodded at Stella. “Stella, it was lovely meeting you. I hope to see you again soon, and with a more agreeable date.” My hand flexed around my champagne glass. Over my dead fucking body. “Friend of yours?” Stella asked wryly asked after Mike stormed off. “My least favorite one. Mike Kurtz, the CEO of Sentinel Security…” “Harper Security’s biggest competitor,” she finished. A pleasant warmth chipped away at my earlier irritation. “Been Googling me, Ms.
Alonso?” She lifted her chin, her cheeks turning an adorable brick-red. “I don’t enter pretend relationships without doing my research.” “Hmm.” I fought a laugh at her dignified tone. “Then you’ll know I attended MIT. Mike was a classmate. We competed for everything—grades, girls, internships. I was always a step ahead, and he hated it. He’s made it his life’s mission to one-up everything I do.” A wry note entered my voice. “He’s yet to succeed.” Unless he counted the Deacon and Beatrix accounts, which were nothing in the grand scheme of things. I was competition to him. He was an annoyance to me. Stella’s brow furrowed. “That sounds like an exhausting way to live.” “Perhaps.” People like Mike were too small-minded to devise their own goals, so they looked to those who were more successful than them for a roadmap instead.