Maybe he’d been presumptuous in believing that she felt the same. He’d thought that they’d found something real. When they’d been together, she’d been just as enamored, needy, and wanting. Before she’d left, he’d intended to act on his feelings and ask that they’d build on what they’d found. For the first time, he’d believed that happiness was within his reach.
But, his thoughts had been faulty.
Fate and reality had different plans.
She had her own plans.
Plans that didn’t involve or include him…
Instead, she wanted to build a life with his criminal father.
For goodness sakes, why!
There was nothing sensible about that!
His troubled gaze sought the outside darkness again.
Only more confusion came.
Nothing that she was saying or doing was making sense!
In one instance, she acted like she cared about them, and he’d fed off it.
He’d done the unthinkable---the impossible---and shared his painful past.
It was something that he’d never done before.
Apart from his mother and Cassius, no one else knew the ugly horrors that he’d been forced to live as a child. But, he’d wanted her to know. Maybe he was a fool to do so, but he trusted her that much. As he’d recounted details about his childhood, she’d wept silently while listening, and more than once, she’d reached out to comfort him. The pain on her face mirrored exactly what he’d felt inside.
Deep down, he knew that she’d understood.
He’d found great comfort in that.
Then, he’d played his trump card.
Sure, maybe trying to seduce her had been wrong on his part considering. Just as he’d suspected, though, she’d been besieged with the same raging hunger. In every fiber of her body, the need had reverberated and met him openly. There was no doubt---she craved him.
Didn’t that prove that she cared?
But, just when he believed so, she’d turned.
Like a light switch, she’d turned her emotions off and shut him out. Then, he’d been left facing a cold, frigid, and unfeeling woman. A woman that wanted absolutely no part of him…
The fact hurt like hell.
“Who are you, Bella Spencer?” he asked pained and turned away from the window. Distressed further, he drank in the sight of the beautifully adorned living space. Still, his haunting thoughts were full. “Were you just a fantasy that I conjured in my head?”
The Italian opera reached a high point.
Non-stop, without pause, the singer belted out the long grueling note---one so long that it seemed that his lungs would splinter. Only pure lunacy sounded from the singer’s vocal chords…loud…unrelenting…passionate…longing…lost…
The sound intensified in his head and blended with his thoughts.
For a moment, it seemed that he’d found madness.
Blinking fast, he clasped his head and found it sweaty.
Suddenly, he felt woozy and off-balanced.
His gaze skittered around wildly.
In flashes, he remembered the dark and foreboding evening. The strained laughter…the pitiful attempt to sow normalcy…the sense of doom…As they’d dined, he’d felt like choking on every delicacy that he’d forced down. The pretense had killed his already mourning soul.
Along with them, he’d played the game.
“The great pretenders,” he muttered with budding hostility. “Maybe we’re all fucked up with little to no hope.” Suddenly, his pity was replaced with fiery anger.
Releasing a violent curse, he hurled the empty alcohol bottle and sent it whistling through the air. It hit the nearest bookcase with a hard crash, and somehow the impact was heard over the loud music.
In a drunken stupor, he staggered towards the bookcase. Stopping short, he surveyed the mess. On the floor, the bottle was nothing more than sharp jagged pieces. As he stepped amidst the scattered glassy mess, he stared down and gave a broken laugh, yet there was no satisfaction in it.
For wasn’t he broken as well?
The door to the living area flew open suddenly.
Angered by the sudden intrusion, he whirled around, only to find Mauricio standing in the doorway and regarding him with a surprised expression. Still, though, he said nothing and just gave the man a stony stare.
The attendant’s gaze skirted from him onto the messy floor.
“Is everything alright, Sir Titan?” Mauricio asked cautiously, and somehow his voice met him over the loud music. “It seems that there’s been some accident here---”
Now tired of the operatic song, he switched it off.
The blistering silence was even worse.
“Don’t worry about it,” he quipped tightly, crunching the glass as he passed through it. His every step seemed to carry his own doom. “It’s my fucking mess. I’ll clean it up. Just give me a minute.”
On unsteady feet, he meandered towards the bar. After reaching it, he leaned against the counter for several seconds. Satisfied once gathering his half-witted bearings, he then wandered behind the bar. He swiped the first full whiskey bottle from the mid-shelf, and to his horror, found that his hands held a nervous tremor.
It was a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by the attendant.
“Perhaps I’m overstepping my boundaries, sir,” Mauricio began with obvious disapproval, and his features turned sterner. “Drinking has always been a great numbing source against seemingly insurmountable problems. However, in this case, I think that you’ve had enough for one evening---”
“Is that what he pays you for---sticking your fucking nose in business where it doesn’t belong? But, you’re right. My plan is to drink until I’m in a comatose state. You have a problem with that?” he asked coldly, glaring down at the bottle, and swayed on his feet. Frowning, he held back another curse while staring at the bottle’s markings. The words were too hard to make out and read, he sulked, holding the bottle out from him. But, the lettering was still a blurry mess, and that only set him off more. So, he released his ire on the closest and easiest target. Fuming, he shot the attendant an impatient look. “News flash, errand boy, I don’t need a keeper.”
“Sir, you’re not well.” The attendant cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Your father can’t be contacted since he’s occupied with, uh, business. Perhaps, you’d like to speak with Ms. Spencer, instead. Undoubtedly, she may be the very calming spirit that you need. We’ve all realized that a time or two while being in her presence.”
He froze behind the bar.
Of course, that was the case.
After all, she was the lady of the house.
Stiffening further, he passed Mauricio a dead stare. At this very moment, she was the last person that he wanted or needed to see. Didn’t she already have his mind staunched in enough chaos? He was on the verge of losing his shit. Losing total control here, though, wasn’t a viable option. Not in the house of his greatest enemy…
A dead calm came over him at once.
Suddenly, he went stone cold sober.
“Again, I have no desire to see my sweet dear step-mommy.” Though the heavy sarcasm dripped from his words easily, he was completely numb and dead inside. It was a feeling that he was long accustomed to. “Don’t disturb her. I’m sure that she wants her beauty rest.”
“Titan, need I remind you that you’re a guest in this house,” Mauricio cautioned again, and he sounded more stiff-necked than before. “Speaking of Ms. Spencer in such a manner is unconscionable.”
“Everything about this place is unconscionable.” Still, though, he relented and placed the bottle back on the shelf. The world fuzzed before him as he left the bar and ventured towards the sofa. As he walked across the room, the entire space teetered off base. To his relief, he managed to find the sofa and land in a safe position. When he looked in the direction of the attendant again, he winced against the bright lights. “Sorry for the bullshit, alright? I have a lot on my mind. However, there’s no point in
me taking it out on you.”
“Again, I think that Ms. Spencer---”
“Damn it, I said no,” he said forcefully, and then struggled for calmness. Falling back against the cushions, he managed a tired breath. “That’s all for tonight, Mauricio. I’m crashing down here. Turn the lights off on your way out, will you?”
Mauricio hesitated for a brief second. “Of course, sir.”
After shutting the lights off, the attendant made a quiet departure.
Groaning, laying on his right side, he assumed a more comfortable position on the sofa. But, still, thoughts of her crowded his mind out. “Get out of my fucking head, damsel,” he whispered quietly, staring into the silent darkness. “You have no place in it. Not anymore.”
Yet, his words rang hollow.
In his mind, she was fully alive.
At every angle and corner, she plagued it.
There was no refuge.
Chapter 16
Jameson’s Incorporations exceeded her expectations.
She’d been expecting a towering modern high-rise, but not such a magnificent, wondrous, and beautiful monstrosity. It was perfectly nestled amidst other modernistic structures located on the bustling industrial complex of northern Atlanta. The multi-story tubular-shaped structure housed 35 levels, and its crystalline glass glistened and reflected a perfect image of the cold afternoon sun. Upon entry, she was impressed with the interior layout, and she sensed high professionalism from nearly every employee that she passed. The office complex was white, sterile, and clean. Without a doubt, he’d been intentional with such a design approach.
A far cry from a gangster-style set-up that one would typically assume, she noted, stepping onto the elevator, and selected the 25th level as directed. Once again, they were dead wrong about him, and she was going to prove it.
As she punched the oval button, the nervousness in the pit of her stomach worsened.
How could they face one another, especially after last night?
Earlier, this morning, she’d stayed abed once realizing that he was still at the mansion. She’d skipped breakfast entirely, and after finally finding the courage to come down around mid-morning, he’d holed himself up in his father’s study with instructions not to be disturbed. Like her, he was intent on full avoidance. Why she’d been hurt was totally unreasonable on her part, especially since she’d done the same thing.
With Carlo out of the house, he’d become the exceedingly impatient tyrant. An unbelievable tension had gripped the entire place, and even Mauricio had acted somewhat on edge. The attendant performed as if he was walking on egg shells, but he’d quickly adhered to Braden’s blistering demands. Around eleven a.m., he’d sent word by Mauricio about his departure and left her with instructions to join him at Jameson’s Incorporations. So, while dining alone during brunch, she’d attempted to devise a survival plan, one where she wouldn’t be a total fool around him.
Now, it was mid-afternoon, one-thirtyish or so.
She fingered the pearl earring in her left lobe.
Hopefully, her simple updo hairstyle and black sheath dress were appropriate for the office. Along with the string of pearls and two-inch heels, she carried an expensive black tote bag. Still, she was a basket case, she decided, watching the lights alternate as the elevator ascended.
A moment later, she’d reached her destination.
As she traveled down the narrow corridor, she acknowledged those that she passed with a polite nod. Keeping her eyes averted, she passed a series of offices before the area converged at a point. The area spread wide and long to include a huge seating area, a ton of computer stations that lined the glass walls, and surprisingly, a bevy of eatery shops all around. From Japanese cuisine, sub sandwiches, Italian delicacies, and greasy burgers, there was no limit in dining choices. To no surprise, the hub was bustling with employees, both young and old, ranging from differing ethnicities and nationalities.
She stopped beside the small help station.
Nervously, she glanced around.
Where was he?
Suddenly, an elegantly dressed African-American goddess broke from a small nearby crowd and slinked in her direction. Around twenty-six or so, the young woman reminded her of a sexy bodacious R&B singer, complete with an hour-glass figure, flawless skin, and a beautiful face to boot. Her hair was raven black and met her hips; it was shiny and bone straight. Dressed in a short, white cutting dress that was both stylish and elegant, the woman offered a smile and a handshake. “You must be Ms. Spencer,” the woman said politely, grasping her hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Alicia Graystone, Titan’s executive assistant, so let me give you a big welcome first.”
“Thank you,” she nodded courteously, returning the woman’s handshake, and then looked around the area. The noise was boisterous, and it mainly came from the millennial crowd of mostly males, and their natural camaraderie was noticeable. Even in the work environment, he’d created a sense of family, she noted with pride. Again, the idea of him being a cold unfeeling criminal was being shot to pieces. With a tiny smile, she addressed the woman. “Nice set up here.”
“Agreed.” The woman’s beautiful smile came naturally. “All of us here, we bow to the greatness of our mighty Sir Titan. We couldn’t ask for a better place to work and express our creativity.” She clasped her hands together and pivoted towards the left. “Come with me and I’ll show you around. Titan wanted you to get a feel of how we operate before seeing you.”
She frowned. “I thought that his office was on this level.”
“Oh no, sugar,” Alicia said with a faint laugh, and it was tinged with admiration. “This doesn’t even begin to detail the space that he solely accommodates. Try the 30th floor and onward---it’s all his. They don’t refer to him as Sir Titan for nothing. Now, follow me.”
Enthralled in complete awe, she trailed behind the woman.
Certainly, she wasn’t expecting any of this.
“Jameson’s, Inc. is a conglomerate of businesses. We deal with both an international and home base. We offer services from technology advancement, software development, and yes, national and international trading systems…I could go on and on.” The woman’s tone was business-like now. “Titan’s main goal is to change the world’s perception. In his eyes, there’s no such thing as limitations.” She paused at the nearest elevator. “We’re all just happy to be along for the ride. There’s no doubt in our minds that he’s going to carry this business to high places.” As the elevator dinged and its door slid open, they stepped on. A small crowd burgeoned inside, and they politely made room for them. “The bottom levels, Levels 1-24, that’s where we handle software development and other sources of technology.”
“The 25th floor is the company hang-out,” Alicia continued. “Most employees choose to chill and dine there for lunch. But, of course, you’re not limited to that. If you want to brave the lunch hour madness and traffic, that’s your option, too. “Once you venture past the 25th floor, you’ll find our national and international trading division.” For the first time, the assistant tensed beside her. “I’ll be truthful. It can get pretty stressful at times, and not just anyone can handle it. We all refer to it as the Eruption Zone. You either learn the ropes or burn in the fire. Let’s just say this part is Titan’s personal baby, and it’s the one that he focuses his attention on the most.”
Interesting, she mulled quietly, letting the info sink in.
Without a doubt, there was a reason for that.
As the elevator neared the 30th floor, the crowd inside of it thinned out.
When they reached the 29th level, the woman’s cell phone rang.
Cuffing the phone, Alicia frowned before stepping to the corner. “Excuse me for a moment, Ms. Spencer. I have to take this.”
“Of course,” she said easily.
As the woman conversed, she focused her attention elsewhere and granted her what little privacy she could. The phone conversation was obviously an important one; the
tension played on the woman’s face easily. Rather than speaking in sentences, Alicia only gave cryptic, one word answers, and it was an action that she tried not to find strange. When the call ended, the assistant fought to hide her scowl. “Sorry about that,” Alicia relayed, drawing to her side again. “I simply hate interruptions. They break my flow.” She bit back a curse. “What would the world be without a certain level of bullshit?” Then, she gave an uncomfortable smile. “Just let me warn you now. Titan’s not in the best of moods this morning. Something’s set him off. It pains me to say this, but he’s been very intolerable today. I’ve been trying to give him as much space as needed.”
Was she wrong to think that they could interact again this soon?
Last night, they’d parted on horrible terms.
While she was eager to work on the case, sometimes caution was the best take, especially when there were turbulent waters. In their case, it was a tsunami.
“Is this a good time?” Casting a side glance, she gulped hard. “If so, I can come back---”
“Pardon my French, but hell to the no, sugar,” Alicia said, giving a fast smack, and then laughed. “That man would have my head on a platter if I didn’t deliver you. Sorry, but I’m feeding you to the lion.”
Yet, would she survive the lion’s attack?
That’s what was most concerning…
“Quickly, while we have a few seconds,” Alicia murmured, glancing at the bright oval circles as they counted off the floors. “I’ll give you a fast run-down about Titan’s part of this building in order, beginning with Level 30 and onward. We have the conference room first, his private office on the 31st floor, and a highly customized gym on the next. The swimming area, sauna, and Jacuzzi on the 33rd floor will bedazzle you, honey. But, no one is allowed there except an elite few. After that, it’s a no-tread zone on the 34th floor, and that’s where you will find the CEO apartment. Finally, there’s the terrace where you can stand and admire the beautiful city.”
As the elevator dinged, her heartbeat quickened, and as the attendant continued speaking, she tried to keep her composure. But, as the seconds ticked off, she wasn’t sure she’d survive.
Rise of the Titan Page 39
