Arrogant

by Drea Blackery

  A soft groan slipped out of me. “If you're trying to tempt me into screwing you right against the wall,” I said hoarsely, “you're doing a damned good job of it.”

  “I'm not,” Allie said again, but she didn't sound like she believed herself.

  That's when I realized that this shit between us was happening.

  I was going to fuck Allie—multiple times—and I wasn't even going to be sorry about it.

  “What's your answer to my offer, Allie cat?” I said, my voice ragged with lust. “Yes or no?”

  Her teeth nibbled at her lower lip as she considered, turning me harder.

  “The suite will be fully serviced with a security system,” I continued, my voice strained. “You and your sister will be safe here.”

  “I'm not sure,” Allie said quietly, twisting her fingers again. “I don't like being indebted to someone.”

  “You won't be indebted to me. This is in return for dragging you into this mess, so we're even if you take up my offer.”

  “Maybe there's something I can do for you—” Allie began, then blushed again when she realized how that sounded.

  Shit, there was only so much I could take. I was just a hair's breadth away from cornering her and—

  “I meant I could come work for you,” she corrected. “Doing admin, or PA—”

  “No,” I said instantly. “I don't need any distractions at my workplace.”

  And Allie Beckett was going to be one hell of a distraction.

  Her chin lifted an inch. “I may not have a degree, but I'm good at my job,” she said, looking stubborn and cute as fuck.

  Damn it.

  Maybe I could shove her away in some obscure department where I wouldn't have to see her.

  “I'll think about it,” I muttered. “Come to my office tomorrow at eight. And one more thing. From now on, my chauffeur will take you and your sister around. No more subway rides, it’s too risky.”

  ”Driving?” Allie stared at me. “In New York? That will take forever!”

  “This isn’t a fucking game, Allie cat,” I said shortly. “Your life is at stake here, do I need to remind you?”

  Allie stiffened as she glared. “No, you don’t, because you dragged me into this in the first place. I can handle myself, okay?”

  “Says the woman who spent away her trust fund.”

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t have a trust fund.”

  My brows snapped together. “The fuck? That wasn’t what I heard.”

  “Yeah, well, you heard wrong,” Allie said shortly. “I held two jobs for the first few years here, and we survived just fine, so please don’t tell me how to take care of myself.”

  I stared at her, the ugly fact dawning on me.

  Estelle had gotten to their trust fund too.

  Shit, this was getting more screwed up by the second.

  “Take a taxi,” I said tightly. “I’m not compromising on that.”

  Allie obviously didn’t like the idea, but she gave a short nod. “Fine. And thanks for helping me out earlier. Though I could have done without the need for helping,” she added with an accusing look.

  I flexed my jaw and addressed a point over her head. “If I'd known, I wouldn't have risked your life.”

  “Was that an apology?”

  “I don’t apologize for anything, Allie cat.”

  Allie pursed her lips in irritation, idly fingering the hem of her skirt.

  Did this woman's hands ever stop moving? It was like she had too much nervous energy inside her.

  Suddenly feeling tired as shit, I gave her the unit number of the spare apartment and turned to leave.

  “Langdon will send your sister up when they arrive,” I called as I strode to the door. “Shut the door behind you when you leave. It locks automatically.”

  As for me, I still had shit to settle before calling it a night.

  Like getting Cam to find out the names of the two bastards earlier and sending them behind bars for the longest time possible.

  And after that, arranging to meet with the poisonous bitch herself.

  “Wait,” Allie called.

  I turned and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  She cleared her throat, clasping her hands behind her. “I want to buy back my portrait, since you have no use for it now.”

  A slow, evil smile spread across my face.

  She made it so fucking easy.

  “But I do have a use for it,” I said in a husky voice, running a glance down her body again. “Wanna guess? It’s in my bedroom right now…”

  I licked my lower lip, staring at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Right...across...my bed.”

  Allie’s eyes went wide. “You—”

  “Yep.”

  I smirked at her as I exited, leaving her gaping behind me.

  I strode towards the restaurant at The Plaza Hotel an hour later for my meeting with Estelle Valentine.

  Putting a lion on a leash didn't change the fact that it could still take you down when it snapped. The bitch knew that, and she'd quickly agreed to my email to meet. The little stunt she'd pulled had pissed the fuck out of Cam and Gabriel when I told them, but more importantly, it pissed the fuck out of me.

  Striding past the ceiling-high palm trees and trellis dividers, I came to the table under the restaurant's signature stained glass dome.

  A platinum blonde sat at the table with her back to me, two empty glasses and a bottle of Château Margaux at the ready.

  Nice try, bitch, but I'm not picking up the tab for that.

  I took the chair across Estelle.

  Neither one of us said a word as we watched the other, assessing, looking for points of weakness. I knew that she would find none on me—I’d cut my teeth on years of mind games at the negotiation table.

  Estelle Valentine’s, on the other hand, was such an easy read that it was downright unsporting.

  At first glance, she could almost pass off as unchanged from ten years ago, with the same style of platinum blond hair bleached to within an inch of its life, and the same bright red lips and claws.

  Getting up close was a different story.

  Estelle had to be in her early fifties by now, but her skin was completely wrinkle-free, looking stretched and waxy under the chandelier lighting in the restaurant. Her makeup was slapped on like war paint, and gaudy jewelry dripped from every limb, their purpose being distraction rather than enhancement.

  The overall effect reminded me of a stage actor in full stage makeup—striking from afar, and straight-up creepy from up close. Even a five-year-old could tell that Estelle Valentine had become a shell of her former self, and was desperately trying to grasp onto what she used to be.

  I had to tell myself not to smile at that.

  “Wine?” she finally asked.

  “Pass.” I angled my head. “I don't drink with cunts.”

  Estelle smiled faintly, her shiny skin stretching even tighter. She gestured at a nearby waiter to pour her drink. “You're still as straightforward as ever. I like that about you.”

  “Pretty sure I can't say the same to you.”

  At my words, a flirty pout formed on her bright red lips. It made me want to take a long, cleansing shower.

  “That's too bad,” she said, wrapping her talons around her glass. “You were always my favorite.”

  “What about Theo?” I leveled a cool stare at her. “What about your son who sold us out for you?”

  Estelle shrugged a shoulder lightly. “He did what he had to.”

  Bitch.

  Theo betrayed us, nothing changed that fact. But having a parent that was nearly as fucked up as Estelle made me sympathetic.

  Estelle had messed Theo up, plain and simple, and now she was trying to fuck us over too.

  “You haven't changed either,” I remarked in an even tone, though my blood was simmering on the inside. “Still the same crazy, screwed up bitch.”

  Estelle took her time to answer, playing with her wine, swirlin
g it in the glass.

  Then finally, “How is Alecia?”

  I had to force my muscles to remain relaxed.

  Estelle wasn’t dumb enough to say anything to sabotage herself, so I’d skipped the wire. But that also meant she would be peppering our meeting with as many indirect confessions as she could to piss me off.

  “Alive and well,” I said in a calm tone. “Disappointed?”

  “Whatever you think about me, I want you to know that I don't get any pleasure from this. Alecia’s a good girl, and I don't want to see her hurt.”

  My lips twisted coldly.

  Was she seriously playing the victim here?

  “This shit is between you and us,” I said casually. “If you go after the sisters again, we’ll bury you so deep you'll regret you ever looked in their direction.”

  “Careful with your threats,” Estelle smiled. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have the weapon in my possession. It still has the fingerprints of you boys all over it.”

  Of course I hadn’t forgotten that bloody gun. It was the source of all our problems.

  “Right back atcha. I found out an interesting fact earlier. You helped yourself to the sisters' trust fund, didn't you?” I angled my head. “Who did you have to fuck to get it? The lawyer? His entire team?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” Estelle said, her smile looking forced now.

  I grinned in disbelief. “Like hell you don't. Your bank account must have looked pretty damned good all those years ago. And yet here you are, resurfacing like a cockroach. I’m guessing it doesn't look that good ten years on.” I regarded her with a cold smile. “Not unlike yourself.”

  Her expression tightened at my cheap—but effective—taunt.

  Like the evil queen from those kids fairy tales, Estelle had always been the vain queen bitch. It was killing her to age, and her overdone face was proof. I got a sick satisfaction out of knowing that.

  “I'm not here to exchange schoolyard insults, Wyatt,” she finally said.

  “No, you're here to check on the progress with the money, and to warn me away from Allie.”

  I rested my forearms on the table and stared right at her. “I'm going to make this quick. You're not getting anything out of us, not even the shit scraped from the bottom of our shoes.”

  Estelle’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn't be so cocky. If I release the information to the media, you’ll be completely destroyed.”

  “And you'll go down with us,” I countered. “I suggest you back off from Allie and Karin while we're still willing to play nice. The moment we link those two shooters to you, you're done. You don't want to be making such a mistake again.”

  “Does Alecia know what you did to her father?” Estelle said suddenly, throwing out her earlier act of friendliness. “Does she know that the whole gun-cleaning accident story had been a lie? Maybe I should tell her what really happened. We'll see if she's still standing on your side after that.”

  “Do it,” I said softly, “and I'll send you straight to hell myself.”

  “What's wrong? Do you care about what she thinks of you?” Estelle smiled behind her hand. “I know you don't have anything on me, Ryland. We wouldn't be having this conversation otherwise.”

  “True. If I did, we'd be in a courtroom right now, and I'd be watching the life leech from your face as they put you away in a cage for the rest of your worthless existence.”

  I leaned forward. “But don't worry. Once I get it, trust me, you'll know.”

  “If you get it. You won't find anything on me.”

  “Are you ready to bet your life on that?”

  Estelle shrugged one shoulder as she tapped her bright-red claws on the table. “You three are the ones with everything to lose.”

  “Which also means you have nothing.” I tilted my head, watching her closely. “What about Theo? Is he broke too, or is it just you? Where is he when you need him?”

  Her hand stilled. “Changing the subject, Ryland?”

  My gaze sharpened with interest.

  Estelle had avoided my question, which could mean one of two scenarios.

  Either Theo was not in this with her, or he was in the dark about it.

  It was the only piece of good news I've had all month.

  “Here's your warning,” I finally said. “Walk away, and we'll forget any of this ever happened. But if you decide to play this game with us, we're going to bury you so deep you'll wish you never started this shit all those years ago.”

  Estelle eyed me carefully, and I knew she was trying to figure out how much of it was real and how much was just a threat.

  Unfortunately for her, I knew how to make my threats real. It was in my job description, after all.

  But apparently Estelle was dumber than I thought, because she twirled her wine glass between her fingers and said, “Then I guess you'd better do it right. Don't forget that I have the upper hand here, Wyatt. Whatever you just threatened me with can and will happen to you. It's either you or me.”

  As expected, she wouldn’t back down.

  I couldn't help an icy smile at that.

  This was like a game of chicken, the shit the guys and I played back in San Juan. Two of us would rev our cars and charge each other at top speed, neither one backing down.

  The only way we could both survive was if one of us gave in first and swerved away. Otherwise, both drivers would go up in flames.

  I'd never lost at that game.

  Not once.

  “If anything happens to me or my friends,” I said softly, “I'll make sure you're right there with us.”

  Estelle’s smile didn't waver. “Three months. I'll give you boys three months to get the money ready. I know you'll see reason.”

  Like hell.

  I got up and tossed the napkin on the table. I'd accomplished what I came here to do, and I was so done with this bitch.

  “Keep waiting. I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you.” Then I paused. “On second thought, maybe you should. The world would be a prettier place, for one.”

  Estelle narrowed her eyes. “I'll see you soon, Wyatt. Say hi to Alecia for me.”

  “I'll do you one better,” I said casually as I adjusted my cuffs and lapels. “I'll say hi to Theo.”

  I got the satisfaction of seeing her expression twist in fury as I turned to leave.

  I stood on the crowded sidewalk at 7:45am the next morning with my head tipped back.

  A massive skyscraper stood before me, an imposing structure of glass and steel. Smartly-dressed men and women weaved their way around me on the sidewalk, and several of them brushed past me and headed through the automatic glass doors of the building that loomed over us.

  So this was Wyatt Tower.

  I'd read about it before on the news, probably even seen its spire in one of those city skyline photos, but I'd never been up close before.

  It was taller than I expected and more than a little intimidating, not unlike the CEO himself. Ryland had to be loaded to have this building to his name.

  And another thing?

  From my research last night, Wyatt Corp also owned the apartments Karin and I were now staying in, a fact Ryland had left out.

  I had a hell of a time explaining to Karin why he'd suddenly shown up in our lives with a five-star service suite—and a murderous woman in tow.

  Unsurprisingly, Karin had been dismayed throughout my explanation.

  “I don't understand,” she’d said after I was done. “Estelle? Dad's Estelle? But why?”

  “To send a message to Ryland. That's what he thinks, at least. And there were other things he refused to tell me, like what he's being blackmailed for in the first place.” I'd narrowed my eyes in suspicion. “Maybe I should find us a new place.”

  “I think we should stay.” Karin had hugged her knees. “Ryland's living in the penthouse level, isn't he? If he's close by, maybe he can look out for us.”

  “I doubt looking out for us is on his agenda,” I'd replied
glumly. “The only thing that interested him was how I could be useful in taking Estelle down, and now he knows I'm not.”

  “I just want you to be safe, Allie.”

  “And I want the same for you.” I'd reached out and squeezed her hand, forcing a smile on my face. “We'll get through this like we always do. Everything will be fine.”

  If only I were half as convinced as I'd sounded.

  I squinted up at the skyscraper again, clasping tightly onto my purse and mentally rallying myself.

  Rule Number One: Do not let my guard down around Ryland.

  Ever.

  Sure, he'd used his body to shield me from a potential hail of bullets, but the fact remained that he was the one who had gotten me into that mess in the first place.

  And Rule Number Two: Do not Ryland get under my skin.

  Though I’d probably broken that rule multiple times over by now. That guy could made me lose my composure with scary ease, as demonstrated by his heavy flirting last night.

  Feeling even more nervous now, I headed through the glass doors and into the grand lobby, striding past the seating area and on to the reception desk.

  Two ladies dressed in professional uniforms sat behind the counter, and I gave the first one what I hoped was an assured smile.

  “Good morning. I'm Alecia Beckett, and I have a meeting with Mr. Wyatt at eight.”

  There. Friendly and professional.

  I forced my fingers not to fidget as I waited for the receptionist to check her computer. Her expression was the perfect level of welcoming-but-unassuming when she looked back up at me.

  “Mr. Wyatt's expecting you. Here's your pass, please proceed past the gantry and go to the top floor.”

  I headed where she'd directed and soon found myself packed in a large elevator with a dozen office workers who got off periodically. The elevator finally chimed at the fiftieth floor, and I stepped out into a smaller version of the main lobby downstairs.

  A beautiful redhead with impeccable hair and makeup sat behind the front desk.

  “Alecia Beckett?” she said in a tone significantly less friendly than the lady earlier.