Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lucian

Slipping the tracker inside Elaine’s purse was a bad decision. She was preoccupying me through every minute. I should’ve been satisfied with having her whereabouts at my fingertips, but I wasn’t. I wanted to be hunting her. Taunting her. Scaring her until she hurt.

It had been a lie, what I told her. I may have found her looking for a wife, but what I want from her now has nothing to do with the board of Morelli Holdings.

I’d been stalking Elaine from the moment she stepped outside the auction that night, tempting myself with fantasies of her pain and fear. I hadn’t so much as ventured close to the Morelli Holdings headquarters on that Thursday morning, staring up at her apartment block like a fool, just outside of her security radar while my chauffeur tried to sleep in the front seat.

It was fucking ridiculous. I wasn’t some Romeo. She wasn’t Juliet.

And I wasn’t going to be made CEO if I didn’t make our engagement public.

She left her place on Thursday evening to dash out to the waiting limousine and head off for her Roosevelt social function. My own chauffeur had been moving in seconds, screeching tires as we pulled away. I’d followed her from her city apartment through to Bishop’s Landing, keeping her in my sight until she’d pulled left into her uncle’s driveway—the asshole called Geoffrey that I’d heard plenty of rumors about over the years. By all accounts, her mother relied on her brother for some of the more nefarious parts of her business. Maybe Elaine’s attendance was a token social event to coast along on top of a more lucrative one.

I’d been hovering around the streets for hours, driving in circles with my exhausted chauffeur until her tracker finally told me she was leaving Geoffrey’s place. I followed her back into the city just to watch her dash from the car through to her apartment building.

One thing the pretty fool couldn’t hide—she was moving damn fast wherever she went. It brought a smile to my face. There was no doubt in my mind that she knew she was being followed. Instinct. She knew she was being chased by a monster.

My lack of attendance at Morelli Holdings on Friday morning was alien to everyone.

I had VPs calling my phone on constant loop. I barked out instructions, barely more than one-liner answers to complex situations, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t have time for any of them, not a fucking peep of it.

Who the hell was I?

Trenton was trying to chase me down for approval of another cross-border arms deal, but I didn’t have time for him either. I couldn’t give a shit who was delivering what and when. It was when he called me late that morning for a final okay that I found myself asking a whole load more from him in return. Much more than should ever have been on my radar.

“I want to know what’s happening between Elaine Constantine and the Power brothers,” I told him. “I want to know what the fuck she owes them and what the fuck they are planning to do about it.”

Trenton paused. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

I could hear the confusion in his voice. “Yeah, but. I just…if I track them down, they’re gonna know it’s coming from you.”

He was right. I knew he was right. Every scrap of common sense in my head was screaming out about my insanity, but still, I didn’t back down. “I want everything. I want to know everything,” I insisted, and he sighed.

I knew he thought I was as crazy as I did, but he knew better than to challenge me again. Sure thing, boss was the answer he gave me, and with that he was gone.

Friday morning was a bore and a slow burn. Elaine didn’t move until the sun was up high in the sky, walking on foot through New York City with her cousin Harriet.

I was a true damn stalker as I ditched my chauffeur in a city parking lot and followed her through the streets. I kept my distance, far enough behind that she didn’t stand any chance of catching my face, but again, her instincts were still pricking strong.

So many times she cast a glance behind her, wide eyes searching for her hunter.

So many times I dipped away out of her view.

It was when she was getting a dress fitting at one of the premier boutiques in the city that I finally opted to poke her fear some more. It wasn’t right. None of this was right, but I didn’t care. It turned me on. I thought it turned her on, too. That was the game we played.

I stepped up to the window, just close enough that she’d catch a glimpse of me. Then I waited. Waited until she stopped in the middle of a twirl, an instant halt which had the stylists as surprised as she was. My pretty blonde minx blinked and took a step forward, her shock so palpable that I could taste it in the air.

She rushed for the door toward me, but that didn’t matter. I was gone in a flash, just out of view as she dashed out onto the sidewalk.

I loved the self-fucking-doubt on her face as she stepped back inside. So much self-fucking-doubt she must have thought she was losing her mind.

I did it again when she was having a coffee with Harriet in one of the bars on East Street. I hovered on the other side of the street, my eyes firmly fixed on hers until she turned her head and caught a glimpse. This time she visibly flinched, getting up from her seat to rush in my direction, but again, I was gone.

Over and over I played my game through the streets. Chasing her. Teasing her. Watching the paranoia rise higher and higher. Cat and mouse had always been my favorite game, ever since I was a child. It gave me thrills all the way through my veins.

Here pussy, pussy.

So many times I gave her a glimpse. So many times she was rushing to find me.

Every single time she was a failure.

The evening drew in with both girls swinging a collection of designer bags along with them, Elaine laughing a little too brittle. She headed back to her apartment as soon as they were finished, hugging her farewell to Harriet before dashing inside.

I was still hovering outside her place when Elliot began trying to get hold of me. He called three times straight before my reality came crashing back in like a hammerblow. Fuck. Of course he was calling me. I was supposed to be out with him for his social meal.

I pressed to receive the damn call.

“Hey, finally,” he said with a groan. “You coming? We’re waiting on you before we order our main courses.”

I could hear the thrum of the restaurant in the background, and should’ve been heading right on over there, but I wasn’t. One look at the light on in the top windows of Elaine Constantine’s apartment building was enough to keep me in my seat.

“I’m not coming,” I said. “Enjoy your night.”

“Not coming? For real? What the hell?”

“For real,” I said. “Greater priorities.”

“Shit with Trenton?”

I didn’t lie. I never lie. “Other shit that needs sorting.”

He knew me so fucking well. I heard it in his voice as he sighed. “You still caught up with that Constantine girl? Please tell me you’re not caught up with Elaine.”

“Enjoy your night,” I told him again, then hung up.

I didn’t answer when he called back, just put my phone on mute and stared up at that window. I wanted to see her. I wanted to hear her short breaths and feel her fear. Surely she’d leave. Surely she’d head on out somewhere on a Friday evening and allow the cat another tease with his paws, but no. My time was wasted. She didn’t leave her place again that night.

Elliot called me again on Saturday morning, when I’d finally gathered enough sanity to head back to my own apartment for a shower. I tried to keep my tone regular as I answered him.

“Early damn call,” I said. “Calling to give me an update on your pussy exploits?”

“Don’t even try to change the subject,” he barked, and this time his voice was tense as hell.

“What subject?” I asked. “You haven’t even said anything.”

“You know exactly why the fuck I’m calling.”

I laughed. “And you know it’s none of your fucking business,” I said, and he scoffed at me.

“Sure. Call me when you want some sense pushed into that skull of yours.” He hung up.

I doubted I’d be calling him anytime soon.

Elaine didn’t move through Saturday. I kept my eye on her tracker location, but this time it was from my office at Morelli Holdings, fighting back my own sweep of paranoia that she’d headed out without her clutch.

I forced myself to stay away from her, checking up on the business shit with that tracker beeping in the same place like a lodestone.

That evening I had a dinner with my parents. It would be the perfect time to parade some heiress in front of them, to show my father that he would lose.

But I canceled our evening together. One simple text.

Working tonight. Dinner another day.

I didn’t bother checking the replies. I wasn’t interested in what they had to say.

There was only one thing I was interested in. Elaine Constantine’s calendar. I knew what was brewing for her tonight. Tristan.

I knew where the venue was. Spirit Club—another downtown dive and another shitty Blue Hawk gig with Tristan chasing dick, no doubt.

I didn’t use my chauffeur for the journey this time.

My cab pulled up at Spirit Club when the gig was barely started. I’d known what was coming. This time I needed no guest list pass to get past the doormen, but I did need to go through a security sweep for signs of firearms or weapons. It felt damn fucking strange to be patted down by loser doormen, their hands so damn close to my flesh.

I already knew my plan for being there and found myself a position deep in the shadows at the sidelines, safely out of view of my pretty blonde mouse when she arrived.

It was a good thirty minutes later when I first saw her on the opposite side of the dancefloor, hanging off Tristan’s arm with a smile on her face. The big, bright smile of hers was superficial enough to make me smile. She was flinching every time someone brushed up close, spinning to face them with wide open eyes.

She was scared. Really fucking scared.

My stare was firmly on her as the gig started up and her gaze shot up to the stage. It was that jerk up there again, the brute with a roar of a voice that sounded like shit, only it wasn’t his voice that I hated tonight. It was him.

It was the way my sweet little mouse was staring up at him.

Nothing could deny it, even though she was getting drunk on beer, and gin, and whatever the fuck else Tristan was delivering to her. There was no way to avoid seeing the obvious.

The guy was huge, a trunk of a man with muscles rippling under his metal-loving tee. His hair was dark and slick, and his eyes were as deep as mine were. Almost.

It was enough. Enough for her to want a piece of him. She wanted the asshole on that stage.

I wanted to kill him for it.

It made no sense, not a bit. It should mean fuck all to me whose dick one of the Constantines were chasing after. I should be convinced this was the right location to finish her off, wipe her out and be done with it, never to think about the needy princess again, but I knew it wouldn’t happen.

Jesus Christ, I needed to get a fucking grip.

I shouldn’t be in this damn club, with her damn tracker beeping on my phone. I shouldn’t be anywhere near her. Shouldn’t be thinking about her. Shouldn’t be wanting anything to fucking do with her other than her demise. But still, I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop myself.

All through his set she was cheering for the bastard on stage, and all through his set I was gritting my teeth at the sight of it. I was wound up all the more when I caught sight of worse, a whole load fucking worse—the way he looked back across the room at her when he lifted his hands in the air and said his see you later to the crowd. He was gazing after her as hard as she was gazing after him. I could have slit his throat if I hadn’t been barren of blades to slice him up with.

Elaine had on her party girl persona, holding a beer and shaking to the music. The Blue Hawk prick was up next, and she was trashed enough to bop around on the dancefloor, past giving a shit for who the fuck was hunting her down.

She should only dance for me.

Tristan was dancing next to her, both of them leaping around to dickhead’s punk rock shit as I weaved my way closer. She didn’t even know I was looming. Didn’t care.

That only made me want her even more.

I was planning on leaping out and grabbing her as soon as she was off that dancefloor, just as soon as that Hawk prick said his good night to the crowd, but I didn’t get the chance. No sooner had the stage cleared when Tristan took hold of Elaine’s hand and raced her through the doors backstage, and the two of them were gone. Gone and out of sight.

No fucking way. I’d missed my moment.

I should’ve walked away rather than using my name to clear my route to my prey, but I didn’t. I was straight on after her, slamming into the security bouncers as I pushed my way backstage.

“Get off me,” I said, but they didn’t move, just took my arms in theirs and pinned me back against the brickwork.

They should’ve known who I was. They should have seen it in my fucking eyes, but they didn’t. They were fucking fools who fucking didn’t.

“Backstage is off-limits,” the one fool grunted, and I lashed out at him, kneeing him hard enough in the groin to watch him fall.

“I’m Lucian fucking Morelli,” I snarled, with my foot on his chest as he squirmed. “And you’ll let me through backstage or regret it for the rest of your sorry life.”

I knew my name would spread. There was no way word of my attendance at this dive wouldn’t make its way uptown as well as downtown, and it was the last thing I needed, shit from my father on top of the shit from my dinner cancellation.

The doormen weren’t fools enough to challenge me. The guy on the floor kept on squirming, letting out another groan as I planted my boot in his ribs on my way over him. The other guy swung the door backstage wide open, tipping his head down low as I passed.

I paced through, head turning frantically back and forth to find the temptress I was hunting, but I couldn’t hear her. I couldn’t hear shit. No backstage voices, or backstage anything down the corridor ahead of me, there was nothing but a round of empty bottles in the dressing room.

That’s when I heard her laughter—just one small breathy sound through the rear door to the parking lot, and the sound of a car door slamming shut.

I caught one glimpse of her in the cab as it pulled away. She was sitting in the back seat next to her brutish prick from onstage, with Tristan and his rock star piled in along with them.

I pulled up the tracker, and then I called a fucking cab.

My Constantine toy didn’t have long left to play with strangers. I was on my way to hunt her down. It was time to claim her once and for all.