“How long?”
“How long, what?” Douglas snapped.
“How long have these been coming in?” Damien growled, his patience gone.
“Oh, who knows? Months? Years? I’ve lost count,” he said while dismissively waving his hand again, as if it didn’t matter in the least.
“Are you telling me that your daughter has been getting death threats, and you don’t think that’s worthy of your attention?” Damien asked, his voice deceptively soft, not alerting the man to the danger he was in.
“You know how it is when you’re wealthy – people send all kinds of crap. It doesn’t mean anything,” Douglas replied, brushing the matter under the rug.
Damien looked again at the picture, a close up shot of Sierra. There were holes poked through the photo and fake blood smeared on the image with a message that read, “just a picture of what you’ll look like when I’m finished with you.”
“This isn’t something to be taken lightly. She should have twenty-four hour supervision on her,” Damien snapped.
“Well, it looks like you’ll be handling that, now, doesn’t it?” Douglas snapped back. The two men glared at each other for several strained moments.
“Apparently in the nick of time, too,” Damien goaded, knowing his words would upset Douglas.
“I could call this whole thing off…” Douglas threatened, to which Damien just smiled. He knew a false threat when he heard one. Douglas was the one who’d called him. Damien really had nothing to lose, other than curiosity and some strange need to solve the puzzle of Sierra Monroe.
“Go ahead.” Damien had zero concerns about calling the man’s bluff.
Douglas glared at him for a moment longer, before he mumbled something and then resumed pacing across the room, once again looking to the door.
Damien returned to the sofa and sat quietly, his eyes blank as he thought about the situation. Maybe this deal was all more than he wanted to get involved in. Was one woman worth all the trouble? He had an agenda to follow through on, a tightly controlled schedule to meet. Having Sierra around would break the ice with her best friend, Brianne, which in turn would make it easier for him to get closer to Joseph and George Anderson, the men who’d killed his father, Neilson, when Damien was only a baby, but he could do that on his own.
At the thought of the men who’d destroyed his life before he’d even said his first words, rage shot through him. Any time he thought of those men, he remembered why he was so dead set on revenge. He’d lost the opportunity of a normal life, with two loving parents, because they’d stripped his father of his pride, and robbed his mother of every dime.
He’d come too far to change plans now. He was so close to exacting his retribution, and he couldn’t start feeling sorry for Sierra. His father deserved retribution for what those lying thieves had done. Sierra was just another tool – and a minor curiosity – nothing more.
∞∞∞
Sierra stood outside her father’s study and took a few steadying breaths. She was nervous and didn’t want to open the door. She still had no clue why her dad wanted to see her, but his formal summons were never good.
With fear practically dripping from her, she slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside the dreadful room. So many horrible events had happened in there. It was the first place he’d backhanded her, causing her to fall to the floor and nearly pass out. She’d worn a bruise on her cheek for over a week.
He’d kept her from school, telling them she’d come down with a nasty flu and he’d make sure homework was done before she came back. He’d threatened even worse punishment if she were to ever tell anyone about the abuse.
She feared him – hated him – and yet, oddly, still loved him. She wanted to get away, but she didn’t want terrible things to befall upon him. The odd emotions caused such confusion inside her.
She stepped through the doors, immediately feeling the heavy tension lingering in the room. Her heart pounded as she feared what that would mean for her. She was safe as long as people were in the room, but the second he sent them away…
Sierra felt the shiver from the top of her spine to the bottom of her toes. With stress mounted so high, he’d surely be taking out his aggression on her later. She had to fight back the tears threatening to fall in trepidation of her night ahead.
She didn’t even flinch anymore when he raised his hand. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop it, so she tried to let her mind take her somewhere else. Sometimes the beatings weren’t as bad as others.
As she glanced around at the familiar faces of her father’s employees, her eyes stopped at the couch. She could see the profile of a man she didn’t recognize. Maybe he was new, and not working out, and that’s why the room seemed so suffocating.
Her father’s security detail, consisting of three men in suits, kept glancing nervously at the stranger, which was even more odd. The guy oozed confidence as he sat back in what seemed a casual way.
From the cut of his expensive suit, to the custom made loafers on his feet, even to how his legs were crossed, he seemed like a man not to be messed with. Maybe her father had done a lot of business with him, and that’s why he seemed to be the one in charge.
She hadn’t even seen his face yet, and still, his intimidation penetrated her skin in an unwelcomed intrusion.
Curiosity began eating at her almost instantly as the need to see his face, to know who he was. She felt somehow like he was her enemy, which made no sense whatsoever. She didn’t know him, so how could he be a threat? Another shudder passed through her. Maybe she should listen to her instincts and just run as fast as she could.
Her father would never allow her to do that.
Sierra took a few more steps into the room, finally gaining the notice of the other occupants. She saw the slight movement in the stranger’s shoulders as he shifted his weight. Slowly rising to his feet, his every gesture seemingly planned – coordinated.
Though his movement seemed to convey that he wasn’t in a hurry, somehow she knew he did nothing without thinking it through, planning ahead with precise calculation.
He turned around and before she could divert her eyes, their gazes locked together. From within her own head, she commanded herself to turn around, dismiss him with nothing more than a look, but she couldn’t seem to break the connection.