Page 30 of Balthazar's Fire
He’d been so close to enjoying the fruits of his labor in the basement, so near to enjoying the woman who’d skirted his advances, only to see his opportunity grasped away by the same bastard he’d taken her from. Oliver’s fingers furled into a fist as the thought lingered. He’d been so tantalizingly near to having her.
Cherie had been afraid in the shadows, her labored breathing and desperate mewls making him hard. Sure, she’d fought not to show it, but Oliver’s heightened senses had discerned the truth easily, and he’d loved the fear radiating from her. It had been intoxicating. He wanted that back. Not because he especially wanted her. She was slim and pretty enough, with what had always seemed like a decent pair of tits stashed beneath her cheap attire, but he could get that from just about anywhere. No, it was the disgust flickering in her gaze that drove him wild, the certain knowledge that when he had her, she’d have detested every moment.
Of course, the fact that Balthazar Vaughn seemed to have taken a shine to her just made it all the better. Screwing the woman that his greatest rival craved would be the icing on the fucking cake, and Oliver hadn’t given up on eating it. The Vaughns’ interference earlier was only an irritating delay.
“Yeah, he was interested,” Oliver replied, conveniently leaving out the crucial information that almost everything Sebastian had said at the impromptu meeting was probably bullshit. A fresh surge of fury spread through Oliver as for the umpteenth time that day, he was forced to swallow down the scam he’d fallen foul of. “It seems not everything in the Vaughn ranks is cordial.”
That might still be true, and Oliver held onto the thought that Sebastian’s rancor at Balthazar hadn’t only been for show. Oliver had never believed the four brothers got on as well as they liked the world to think they did. It made sense to him that the second eldest brother might harbor resentment against the oldest. A warm feeling swirled inside him as he considered the possibility.
“Excellent.” Jonas rubbed his hands together. “Then maybe I have judged you too harshly, Oliver.”
No shit.
His father had been judging him strictly from the moment he was born. As the only son and heir to the Monroe legacy, the weight of the family name had all fallen to him. Jonas seemed content to let Oliver’s sister, Rebecca, do nothing, while he shouldered all of the responsibility. It was bullshit. He’d never had the chance to do what he wanted. Never had the opportunity to be anyone different from the man he’d become.
“What’s all this I hear about you abducting some unsuspecting woman, though?” Jonas’ brows knitted. “Is it true?”
“It was.” Oliver let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, some of the tension and anger he’d been holding on to releasing with the air. “I let her go.”
“Why?” Jonas asked.
“Why what?”
“Why take her?” His father pressed, asking the question Oliver was sure that everyone would pose. “When you can have anyone you want?”
“Because I’m bored of easy prey.” Oliver shrugged, expressing his nonchalance. “I’m a hunter, Dad. I don’t like easy women.”
“You have no idea how lucky you are.” Jonas chuckled. “You have money and sex on tap.”
“Damn right,” Oliver retorted. It was no more than he deserved.
“Is she going to be a problem?” Jonas’s tone was suddenly serious. “The girl you let go? Does she need to be paid off, or… disposed of?”
“No,” Oliver answered. “I’m not done with her yet. I only let her go to give her a false sense of security. I’ll have her again soon.”
“And then?” There wasn’t a flicker of disapproval in Jonas’ voice, only a concern that his son might leave a loose end that he would be required to tidy. “Will you get rid of her when you’re finished?”
“Maybe.” Oliver hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I don’t know.”
“Make sure you don’t leave any mess.” His father warned, blissfully unaware that Cherie had also witnessed Oliver morph into the chimera. No doubt he’d have been even more annoyed had he realized that. Jonas never spoke much about their abilities, but he made it clear that no one else should know. Even the Monroe women were oblivious to the men’s power. Oliver cared less about the confidentiality, knowing he was powerful enough to get away with almost anything, but he could do without another lecture from his father.
“I won’t,” he assured Jonas.
Oliver couldn’t recall precisely when he’d realized he had the ability to shift into the chimera, or that his dad had been doing so his whole life. It was as though Oliver had always had the knowledge, a sense of knowing that he was stronger, faster, and better than the next man, and Oliver had always reveled in it. He would have his way—he always did—and if Cherie and the Vaughn brothers were under any illusions about that, they had another think coming.
“I want your focus on the company, not your cock.”
“I can focus on both,” Oliver reminded him.
“Hmmm.” Jonas sounded unconvinced.
“Trust me.” Even Oliver had to snigger at that demand. “I’ll manage.”
“Okay.” Jonas nodded knowingly. “I need to get to another meeting.” Rising from his chair, Jonas yanked down his lapels.
“And by meeting, you mean ‘young floozy with a cracking rack,’ right?” Oliver’s tone was dry as he wandered around his desk to see his father out.
“Maybe later,” Jonas replied. “It depends how the first meeting goes.”