Page 100 of Crave Me
CHAPTER 23
Wren
The warm June breeze picks up, shifting my hair to the side. Behind me, someone barrels down on his horn, yelling at the garbage truck in front of him to hurry the hell up. I dig through the white paper bag stuffed with food. I have a proposal from the administrative staff to look through before ten, but when I remembered that Evan didn’t eat breakfast, and it would be four more hours until his next break, I left it and the boatload of work I have littering my desk, to buy him that egg white sandwich he likes, the one with blue cheese crumbles and fresh spinach. I also picked up another coffee and fresh fruit in case he needs a snack. I grin, wondering when the hell I turned so nurturing, only to swear like the guy in the garbage truck when I realize I forgot the damn fork.
Whatever. I’ll pick one up in the downstairs coffee shop. Their coffee blows and the woman behind the counter keeps burning the bagels, which is why I walked two blocks to get Evan breakfast. God knows the guy deserves a decent meal.
I glance at the time on my phone. Evan is already meeting with John and the other engineers. Unless they hit a major hurdle, he’ll have at least five minutes to eat before his meeting with Anne and Clifton.
I raise my head as I round the corner and the giant metallic sign for iCronos comes into view. No matter how busy I am, or what I’m doing, I always look up at the sign, a sense of pride lifting my spirits when I think of the man behind the empire.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
Bryant pushes off the side of the building, his red baseball cap shadowing his face. “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, backing away.
There’s ten feet separating me from the crosswalk leading to iCronos property, thirty feet from the nearest guard, and another fifty to the doors. But Bryant isn’t moving.
He holds out his hands. “Take it easy. I’m just saying hello.” He huffs. “Besides, I have a new woman, and if you can believe it, she’s exactly who I need.”
Anger pushes aside my fear. “And what’s that? Someone who won’t leave your ass when you beat her and too naive to figure out what a manipulative prick you are?”
“Where’s all this anger coming from?” He’s smiling, but in a way that reminds me how twisted he can be. “We had some good times, you and me. Real good, remember?”
“No,” I fire back. “All I remember is the shit you put me through, you fucking psycho.”
A car rolls slowly past. The way the sunlight hits the windshield casts the light across his face, illuminating his seedy grin. The stubble on his jaw is thicker now, not quite a beard, but close to it. Strands of his straight blond hair poke through his cap. I suppose he’s trying to return to that surfer look he had when I first met him. I also suppose I could give a rat’s ass. But it’s what’s in his light blue eyes that I can’t get past. They’re unusually steely and absent of anything kind.
I take a step to my right, keeping the traffic to my back and distance from the small alleyway separating the bank from the insurance company beside it. Bryant can drag me behind there if I let him, but I’ll be damned if I let him.
He’s in jeans, the expensive kind with holes in all the right places and a tight rust-colored T-shirt that stretches across his brawny and tall frame. I don’t know why the hell I was ever attracted to him. Everything about him is phony, except for the TAG Heuer watch on his wrist, reminding me his life of crime has been lucrative.
“So how you been?” he asks, chewing on his gum in that annoying way he does.
“Awesome,” I say, taking another step and motioning to his watch. “How’s life as the mob’s little bitch going? I can see bending over for them is paying off big time for you. My brother, Curran the cop, and my other brother, Declan, you know, the District Attorney? They’re just dying to know all about it.”
He laughs, enjoying himself. “Don’t know what you mean, pretty girl.”
“Stop calling me that,” I snap, keeping him in my line of sight as I edge toward the crosswalk.
“Shit, you’re bitchy,” he says. “What’s the matter? Doesn’t your new man know what you like to keep you happy? If you want, I can tell him exactly how hard and rough you like it”
“Fuck off, Bryant,” I interrupt, my anger flaring. “You know nothing about us.”
The street light flashes, signaling the all-clear to cross. I take off fast, spilling the coffee through the bag and singeing my hand. Bryant notices, and I expect him to laugh. Instead his smile dwindles.
“Hey, Wren,” he calls. “Remember what I told you, no can love a whore.”
His haunting tone pricks at my skin. I keep my focus on him as I reach the walkway and step onto the iCronos campus. He keeps pace with me along the opposite side of the street, stopping where a woman with yellow blond hair in a sundress paces by a Maserati convertible. He stops in front her. I can’t hear them, but the way her arms are crossed over her chest, I can tell she’s pissed.
Bryant glances my way, then snatches the woman into his arms, kissing her like she’s something he owns rather than someone he cares for. She shoves him away, slapping him hard across the face. He throws back his head, laughing. His reaction is weird, giving us both a peek at all that crazy he hides all too well. I don’t think she sees it. She’s too distracted by anger.
She storms away, furious, yanking the strap of her sundress back onto her shoulder. I can’t see her well from where I’m standing, especially with the sunglasses she’s wearing. She looks familiar, but is too far away to place.
Bryant salutes me, like he doesn’t care whether she comes back or not. He probably already has someone else lined up to take her place.
I dial Curran, speaking fast and reading off Bryant’s plate when it goes to voicemail. God damn it. I wish I could shake this hold Bryant has over me. I thought I was free of him, but all he had to do was show his face to remind me that I’m not.
He hops into the convertible and speeds off as I reach the main doors to the lobby. I mutter a curse under my breath, and another one when I shove my phone back into my purse and reach into the bag. The sandwich is soaked and the bottom of the paper coffee cup is poking through the bottom.