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I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t risk having another one of those attacks. I had too much going on, too much at stake. I couldn’t be distracted. If I could’ve guaranteed that I could avoid all triggers, maybe it would’ve worked, but I couldn’t control every aspect of our lives. Fury wasn’t that sort of man. And if I was being honest with myself, I wouldn’t have wanted him if he was that sort of guy. But wanting him didn’t mean I could be with him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Fury
I couldn’t remember the last time my heart had raced with such anticipation for a weekend. Back in Palo Alto, work had consumed my Saturdays and Sundays, and while I’d squeezed in family time and the occasional date, this feeling of excitement was entirely new.
And all for what? Just more time at Club Privé.
A horn blared behind me, jolting me back to reality. The light had turned green. My fingers twitched, tempted to flip off the impatient driver, but I reined in my temper.
As I continued my drive, my mind wandered again.
At the next stop, Sienna’s face swam into focus. If I’d hoped our encounter earlier this week would quench my thirst for her, I was sorely mistaken. If anything, she occupied my thoughts even more now. But the tone had shifted. Beyond my lingering desire, worry had crept in.
Every time I’d visited the club, I’d seen her, but our interactions had been brief and distant. No repeat of our passionate encounter. I’d tried to rationalize it - she was busy, just like I would be if she’d spent all day in my office. But my gut twisted, knowing that something was off. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, which now held a guarded look. As if she didn’t trust me anymore.
What drove me mad was not knowing why. When did things change between us? It hadn’t been anything dramatic - I would have addressed it immediately if it had been. But thinking back, I pinpointed the moment. During our intimate encounter, everything had been electric. She’d matched me passion for passion, giving as good as she got. But just before I’d left, something had flickered in her eyes. So fleeting, I’d almost missed it.
Now, that moment haunted me. Had I said something to anger her? Had I been too rough? The thought that I might have hurt her, made her feel she needed to hide her true feelings, made bile rise in my throat.
Gavin’s warning about Sienna’s baggage echoed in my mind, tempering my self-blame. I didn’t know the extent of her past trauma. It could have been a messy break-up, or it could have been something far more sinister. Rage boiled in my veins at the thought of someone hurting her. The feeling was all too familiar, reminding me of when we’d discovered what had happened to my step-cousin, Maggie. If her abuser hadn’t already been behind bars when we found out, the McCrae-Carideo-Gracen family might have ended up there ourselves.
If someone had hurt Sienna like that, if that was why she now seemed wary of me, I wasn’t sure I could control myself.
But I needed to know. If she simply didn’t want me anymore, I could handle that. But if I’d done something to frighten her, I had to make it right. The question was, how could I broach such a delicate subject with her?
As I pulled into the parking garage attached to my office building, I had to admit that this might’ve been exactly what Gavin had tried to warn me about. I still believed Carson was right about letting Sienna make her own decisions, but now I wondered if I should’ve taken Gavin’s warning more seriously. I would have still wanted her, but instead of just jumping into sex, maybe we should have actually talked first.
I just didn’t think clearly around her. Too much blood rushing to other places, apparently.
And I didn’t think that was going to change soon. Even though she’d basically been giving me the cold shoulder for the past few days, it didn’t change how I felt about her. If anything, it made things worse because I just wanted to know what was wrong and how to fix it. I didn’t want to walk away from her because it might be hard or because she might have issues to work through.
As I rode up the elevator to our floor, I tried to figure out the best way to clear my head enough to focus on work, but all of that went out the window when I stepped onto the thirty-seventh floor and saw what awaited me.
The first thing that registered was that I wasn’t alone despite the early hour. Jules stood just a few feet away, as if she’d started walking before her brain had processed what she was seeing and had frozen in place. The second thought that went through my head was that I needed to find out if whoever had done this was still here.
This was total and complete vandalism. Every chair was overturned, every computer monitor on the floor destroyed. The office doors were all open, some broken as if the vandal had found them locked and had kicked them in. Keyboards and other equipment were scattered all over the floor, broken. Papers were everywhere, some shredded, some just thrown around. And there were holes in the walls. Based on the debris in the same area, it looked like whoever had done this had picked up chairs and slammed them into the walls. Vulgarities and slurs were scrawled across desks and walls alike, making me see red.
A choked sound from Jules pushed back my rage. Her safety was what mattered most.
I hurried toward her. “Jules?”
She spun around, her face pale. “Fury. I just got here and... I didn’t touch anything. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did the right thing,” I assured her, my mind racing. “Have you called the police?”
“Not yet,” she admitted. “I was waiting for you. I didn’t want to make that call without your permission.”
I nodded, already pulling out my phone. “I’ll call them now. Can you get in touch with building security? We need to know how this happened.”
As Jules hurried off to make the call, I dialed 911, my eyes still scanning the wreckage of our office. Who would do this? And why? We were new in town, barely making waves yet. It didn’t make sense.
The next hour passed in a blur. Jules and I waited in the lobby, watching as a parade of police officers and crime scene techs made their way up to our floor. I answered what felt like a million questions, my frustration growing with each repetition.
“Mr. Gracen?” A tall, broad-shouldered officer approached me, notepad in hand. “I’m Officer Richardson. I’d like to ask you a few more questions, if you don’t mind.”
I suppressed a sigh. “Of course, Officer. What else can I tell you?”
