Page 112 of Watching Her

“Everyone has a weakness, my darling little Penny.”

“Don’t call me Penny.”

With his phone still in his hand, he returned his attention to the screen. “I was going to use this at a more appropriate time, but I think now is best. Since you’re in love with him and all.”

I was going to correct him in that I barely knew Christian, but realized the ache in my heart was all about how much I cared about him.

Carrington held out yet another picture of Christian holding a gun and standing over a man. A pool of blood had formed under his head.

“What is this?” I hissed through gritted teeth.

“Well, you see the family who owns this gorgeous property in Paris that both Tempest and Covington are vying for was leaning our way. Family values and all. It would seem the Parisians are picky about who they sell to. Christian didn’t like the pesky fact, so he ended the life of the patriarch of the Dubois family. Killed him in cold blood to send a message. Talk about being cutthroat.”

“I don’t believe you.” Yet the thought was already implanted in my mind.

“The evidence is plain as day, Penny. If you don’t do as I say, I’ll have no recourse but to take this to the police.”

I stood where I was, forced to remember why I hated the man. The memories were ugly, only the first time hearing his threats had been the worst. I closed my eyes, doing everything I could to keep from lashing out because in doing so, that would mean Carrington would win.

“I suggest you watch your tongue, Penny. Your expertise is passé at best. I wouldn’t waste your time chasing rainbows. You’re not talented enough.”

Carrington’s attitude wasn’t his worst characteristic. He’d become drunk on power, acting as if he was an heir apparent in an industry that prided itself in promoting from within. To think I’d once considered him a friend, which had led to our clandestine romance. Now I realized he’d just been keeping his closest competition at arm’s length. I’d been such a fool.

But for a little while, the loneliness had faded. Somewhere along the way, evidently, I’d sold my soul.

His problem was that he required demeaning everyone around him to make himself feel better. I was finished with being his toy and nothing else.

“Are you threatening me? Because I could certainly do the same since you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

He dared raise his fist to me. He’d acted as if he cared about me when in fact, he’d been doing nothing more than attempting to keep me in line so I wouldn’t challenge his way up the ladder of success. I’d learned late in the game how much he thought himself better than any woman in the world of hospitality.

We were the ones ironing the linens and pouring the wine. However, in the boardroom, we were merely ghosts. It was a bitter irony that the industry thrived on our hospitality yet discarded our leadership potential for a perceived ‘ideal male worker.’

Insert my ex’s picture and he was a perfect prime example of everything I’d fought against since joining the executive ranks of Covington.

His swagger was something else I’d learned to hate. “I’m telling you to stay in your lane.” He turned away from me, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door.

“And if I don’t?”

He stopped hard before placing his hand on the doorknob. “Then you’ll find out what I’m capable of. You forget that I know all your ugly dark secrets. Every. Single. One.”

“Fuck you, Carrington. Like I said before, give it your best shot.” When he said nothing, I opened my eyes, prepared to ensure he understood my position.

But he was already gone.

* * *

“Be careful, baby girl. There are monsters in every shadow and around every corner. They will try and destroy your dreams. Don’t you dare let them.”

My father’s words were more haunting now than ever.

The incident with Carrington was almost surreal. I’d tried to find any details on the person who’d been killed in Paris, but obviously the man’s murder hadn’t been big enough news. That didn’t mean what the bastard had told me wasn’t true.

The only question was if and how I’d tell Christian what Carrington was doing.

Or did I just go along with the plan? One little financial number.

Right, Penelope. Are you fucking stupid? If a blackmailer gets his claws into you, you’ll be permanently scarred.