Page 12 of Ruthless Ambition
Chapter 3: Angel
With a racing heart, I heard him leave the parking garage, the screech of his tires his parting goodbye.
Sitting in my car, I checked the locks again, ensuring I was secure within the confines of my SUV. My fingers shook slightly as I clutched the card in my hand, a small, seemingly innocent business card that had been attached to the box that had been sitting at the front desk for me.
Twelve roses sat in the box beside me. Dead roses. Roses that had been dead for some time, but carefully handled so they were intact. Reading the words again, I tried to think who would send this to me.
Everything beautiful dies.
Was it a warning? A joke? Licking my lips, I looked toward the exit to where Onyx had recently driven.Was it him?He left ages ago, so was he waiting to see my reaction?
No. He didn’t play games, well, he did, but not this kind. If Onyx wanted to warn me, he would do it by looking down at me, with his perfect sneer and emotionless eyes.
Shoving the card into the box, I closed the lid and started the engine. I didn’t need this. It was probably a joke. A bad one, but I represented some really high-strung clients. It was probably a joke. Or one of my guys was thinking about their long-time career in a sport that was riddled with injury. I mean, dead roses, everything beautiful dies? They were sports players — they had a limited time in the industry to make their money. I had a number of clients, basketball players, and football players. Nothing was permanent in sports except the broken bones you collected along the way.
Driving home, I decided that it was a symbolic gift, not really meant for me. I would think of who had been especially morose lately and put out some feelers to ensure they were okay.
A happy client was a productive client after all. A productive client meant revenue for themandfor me.
Home was in 12 South, and even though it was a short distance from the office, I worked late most nights, and despite my neighborhood being one of the safest, that lingering fear from college still hung over me like a bad cloud. Which frustrated me more than anything because that night, I had been fine. It hadn’t happened to me because the Devils had stopped it.
Onyxhad stopped it.
Parking in the drive, I groaned out loud as I thought about himagaintonight. He was like a persistent headache today, constantly having and holding my attention.
Getting out of the car, I walked down the drive and put the flowers and card in the trash. Hesitating, I ended up reaching in and retrieving the card, tucking it in my jacket pocket before I got the rest of my stuff from the car and heading inside.
My home was a neat, compact, two-bed, one-bath, single-story property that I got at a steal because the previous owners were very soon to be parents again of their third child and had not only run out of space, but they had also needed to run out of Nashville. He’d gotten a new job, and they needed to move quickly before baby number three stopped mom from being able to do too much.
His new job and subsequent pay raise meant they were negotiable on the price, and I was ready to move in with all my finances in place, and I was skilled at negotiation.
The house had some wear and tear, but I was handy at DIY and loved a project. My current project was staring at me as I placed my purse and work stuff down. I was replacing the kitchen units, and although it wouldn’t take long, my stove wascurrently out of use. The flowers had thrown me, and now I had no dinner.
Takeout it was.
An hour later, I was in casual clothes, waiting for my Thai food as I sat on the kitchen floor with a tool kit and a bottle of beer. The phone ringing caused me to jump, and I grabbed it off the counter, answering without checking the caller ID.
“Hello?” When no one replied, I checked to make sure I had connected, and seeing that I had, I also realized it was a blocked number, which wasn’t unusual. “Hello?” When no one spoke, I hung up.
My mom butt dialed me at least twice a week; it was probably a butt dial.
When the phone rang again fifteen minutes later, I checked the caller ID first. Blocked. Coincidence?
“Hello?”
Silence.
Hanging up, I put the phone on the counter just as my doorbell rang, and I yelped out loud.
“Christ, Angel, get a grip.” Scolding myself, I hurried to the door and, with a few careless pleasantries, headed back to the kitchen with my dinner.
Lying in bed later that night, my phone lit up with a message. I had forgotten to put DND on, and reaching over, I saw a text with a blurred photo from a blocked number. Staring at it, I tried to figure out what it was and, more importantly,whoit was. This was no longer accidental.
Turning on DND and putting the phone face down on my nightstand, I tried to sleep. I’d get answers in the morning.
* * *
“Hey there, it’s Angel.” I tried to sound chirpy, but I was feeling pissed off. I had nineteen clients, and my account wasgrowing. Well, it would be if Onyx could leave my client list alone for long enough. Zeke was my last phone call of this morning, and none of my clients had sent me a “gift.” None of them were sounding down — in fact, the majority of them were downright perky.
