Page 24 of King of Ashes
The metal door opens, revealing one of my men. He scratches his nape. “Your husband is here, Boss.”
A surge of excitement zaps through my insides, electrifying me. My reaction to his presence has my jaw setting in a hard line, wishing to shred it just like the target.
“Good. Let him wait,” I say and straighten my arms, cradling the gun. With my index finger on the trigger, I ready myself for shooting.
“Zara,” Conrad sighs.
Bullets spit out of the muzzle in a rage of lead, painting the floor with wasted opportunities. One hundred bullets later, it’s not enough to exorcise my annoyance, but I feel a little more in control of my emotions.
I release my hair from the ponytail, running my hands through it to style it, and stare at my black attire. The coverall is the best on the market, bulletproof while having a breathing capacity.
Outside, I hop in the Jeep with Conrad at my side, driving toward the main house.
“I hate you,” I grit out. “I didn’t need a man, and especially that cocky asshole who drives me wild. That was an idiotic idea.”
He brushes invisible lint off his suit jacket. “You jumped quite eagerly on it considering you were the one who proposed it to Vian.”
He’s an asshole for calling me out like that.
“And as my best friend and advisor, you should have said no,” I say through gritted teeth, looking straight ahead.
He waves me off, unimpressed. “As if anyone could change your mind once you’ve made it up.”
It was a great lapse in judgment. I was doing perfectly fine on my own. Now he’s sabotaging my peaceful existence with his imposing presence, suffocating me. I can’t breathe.
Pulling up to the house, I see a vehicle parked to the side. Hopping out of the Jeep, I burst through the doors and meet my household manager.
“Where is he?”
“He wanted to walk the property,” she informs me, looking unsure.
“Unsupervised?” I ask in a high-pitched voice betraying my nerves.
A line digs between her brows, and she says meekly, “He is your husband, ma’am.”
Right, but that doesn’t give him the right to simply wander without asking.
I am about to turn around when she adds, “He brought an overnight bag.”
The asshole.
I inhale a lungful of air to ground myself. I want to have it sent to a guest room on the far side of the house, but I must keep up appearances for the staff. “Put it in my room.”
“Right away.”
I climb into the Jeep and take off, my eyes scanning the area, but he’s nowhere in sight. This cat-and-mouse game he started excites me as much as it maddens me.
Near the forest’s edge, I stop the car and follow the narrow trail toward the lake. It’s my quiet place. But as I see fresh shoe prints, I groan low in my throat.
How did he find it?
He stands at the edge of the lake, his hands tucked into his pockets, lost in deep thoughts as he stares ahead.
For a moment, the girl I used to be floats around him like a mirage, prompting me to shake my head to clear my mind.
As I approach him, pebbles crunch under my boots, and he says, not bothering to glance back. “I don’t like to wait.”
It pisses me off that he knows it’s me just from my footsteps. His capacity to recognize me is uncanny.
