Chapter 8
The Rolls Royce glided smoothly through the heavy Manhattan traffic.
The interior of the car was dead silent. The only sound was the soft hiss of the air conditioning.
Evelyn sat pressed as far against the passenger door as physically possible. She held her hand over her collarbone, where the skin still burned from his teeth. She stared blankly out the window at the passing neon lights.
Julian sat on the opposite side. He had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. His long legs were crossed. He didn't look out the window. His dark eyes were locked onto Evelyn, tracking her every breath like a radar.
The silence was suffocating him. He needed to assert his control again.
"Be at the Hawthorne Group headquarters tomorrow at ten in the morning. Top floor," Julian commanded. His tone was absolute.
Evelyn slowly turned her head. Her eyes were exhausted but cold. "I will be going to HR to hand in my resignation. I am not working for you."
Julian scoffed. A mocking smile touched his lips. "Resign? Do you think the non-compete clause you signed is toilet paper? Without my signature, you will never work in this industry again."
Evelyn's jaw clenched tight. Her body shook with silent rage. She was trapped in a spider web, and every time she moved, the silk just wrapped tighter around her throat.
The tension in the car was stretched so tight it was about to snap.
Suddenly, the large digital screen on the center console lit up.
The name Finn O'Connell flashed in bright white letters. A second later, the Bluetooth system automatically answered the FaceTime audio call. The sound blasted through the premium surround-sound speakers.
"Hey! Julian! You miserable bastard, you finally picked up!" Finn's loud, obnoxious voice filled the entire cabin.
Julian frowned deeply. He reached his hand out to hit the red end-call button.
But Finn talked incredibly fast.
"Jesus Christ, man, how much did you drink last night? Gus told me you almost drank the entire bar dry before you finally passed out in your penthouse!"
Julian's hand froze in mid-air. All the blood drained from his face. He barked at the screen. "Finn. Shut your mouth. I am in the car."
Finn completely ignored the warning. He laughed loudly.
"So what if you're in the car? You didn't care about your image last night when you were hugging a whiskey bottle, crying and screaming Evelyn's name!"
The air in the cabin vanished.
Evelyn's head snapped toward Julian. Her eyes were wide with absolute shock.
Julian Hawthorne, the terrifying tyrant who had just beaten a man half to death and threatened to destroy her life, was currently turning bright red. The dark flush started at his neck and burned all the way to the tips of his ears.
Finn delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Brother, listen to me. Stop playing the cold, ruthless CEO. Last night you looked like a pathetic, desperate dog begging for its ex-girlfriend to come back!"
Smack!
Julian slammed his large palm down on the center console with lightning speed. The screen went black. The call disconnected.
But Finn's words-desperate dog begging for its ex-girlfriend-seemed to echo off the leather walls of the car.
The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and completely paralyzing.
Evelyn stared at Julian. She tried to match the image of the crying drunk with the monster sitting next to her. She couldn't do it.
Julian sat completely rigid. His hands were curled into tight fists on his lap. His knuckles were bone white. He stared straight ahead, trying desperately to maintain his terrifying aura, but his bright red ears completely ruined the illusion.
Evelyn watched his chest rise and fall in panicked, shallow breaths.
The extreme contrast broke something inside her. The heavy terror in her chest suddenly evaporated.
Evelyn pressed her lips together, but she couldn't stop it. A soft, muffled snort of laughter escaped her mouth.
The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet car.
Julian's head snapped toward her. He glared at her. He tried to look furious, but there was deep panic in his eyes. "Is something funny?"
Evelyn immediately bit her lip to stop smiling, but the coldness in her eyes had melted. She cleared her throat and looked back out the window. "No. Not funny at all, Mr. Hawthorne."
Julian groaned. He dropped his head back against the headrest and dragged his large hand down his face. His carefully constructed mask of the ruthless avenger had just been shattered into a million pieces.
In the front seat, Gus drove the car as smoothly as a hearse, pretending he was completely deaf.
The Rolls Royce pulled into Brooklyn. As it parked in front of Evelyn's rundown apartment building, the suffocating terror in the car had been replaced by a strange, tense, almost sweet awkwardness.
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