Dark Reign (The Bennett Duet #2) - Xavier Neal Page 0,2

getaway – she apparently got sick during – was for?”

Keeping my poise increases in difficulty. “How do you know we were away at the beach?”

“The memo you sent-”

“Simply stated she would be completely unavailable until this morning. Such details were not included nor would they be because it is not of the staff’s concern where she was located or what she was doing or who she was doing it with, Mr. Harrington.” There’s no stopping the step closer I take towards him. “The information you seem to possess is privileged.” I lower my face a tad closer and force myself to control the tone. “How did you come in contact with such limited knowledge?”

His Adam’s Apple nervously bobs prior to him stuttering out, “I-I-I I don’t know. I guess I just assumed the rumors were true-”

“What rumors?”

“That you were going to propose.”

It’s an office.

Of course, there’s gossip.

Locating the roots of who has spread what is a much more troublesome task than I have time to entertain.

“And, the beach?”

“She might’ve texted me that?” He offhandedly replies in confusion. “I-I-I-I remember we talked before she left. Maybe she called? She could’ve told me over a phone call. It could’ve been a call or maybe it was a text. I-I-I would probably assume a text. We usually text – it’s easier, ya know?”

“Why are you suddenly so nervous, Mr. Harrington?”

“Maybe because I’m not used to being interrogated?”

Point goes to the weaselly looking little shit on that one.

I swallow my possible overreaction and lean out of his personal space. “Perhaps it would be a better investment of your time to dismiss yourself to send along the reports Julianna requested rather than to inquire if the whispers around the office regarding your boss’s relationship status are indeed true.”

“Yup.” Phillip immediately nods, turns on his heels, and bolts the opposite direction of the one we’ll be taking.

Once he’s rounded the corner at the end of the hallway, I quietly state, “Miko.”

“Su di essa.”

On it.

The two of us return our walk to the elevator in silence.

Phillip could be perfectly innocent.

He could be nothing more than a babbling employee who has no valuable knowledge regarding this situation.

Or, he could know something.

Or, everything.

Just like everyone else who knew where we were, where we were going to be, and when we were going to be there. The pool of suspects isn’t shallow enough for me to swim comfortably in, and not knowing who you can trust while wading in that water is deadly. There are only two people I would never question betraying me.

One is standing at my side and the other should be.

She will be.

I give the tie that’s beginning to feel more like a noose a small adjustment as the elevator begins its descent.

Miko doesn’t direct his attention away from what he’s typing to tease, “Vuoi che appenda il tuo corpo per la cravatta?”

Do you want me to hang you by the tie?

He isn’t even shot the mirth-filled glare I would normally be tempted to.

The outside world may continue to see me as it always has, as it always must, but Miko is granted access to see the specks of me spiraling.

How constantly close I am to completely crumbling.

His taunting continues, “Non sarebbe una morte rapida.”

It wouldn't be a quick death.

My lips remain closed.

“E non è quello che vuoi veramente?”

And, isn't that what you really want?

I finally drag my stare from the closed doors over to him.

“I mean, if my choices are a slow and painful death by designer fashion or a bullet to il cervello, I’m gonna choose the one and done every time. The quick and dry.” He lets the corner of his mouth kick upward. “That had an unintentional sexual overtone…but I’m gonna stand by it.”

The instinct to snap over the unwanted return of his playful nature is, once more, interrupted, although, this time, it’s by the sound of the doors releasing us to the bottom floor. Rather than waste the breath, I roll my eyes and exit the elevator. My attention sweeps the bustling bottom floor that has too many people coming and going for my liking. What was previously viewed as nothing more than a sign of success is now a cesspool of suspects to investigate.

How do you trim the disgusting, unchewable fat when you can no longer tell the difference between that and what is actually edible?

Cerise smiles widely as she waves her hand to the left to indicate the direction the gentleman she’s talking to should be taking. From first glance