Wicked Savage: Chapter 20

“Where are you?” Tynan’s voice slices through the phone as I step out of my car, tugging my black hoodie tighter around my face.

“What do you want?” I snap, already on edge.

I don’t have time for his shit right now. My focus is on what I came here to do, and I need to finish it fast, without anyone seeing me.

“The meeting starts in ten. Where the fuck are you?” His irritation simmers.

Shit. I forgot about leading the damn investor meeting today. The frustration builds in my chest as I clench my fist at my side.

“It slipped my mind.”

“A lot is slipping your mind lately.” He exhales sharply like he’s losing patience with me. “What the hell is going on? If it’s that girl, you need to figure it out, or I’ll have the board vote you out.”

My jaw tightens; I’ve heard enough. “Fuck off.”

“I’m telling you, don’t screw this up again.” His words hang in the air, thick with warning.

“Anything else?” I’m barely holding on to my temper.

“Yeah. I need you to go see that councilman, Elias, and have a word with him.”

Fucking great. That’s all I need right now.

“Why me?”

I can’t back out now. After blowing the meeting, I can’t afford to say no.

“Because I said so.” Tynan’s words hold a note of finality. “I’ll send you the details.”

God damn it.

He may not be the official head of the family, but it’s just a technicality. My father made it difficult for him, of course—forcing him to find a wife before he can have the title. But Tynan wants nothing to do with marriage.

The phone buzzes with a text, and I glance down at it, my lips twitching into a grim smile. The councilman’s at a restaurant not far from here. It’s almost like fate.

“I’ll get it done.” Heat rises in my veins as I slip the phone back into my pocket.

He doesn’t understand the chaos inside my head since I saw her at that club. The way I can’t stop thinking about her, can’t stop wondering if she’s with someone else. The mere thought of it tears at me. The jealousy burns hot, and I let it consume me.

Fixing my sunglasses, I march up the driveway of the house I’m buying, my attention zeroing in on the woman standing by the entrance.

“Mr. Quinn!” She flips her short blonde hair with a wide grin. “You made it.”

I barely acknowledge her greeting, tone flat. “Mm-hmm. Let’s get this over with. I have places to be.”

She falters, but quickly recovers, leading me inside.

“Well, let me show you around first,” she insists, though I couldn’t care less about any of this. “This beauty has ten bedrooms, twelve bathrooms, a greenhouse, and a tennis court.”

She’s trying to sound cheerful, but I’m not listening. None of this matters. None of it.

She takes me outside, gesturing to the manicured lawn. “The pool is absolutely gorgeous. And with only six homes in this gated community, it’s very quiet and secure, so you’ll never have⁠—”

“I’ll take it.”

She stops in her tracks, blinking in surprise. “But, sir, don’t you want to look around some more to be sure?”

“No. I already told you on the phone. I’ll take it. Thirty million, right?”

She nods, still stunned.

“Done.”

“Uh, okay,” she stammers, a nervous laugh escaping. “I’ve never had such an easy sale before.”

“Then you’ve never met a man desperate enough,” I mutter under my breath.

Desperate enough to be near the one woman I can’t have. Desperate enough to make sure no one else touches her.

I close my eyes briefly, cursing myself. If it wasn’t for her family, things would be different. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be spending thirty million on a house I’ll barely use just to be near her. But that’s the price I have to pay for a past I can’t change. And sometimes, that past fucks with your future in ways you never expected.

“Did you say something, sir?” She glances over her shoulder, her eyes flicking to mine.

“I want the keys. Today.”

Her unease echoes in the otherwise silent air. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. There are still things I have to finalize before I can⁠—”

I step forward, crowding her personal space, my voice low and lethal. “Ms. Rivers, right?”

She tips her chin up defiantly. “That’s right.”

“Well, Ms. Rivers, you’re going to make it happen. I’m not leaving here without those keys. Do we understand each other?”

Fear flashes in her eyes for the briefest moment, but she quickly hides it behind a forced smile.

She pulls at her bright pink suit jacket, fidgeting as she clears her through. “I’ll see what I can do. It’ll only take a moment to call the owners. I’m sure they’ll understand, given the nature of the transaction.”

The nature she’s talking about is cash. Cold, hard cash. I already have the money in the car. I need this done—fast. I can’t wait weeks to keep an eye on Dinara, especially after what she said. That she might’ve been with someone else.

A growl escapes my throat before I can stop it, and her eyes widen in surprise.

“Something in my throat,” I mutter, trying to sound casual.

“Oh…okay,” she stammers, backing away with a shaky grin. “I’ll be right back.”

I watch her scurry off, my gaze distant.

The thought of Dinara being next door fills me with a dark sense of satisfaction. There are acres of land between us, but that won’t stop me. It actually makes it easier. I can watch her without ever being noticed. I can track her every move, whether she’s alone or with someone else.

I didn’t hesitate when this property became available. I offered above asking just to secure it. It’s perfect. There’s nothing she’ll do that I won’t see. Nothing she can hide from me.

She won’t even know I’m here.

If I can’t have her, no one can. And that’s all there is to it.

A few minutes later, the woman returns, looking pleased.

“Good news, Mr. Quinn. The seller agreed to your stipulation. Once I have the funds and the papers are signed, I can hand you the keys. The rest will be finalized on my end.”

“Good.” A cold smile tugs at my lips.

Now the real fun begins.

I’m parked a safe distance away, the binoculars steady in my hands as Dinara steps out of her house. Two men flank her, but I don’t need to see their faces to know they’re her bodyguards. I pull out my phone, my fingers tight as I call Grant.

“Cillian, what’s up?”

“I need a favor,” I mutter.

He laughs dryly. “Let me guess. Trouble again?”

“This is important.” My eyes track her as she climbs into her car, the bodyguards getting into the SUV behind her.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s always important. What do you need?”

“I need you to disable an alarm just in case it’s on. One of yours.”

“Oh, that’s it?” He snickers. “I swear I need to start screening all your calls.”

“Can you do it or not?”

My patience is thinner than paper. She’s leaving soon, and I need to move fast. If I know Konstantin, he’ll have her turn on the alarm even with the staff in the house. Can never be too careful.

“Whose place is it?”

“It doesn’t matter. I also need access to her phone. One of yours too.”

Grant mutters something under his breath—probably regretting ever becoming friends with us. It’s no one’s fault but his that he’s a tech genius, running Westfield Enterprises, which creates AI tech and all kinds of other shit.

I can almost hear the click of his keyboard as he starts working. “Alright. Give me the address, and I’ll take care of it.”

I send it to him, and fifteen minutes later, I’m in her house, slipping in through a back entrance, keeping my movements quiet. Grant gives me a code to bypass the alarm and tells me what app to download to track her cellphone activity, another one of his creations.

“Better not hurt her,” he warns.

I let out a heavy sigh. “The last thing I want is to hurt her. If I wanted her dead, it’d be easier.”

“Lucky girl.” He scoffs. “Call if you need help.”

I hang up, my phone heavy in my pocket as I adjust my sunglasses and force myself to blend in. I can’t afford a mistake.

Making my way upstairs, I try to figure out where her room is. I open the first door, finding a generic bedroom with blue walls and white bedding. Not hers. I check the next two rooms: a bathroom, another guest bedroom.

Fuck!

But I can’t give up. I keep moving, until I finally find it. Her room. The bed is large: cream upholstery with lacy white curtains and pink-and-yellow floral bedding. But it’s not the décor that gives it away. It’s the scent. That sweet floral perfume.

Walking over to her vanity, I pick up the bottle, bringing it up to my nose and inhaling. I close my eyes, trying to feel her presence, to pretend she’s right here with me. But when I stare back, all I find is the emptiness around me.

My anger festers.

What the hell am I doing? Breaking into her house, stalking her. What the fuck is wrong with me? When did I become this guy?

But I can’t seem to stop myself either.

Moving toward her hamper, I find her clothes, a pair of black panties lying right on top. I let myself feel the thin scrap of fabric, my cock throbbing at the mere thought of her wearing a strappy thong and nothing else.

My pulse jerks as I grab them and bring them to my nose, the smell of her pretty cunt invading my nostrils.

I miss her smell. I miss the way her eyes sparkled like stars when she looked at me. I miss everything about her.

God, Dinara, I wish this was easy. I wish I could say fuck it all and have you.

As I run a hand down my face, frustration sets in. I hate myself for not being able to just forget what happened to Mom.

But I won’t betray her. I can’t. As long as I live, Dinara and I will be nothing.

Except you’re in her house, smelling her panties like a psycho. So what does that make you, asshole?

Stuffing the panties in my pocket, I walk over to her bed and settle on top of it.

Grabbing one of her pillows, I inhale the scent that still lingers. Jasmine, maybe? If I could, I’d drown in it. In her.

But I can’t stay here forever.

Blowing a breath, I get to my feet, returning the pillow where it was before running my hand over the comforter so it’s as neat as it was when I came here.

When I return to the vanity, I grab the perfume bottle, promising myself I’ll replace it. I can’t leave without it. I need something that smells like her. I need something to hold on to.

I don’t care if she realizes I was here. That I took something of hers. Let her know I’ll never let her go, no matter how sick and depraved that makes me.

Removing a small listening device, I set it up with my phone. But when I try to get it to work, I realize it’s useless. Konstantin must have a block installed around her perimeter.

Damn it. This will make spying on her a little complicated. At least I’ll still be able to track her cell activity thanks to Grant.

I stuff the device back in my pocket, ready to leave, but footsteps on the other side of the door stop me.

Shit!

I slip into the walk-in closet, shutting the door softly behind me. Heavy footfalls stop right outside her room before the door opens and someone walks inside. With my hand on the Glock at my waistband, I ready for a fight if it comes to it.

“Net!” a voice calls. It’s the chef—the one I almost killed. “I’m not doing it. Stop calling, okay? I need to go.”

What the hell is that about?

I stay quiet, listening as his footsteps fade away and the door shuts behind him.

Once I’m sure he’s gone, I slip out, heading back down the stairs. I nearly bump into a cleaning lady, but she just nods and keeps moving, oblivious to my presence.

I can’t believe how easy this is. I’d love to rub it in Konstantin’s face, but I can’t let him find out what I’m doing.

Leaving the way I came, I return to my car parked down the block. Once I’m back at my own place, I set up the app on my phone, finding her browser open. No texts yet. But I’ll be ready. When she starts sending them, I’ll have it all.

There won’t be a single thing she does without me knowing about it. I’ll make sure of that.