“But I will not be treated like a service dog by anyone, least of all your ex-wife.”
Diren’s spine stiffened.
“You knew who that was?” he growled. “How?”
Ayla laughed shortly.
“Mr. Benning, I have worked for Benning Media for almost five years. I do know the comings and goings of the company, sir.”
His mouth formed into a thin line.
She is defiant, and yet…
There was something about her which both drew and repelled him simultaneously, like an exotic pepper which he knew was too spicy for consumption, yet he wanted to taste just a bit…knowing he would probably regret it later.
“When you are under my direct employ, you are to answer directly to me,” he told her sternly. “If you do not like my orders, you can find yourself a new position – outside of Benning Media. Is that understood?”
She nodded curtly.
“Understood, sir. And please note that if you had asked me to fetch Ms. Benning’s cappuccino, I would have obliged,” she replied evenly.
They stared at each other for a long while, Diren’s mind turning the exchange over as he tried to make sense of the woman standing before him.
She seems smart and willing to take direction…and yet, not. She’s not a pushover.
Diren was trying to reconcile such a personality with the small and intriguing package that it came in.
We’ll see how long she lasts, he decided but even as he thought it, he noticed that she had undone one of the buttons on her crimson blouse while she was outside his office, exposing the tops of her luscious breasts.
Well, maybe she has the capacity to be accommodating, he thought smugly. If this is her way of letting me know she wants the same thing I do, we will get along fine. At least for a while.
“I have a job for you,” he told her, prying his eyes away from the temptation of her breasts. “But you need to go undercover. Can you handle that?”
She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“Sir?”
“I need you to befriend someone and get her to tell you what she may have learned while working for me as my executive assistant. Some possibly confidential and sensitive information.”
A look of nervous understanding crossed over Ayla’s face.
“Okay,” she replied slowly. “But for what purpose?”
As she walked tipsily up the pathway toward the Benning office building late that afternoon, she realized she was in big trouble.
But how was she supposed to know that the girl she was to befriend was a bartender?
I really should not have had so much to drink, she thought, gritting her teeth as she fumbled inside the knock-off Prada clutch she carried looking for her mints. But at least it had gotten the bartender to open up about Diren and her employment at Benning, Ayla thought gratefully.
Christ, I hope there’s Gatorade in the fridge here, she thought as she made her way up to Diren’s floor.
It hadn’t been her intention to get drunk, but continuing to order drinks had seemed like the only way to keep the Delia nearby, refilling her glass. And the more she talked to the ex-employee, the more Delia had opened up to her. Isn’t that what Diren had wanted?
The more she drank, the more the conversation seemed to flow and when she finally picked herself up off the barstool, Ayla had been convinced that she had done a thorough job.
As she tried to give herself a much-needed pep talk on her way back to the office, her mind trailed back to the night before, and the unwelcome visitor she had found in her apartment…
She had opened up the door and allowed herself inside her ground floor unit.
Ayla was proud of the one-bedroom unit. It was barely bigger than the space she had shared with her family in Tallman, but it was all hers.
For the first time in her life, she had a place that was not fraught with tension and abuse, a spot that made her feel secure and warm.
And cool in the summer. Who would have thought I would be living like this one day?
Some days, she wished she didn’t have to leave the sanctuary she had painstakingly built over the past three years.
It had taken some sullen roommates and scrounging finances to get there, but Ayla felt like she was finally making progress in her life.
One day, the black cloud that has followed me around will disappear. It’s just taking some time to see that happen.
“My, my, I see you can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can never take the trailer park out of the girl.”
Ayla screamed as the voice in the dark caused her heart to stop, but instantly she knew who sat in her darkened living room, his black eyes gleaming through the dim lighting.
He had a starring role in every one of her nightmares, after all.
“How the hell did you get in here?” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest in shock. “How did you even know where I live?”
Ryland grinned and Ayla was sure she had never seen a more awful sight in her life.
It was not that Ryland was unattractive. On the contrary, in fact.
He was good looking in that bad boy, drug dealing, biker kind of way with his head shaved to a well-formed skull and bright eyes which shone with malevolence.
He wore an eyebrow ring over his left eye and a lip ring through the bottom part of his mouth.
An assortment of dark, Satanic style tattoos crisscrossed his bare arms and snaked up his chest, encircling his throat as if attempting to possess his body with the evil they depicted.
Good luck, Lucifer. Ryland is heir to the throne in Hell.
His smile itself was not terrifying; it was what the smirk implied which sent shudders through Ayla’s body.
“If you don’t want people to know your private business, sis, I wouldn’t post it all over social media.”
Ayla loathed when he called her “sis” but she did not react to the backhanded endearment because she knew it was meant to incense her.
“I’ve never posted my address on Facebook, or any other social media site!” she cried, racing through her mind to ensure that it was a fact. It certainly did not seem like something she would do, especially when she guarded her privacy so fiercely.
“Ryland, what are you doing here?” she breathed, trying to maintain her composure but even as she stood, she was quaking inside with fear.
“I should be asking you where you’ve been until two o’clock in the morning when you’re supposed to be workin’ tomorrow, but I have a feeling that you probably were already with your new boss, testing the waters, am I right?” he leered at her.
Indignation overcame her fear and Ayla scowled at her step-brother.
“I was out with Angela – not that it’s any of your business. Ryland, what are you doing here? Don’t make me ask you again,” she demanded harshly, hoping her bravado would cover up her fear at finding him in her apartment.
He lost his lazy smirk, his face twisting into annoyance.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, little girl? I own you, or have you forgotten?” he sneered at her.
Terror seized her.
Ayla lowered her cobalt eyes downward and shook her head.
“No, of course not,” she mumbled. “I just don’t know what you want, Ryland. Like you said, I have a long day tomorrow. I should be going to bed.”
He snorted contemptuously.
“You should have thought about that before you went out whoring tonight. Are you drunk?”
“No! Of course not! Just – please, Ryland, what do you want?” she begged, wishing he would just spit out whatever he had come for and leave forever.
I’m going to have to move now, she thought miserably. All because my step-brother is insane enough to hunt me down.
The thought of it was enough to make her weep. All the pride she had in her place, all the sweat and work that had gone into it. This tiny space had been her sanctuary, the first place that felt safe; and it was all hers. N
ow it would never feel safe again.
More thoughts to keep me up at night and give me night terrors when I sleep, she thought mournfully.
“I’ve come to collect on that favor you owe me,” he told her, and Ayla’s head whipped up to stare at him.
This again? She thought furiously. It’s getting ridiculously old. I can’t do this for the rest of my life.
Over the years, the ‘paybacks’ had been endless.
She had been his alibi, his pick up from shady situations. She had left work to bail him out of jail and given him money when his latest conquest needed an abortion.
Ayla knew she was becoming a prisoner to his demands, so the last time he had called on her, she’d had enough – and she’d told him.
When she had arrived at the address he’d sent her, the street had been blocked off by police tape, and fire trucks were screaming to the scene.
He had leapt into her car, reeking of fire and chemicals and ordering her to drive away.
A meth house had exploded and somehow Ryland had been mixed up in the party. Ayla did not ask any questions.
Even if Ryland wanted to disclose the nature of what had happened, Ayla knew that ignorance was the best defence should she ever be held for questioning.
“I am not doing this anymore!” she had exploded while they were still in the impromptu getaway car. “This is the last time, I swear!”
Ryland had stared at her coldly, his black eyes chilling her blood.
“You will do what I want, when I want it, if you know what’s good for you,” he hissed. “Because if you don’t – “
“Yeah, yeah,” she spat back. “You’ll rat me out. Well you know what, Ry? Go ahead. Because if you call on me one more time for any stupid reason, I’ll call them myself - like I wanted to do that day. It was a damned accident. I was a sixteen-year-old kid.”
He eyed her and for once, Ayla realized that she might have gotten the upper hand.
She had no idea if she actually had the gall to see through on her promise, but she knew the guilt of what had happened that day weighed heavily on her and would continue to haunt her for the rest of her life.
“You wouldn’t be that stupid,” he murmured but something in his tone told Ayla that he believed her. She hoped so, because she believed herself – mostly.
It had been over a year since Ryland had called on her for any illegal help, but suddenly he stood in her living room, reeking of bad news.
“I promise, sis,” he told her cajolingly. “If you do this, I will be out of your hair forever.”
“You say that every damned time!” she snapped.
“This time is definitely different,” he assured her.
“Why don’t I believe that,” Ayla retorted. “No, Ryland, I’m out.”
Without warning, he flew across the room, grabbing her arms with both hands and squeezing like a vice.
“You haven’t even heard my terms,” he snarled, and Ayla choked back a sob as she tried unsuccessfully to wriggle free.
“I don’t want to hear them,” she whispered but she could barely hear herself. “You’re never going to let me go!”
His face seemed to soften slightly but he didn’t release his grip on her shoulders.
“Just listen to what I have to say and maybe you’ll believe me this time,” he cajoled. “Please, sis?”
Ayla swallowed the bile in her throat and nodded, lowering her blue eyes.
“Okay, Ryland,” she mumbled. “What do you need from me this time?”
“Your new boss may be my ticket, sweetie,” Ryland said soothingly. “I have some old connections who are able to make anonymous transfers from offshore accounts.”
Her head moved up slowly and she tried to comprehend what that had to do with her.
“So?” she finally asked when he did not immediately continue. “What does that have to do with me?”
“You’re going to help me get Diren Benning’s offshore account numbers. That’s all I need to make this work, sis.”
Ayla gaped at him, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
“Are you fucking crazy?” she asked him, wresting herself free. “You want to steal money from Diren Benning?”
Ryland’s eyes narrowed menacingly.
“Of course not!” he snapped as if she was the idiot. “I don’t want to steal anything.”
She exhaled slowly, shaking her head.
“Good. Because that’s pretty stupid, Ryland.”
Even for you, she wanted to add but dared not. She was already pushing her luck by speaking her mind so boldly.
He folded his arms across his chest and nodded.
“I agree,” he replied. “That’s why you’re going to do it.”
She stared at him balefully.
“What the hell do I know about stealing and moving money, Ryland?” she asked, shaking her head in exasperation. She tried not to roll her eyes, fearing they would fall out of her head, she was so annoyed.
God, he’s such an idiot. Does he have any active brain cells connected? Can he even comprehend how difficult, not to mention suicidal, doing something like that to Diren Benning would be?
“Nothing, of course,” he answered, looking like he was growing irritated with her. “Like I said, I have connections for that.”
She waited, her own arms folding over her chest.
“Well what the hell do you want?” she almost yelled. “Spit it out so I can say no and go to sleep. It’s two o’clock in the morning!”
“I want you to find out which accounts he has offshores and find me their numbers.”
She laughed aloud even though doing so to Ryland’s face had never ended well for her.
“You make it sound like it’s a matter of clicking open a banking app,” she growled. “It’s not that easy and I wouldn’t even know where to look if I could find a way to access his computers. You think he’s just going to throw me on his personal computer and let me have at it? Come on Ryland, this is insane. Go home.”
“He might let you onto his computers,” Ryland replied quietly, and Ayla could see he would not take no for an answer.
“And how do you figure that?” she sighed. She was growing tired very fast and wanted the sinister presence out of her haven once and for all.
“I think you know how,” Ryland replied suggestively, licking his lips in that way which always sent chills through her body.
“Are you kidding me, Ryland? You want me to seduce my boss?”
“I want you to get those numbers for me,” he snarled, grabbing her by the throat. “I don’t give a shit how you do it!” Spittle flew into her face as he spoke.
“You better go get yourself some coffee before Mr. Benning – “ Cat’s voiced snapped her out of the memory from the previous night. Her problems seemed to be stacking, one on top of the other. She felt a headache building behind her eyes. First things first, she told herself. Deal with Benning and his undercover mission first. Then work on Ryland’s last request. She nodded her head to herself, the plan set in her mind, but as she did, the room tipped just a bit to the right.
Okay, so maybe I had a bit too much to drink, she thought defensively. But it was at Benning’s request…kind of.
The interior door opened and the man who had been inside the office with Diren stormed out, his face red with anger.
“He looks piss-y!” Ayla stage-whispered, covering her mouth to stop the giggle from emerging.
“Ayla, you better go - ” Catrina started to say, but Diren appeared before she could finish her thought. He stared hard at her, his eyes piercing clear through to her soul, it felt.
“Ayla, get in here,” he snarled, his jaw locked in fury.
She looked at Catrina, but the woman only averted her eyes, shaking her head.
Gulping, Ayla tripped inside the office, trying to keep her balance on her heels as she entered.
“Close the door,” he spat, and she knew that she was in big trouble.
“It’s not what
it looks like!” Ayla told him before he could say another word. He sank into his chair and glared at her.
“Are you drunk?” he snapped.
“Yes, sort of…but – “
“Is this a work day?” he interrupted.
“It is, Mr. Benning, but I – “
“You’re fired.”
The words filled her with shock and she shook her head.
“No!” she retorted, folding her arms over her chest. “You can’t fire me!”
He stared at her in disbelief.
“You’re joking, right? You’re off your face and you expect me to what? Keep you around?”
“I was out doing what you asked me to do!” she yelled back, her face growing red with anger. “You can’t fire me for doing what you told me to do!”
Diren’s mouth formed a fine line of anger.
“I asked you to go get drunk?” he asked, snorting at the suggestion. “Are you insane?”
“You asked me to get close to Delia Craver. That’s what I was doing!”
“And you thought you had to take her out drinking during the day to do it?”
Ayla could see he was not listening to anything she was telling him.
Slowly she began to shake her head. He wouldn’t even let her explain.
“You really are a bastard,” she heard herself say. “It’s not just a rumor. You’re a bona fide prick.”
Diren’s smoky grey eyes narrowed as the words registered.
“You wouldn’t be the first to call me that,” he replied shortly. “But I would have thought you’d be more creative. You may collect your things and leave.”
As if she had already disappeared from his sight, he turned his attention back to his desk.
“No.”
He arched a dark eyebrow, pursing his lips.
“Really? You’re going to make me call security?”
She placed her hands on his desk and leaned forward, spitting her words.
“You can call whomever you want,” she told him furiously. “But if you have me thrown out of here, whatever I learned today goes with me.”
An entirely different expression seemed to come over Diren’s face.
Ayla realized he was weighing the truth in her words.
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