My steps are muffled by the plush carpet as I pace back and forth in Tylon's office. He remains seated in his chair. Relaxed, composed and infuriatingly calm. Like nothing is wrong. Like he didn't just light a match and toss it on everything I've been carefully building.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? I mean, do you want me to get caught or something?" My voice trembles with fury, my hands slicing the air as they gesture wildly.
He fidgets with the cuff on his sleeve, expression blank. Not even a flicker of remorse. "I don't know what you want me to say."
I storm up to his desk and slam both palms down on the surface with a smack that echoes through the room. My hands sting, but it doesn't compare to the fire simmering in my chest. "Just admit it, Tylon. It was a petty fucking move. Is this a game to you? I'm risking my life to help you out here, and that was not called for."
It feels like my head is going to pop. Pressure builds behind my eyes. My throat is tight, and I'm not sure if I'm choking on my rage or on the words I haven't dared to say aloud.
I hate this. I hate how he's just sitting there like a stone, like I'm not even worth the energy of a reaction. When I don't have to be doing this right now. I didn't have to pick up his call. I'm not desperate for money.
Maybe Vaughn was right all along, and those stupid internet people. Tylon is a selfish asshole. A user and a manipulator, who pulled me into a war I never signed up for.
"I'm done," I say quietly. Barely more than a breath. But he hears it.
Finally, something cracks through the concrete of his expression. He straightens from his seat, blinking like he's just now waking up. "What do you mean you're done?"
The question stings. This whole time, I've been yelling at a wall. He wasn't mentally present.
Well, fuck him.
I snatch up my bag from the chair near the door. "Get someone else to do it."
I make it two steps before he moves to block the door, planting himself in front of it like a barrier.
"Zuri, please."
"What?" I ask, fighting to keep my tone level. "You don't even care. There's something you're not telling me, and don't lie. This is more personal than you made it seem."
He turns the lock on the knob, the click echoing loud and deliberate. He steps closer, shrinking the distance between us.
I stand my ground.
"Even if there is something I'm not telling you," he says, his voice low, "which is not the case… it would be because it's not your concern."
I blink at him twice. "Why did you even hire me if you were going to be so secretive? Everything is my concern now, because you're the one who got me involved." I jab my index finger into his chest, punctuating each word.
His hand wraps around mine, firm but not harsh, and pushes it gently down to my side. "Calm down," he says, like a command.
And I do. Because maybe he's right. I'm overstepping. Whatever is going on between him and Makai... it isn't really about me. I was just the unfortunate piece he slid across the board.
I shake my wrist to hint that I want him to let go. "As I said before, get someone else to do it. Now get out of my way."
He unlocks the door and opens it slowly, stepping aside. "Before you make any rash decisions," he mutters, "I suggest you review the terms of the contract."
I roll my eyes and storm past him. I don't hear the door shut right away, so I slow down near the elevator, assuming he's still standing there. But when it finally slams, the sound is final.
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Relief hits me like a wave the second I step inside my penthouse. The tension in my body melts, and my shoulders drop like I've been holding up the sky all day. I toss my bag on the couch before dragging myself to it, collapsing into the cushions like dead weight.
My phone pings. A text.
It's from Tylon—of course. He's sent me a PDF attachment of the contract.
I scoff. He must be kidding. He can't seriously think he's going to scare me with this. What's he gonna do—sue me? If that contract ever saw the light of day, his reputation, his company, and his somewhat polished image would be shredded beyond repair.
Still, I open the file.
Two million dollars.
That's the fine for breaching the terms of our agreement.
I press two fingers to my temple. "Two million?" I mutter in disbelief. "Does this man think I'm poor?"
"I suggest you review the terms of the contract," I repeat, mocking his deep voice as I yank off my sneakers. "As if that's supposed to threaten me."
Two million is a dent. A deep one? Sure, but one that can be replenished. My fines aren't cheap, and you'd be surprised by the amounts people will pay to destroy someone. Not to mention, I've never failed.
So, although no one knows my name. The influence is widespread. My phone rings suddenly, cutting through my thoughts. I look at the caller ID, groaning when I see it's Tylon.
I answer after heavy consideration, putting him on speaker before getting up and walking to the kitchen. His voice filters through the speaker, lower this time. Regretful.
"Zuri?"
"Tylon." My tone is icy, more than I intend, but I don't plan to change it.
"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean for it to come to this," he mumbles, like he's not fully sober. Not that he ever really is.
"Come to what exactly?" I ask, grabbing a bottle of wine from the island's built-in cooler. I've had enough of today—enough of everything. I reach into the cabinet to pull down a glass. "The fact that you lied to me?"
"Yeah."
"You still there?" he adds after a moment of silence on my end.
I pour the wine slowly, relishing the soft splashes before taking a sip. "Unfortunately," I say flatly.
"Look, I know I acted like a total ass today. And you're right. There might be some things I haven't told you," he hesitates.
I take a deep breath, "You really don't have to apologise or do whatever this is. I meant what I said, Tylon."
"No. I have to, because I need you to do this. I can't have you back out on me."
The sound of his voice, his choice of words, leaves prickles in my chest. Why do I feel guilty?
"We both went to Yale, Makai and I. We've been rivals since," he finally says, revealing the stupid truth he's been keeping for so long. I pause mid-sip, rolling my eyes.
"You have no idea how childish that sounds," I mutter.
"You think it's childish, but this is my life, my legacy, and I can't have him ruining this for me. I have this fear that one day I'll wake up, and everything I've built will vanish with a snap of his finger."
I stop moving. For the first time since I answered the call, I listened. I hear the cracks in his voice, his vulnerability bleeding through the speaker. I sympathise.
Though I realise something else, Vaughn was right about Tylon seeing Makai as a threat.
But what makes him so dangerous? Could his cards be so intense that Tylon is guaranteed to lose?
That familiar pull returns—curiosity mixed with instinct. I should walk away from all of this. Wash my hands of their childish war.
But I won't, because I need to know what's behind these curtains, the real reason behind this rivalry.
I drain the glass before refilling it. Then my lips curl into a cool smirk. "That won't happen," I say quietly. "Because if you go down… he's going down with you."