5. Leo

"Oh? What's the status?" Khiro asked.

"I need updates. Talk." My voice was sharp, commanding. No time for games.

Every damn day, I get closer to justice. Closer to the bastard who ruined my life. But something always gets in the way. Always pulling me back from delivering the revenge I've been dying for.

"We've locked down five of his possible locations. Our guys are watching each one for any movement. You want to take a point, or should we handle it?"

"He killed my mother." My fist clenched tight. "This is personal. Leave him to me."

"Got it. It's your call, Leo. Just remember-we've only got coordinates. We still don't know who their top man is. And this bastard moves. A lot. We're trying to figure out how he keeps playing the system."

"I'll never forget his face. That smug look he gave after taking my mother's life... I see it every night. But when we meet again, the last thing he'll ever see is my face." I ended the call without waiting for a reply.

Ten years. Ten long years since I last saw him. And for every year, every day he breathed-I've stacked a debt. And I'll make damn sure he pays in full.

The door creaked open. I turned. It was my assistant-my sweet, innocent assistant.

She was panting, skin glistening with sweat. Probably ran all the way here. Fuck, just the sight of her had my cock twitching.

"So-sorry, sir..." She leaned against the doorframe, trying to catch her breath.

"Do you even know what time it is?" I asked, keeping my tone controlled.

"Sorry, sir. Traffic." Her chest rose and fell with each breath, and my eyes locked on the subtle bounce.

"What the hell are you wearing?" I narrowed my eyes, scanning her from head to toe.

She had no clue what she was doing to me. That dress hugged her too perfectly-her creamy legs, her elegant neck. I had to grit my teeth to hold back the images flooding my mind.

"Follow me."

...

I parked outside a salon. As much as I enjoyed seeing her in that dress, I didn't enjoy the stares my male staff kept giving her. I'm territorial, and I don't like to share.

A young man named Fabio greeted us. Best stylist in town-and my cousin.

"Damn. She's beautiful. Your girlfriend?"

He looked her up and down like she was art. And even though I knew he liked men, I didn't like him admiring my woman.

"She's my secretary. We've got a high-stakes meeting today. Make her look sharp."

I handed her a paper bag. Inside was her uniform: crisp white blouse, fitted black skirt, and a slim blazer.

I'll be honest-I couldn't stop thinking about that outfit when I first got it. I even got myself off just looking at her skirt. The way the fabric clung, how it would look with my cum painted on it... or better-on her skin, or dripping down her throat like her favorite drink.

But I'm not a complete bastard. I wiped it off before handing it over.

While they worked on her look, I waited in the lobby. My phone rang-an important call.

"Talk."

"I found her. Full name. Address. Background. Work details. Everything."

Tyellian.

...

"Sir, Mr. Navickas will be arriving around 3 PM. I can prep the boardroom by 2, and if we get there by 1:30, I'll have enough time to set up," she reminded me.

"No problem. I'll make sure we're on time."

The ride was quiet. A little too quiet. She tried to break it.

"So... tell me something about you."

She was the first woman I ever let eat in my car.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" I asked, casually handing her a tissue for the ketchup on her lip. She took it with a small nod. She didn't know what that tissue had been through.

"No, I don't," she replied.

I smirked. Oblivious. Completely.

"When do you want to get married?" I asked directly.

"I'm not sure... I want to be successful first. I want to take care of my family."

When I ran out of questions, she asked something that made me tense up.

"Sir... where did you get that bracelet?"

My hand gripped the wheel tighter. I glanced at the wooden beads on my wrist.

"My first love gave it to me. In Pangasinan."

I ran my tongue along my lower lip before saying her name.

"Tyellian."

||R.A||

RAENA ALMEDA