CHAPTER 5 _ CAUGHT IN THE PREDATOR'S TRAP

GIDEON VALE

The elevator hummed silently.

It's enclosed walls offering the silence I treasured.

I stood alone, mind not able to shut off.

She was all I could think about.

The girl whose house you took is hard to ignore

Who does she think she is?

Giving me a message. A threat.

Audacity like that usually got people hurt, quickly.

She walked into my den without my permission.

Asked for me. Then somehow walked out alive.

The urge to put her in her place clawed at me.

I didn't like people who refused to cower when they were supposed to.

I especially didn’t like the fact that I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since.

The doors slid open cutting off my train of thought. A Lady made to come in before stopping in shock.

I was used to ladies being surprised to see me, it was a bore.

What I wasn't expecting was the disdain that replaced the shock.

She stuck her hand to stop the doors from closing before taking her time getting in.

We stood in silence for a few seconds.

"You haven't put in a floor" I noticed.

"I know" she answered sharply, eyes trained on the door.

My gaze sharpened. Suspicious. "Where are you going?"

She finally looked at me fully. Chin lifted. Her eyes burned bright with restrained fury.

“Wherever you’re going Gideon Vale.”

I stared at her in silence, accessing.

She was beautiful. Not in the normal doe eyes and pink cheeks way. Her eyes had the ability to snarl and snap. Her hair curled and curved everywhere, like she didn't care at all.

She was wild. Her little fragile frame was a stark contrast to the fire in her eyes. She looked at me like she wanted to beat the crap out of me. Weirdly, that interested me.

"Who are you? I asked.

She laughed. It was short and bitter.

"Oh fuck me! You don't even know me" she snapped. "Of course you don't. Why would you? You don't bother learning the names of the lives you ruin, do you? Huh?"

I opened my mouth to speak.

She cut me off immediately.

"I'm still talking"

Ha! Interesting. This one had guts.

"My name's Matilda Monroe" she continued, voice rising. "And you don't get to stand here and act all innocent and clueless, like you don't know exactly what you did"

Monroe. The name clicked.

So this was the infamous Matilda Monroe.

She's as daring as Kutcher described.

She wasn't dressed like a kindergarten teacher though. She looked daring in a black jumper and cargo boots. Like she was ready for war. Ready for me.

She stepped closer, words firing like bullets.

"Who gives a drunkard ten thousand dollars playing money?" She demanded. "What kind of company makes such dumb decisions?"

Her hands shook, she didn't care to hide it. She was so consumed in her feral anger and need to put me in my place.

"Miss Monroe, what-" I started.

She barked out a laugh, silencing me yet again.

I was entertaining her guts more than I should. Enjoying it. No one dared cut me off, but she did.

She didn't know the rules, and I was excited to teach her.

"And you sent you fucking gangster wannabe minions to bring the news like some underpaid grim reapers" she went on. "Why didn't you come yourself? Scared? Scared you'll get beaten up? Or scared that someone would look you dead in the fucking eye when you fucking steal their home?"

The elevator continued it's endless climb.

I didn't interrupt again.

No one had spoken to me like this and lived afterward.

And yet I found myself… listening.

"You think money makes you untouchable?" She hissed, eyes brimming red. "You think owning a company and some sketchy bar filled with scary looking people who are ready to suck your dick if you asked makes you some king of the jungle?. Well, I'm sorry to break the news to you, it fucking doesn't!!!" She shouted, poking my chest.

She took deep breaths, visibly calming from her outburst.

"You took the only thing that man left for us" she finished. "And I won't let you fuck me over"

The elevator dinged open.

I stepped past her.

Then turned, just enough to meet her gaze.

"Follow me"

Her mouth opens, then shuts again. She bit her lip, probably to stop another outburst.

Then she stepped out of the elevator.

The walk to my office is silent. I could feel the daggers she stared into my skull. Enjoyed that she loathed me. That made it fun.

My office swallowed her whole.

She looked so tiny in the middle of the monster.

Glass, steel and wood. A decor made to remind people how small they were.

I didn't sit immediately. I enjoyed making her uncomfortable.

Her eyes took in my office in disgust. She looked like she could tear down the walls and feed it to me.

"Now" I said calmly"Can we have a reasonable conversation?"

She scoffed. "So what have I been doing Gideon Vale? Conversing unreasonably? Who the hell-"

I crossed the distance between us in three steps.

My proximity shocked her. I saw it in the slight widening of her eyes.

I bent slightly, fingers lifting her chin without asking, forcing her to look at me.

Her breath hitched.

"You've been yapping carelessly for minutes Monroe." I said quietly. "And I'm only giving you the leniency of my time because I'm bored and you're the most interesting thing in weeks"

Her brows raised to her hairline.

"I'm giving you one second," I continued. "to get yourself together, sit your ass down, and tell me exactly what you want.”

She took few steps away from me, staggering in the process.

My hand shot out without permission, wrapping around her wrist.

I felt her pulse jump.

She slapped my hand away.

"Don't touch me" she snapped, voice shaking. "You know nothing of personal space, do you?"

"You walk into my bar, then walk into my company, both unannounced. And you talk about personal space Monroe?" I smirked.

I turned away first. Took my seat behind the desk.

I pointed to the seat in front of me. "Sit".

She hesitated. I could see the war between her Pride and desperation evident in her eyes.

Then she sat, stiffly. desperation having won.

She perched on the edge of the chair. Like she didn't trust it to carry her.

I leaned back and folded my hands. Studied her the way I studied contracts before deciding whether to ruin someone.

“Now,” I said evenly, “talk. And do it like a professional.”

I watched her close her eyes and take a deep breath, then another. Like a habit.

I could see her shoulders sag, then square up.

Then she spoke.

"You made a dumb financial decision by giving my father that amount of money" she said. "And I won't let your choices affect I and my mother's lives."

"I don’t care what clauses you hide behind or how airtight your contracts are,” she continued, voice steadier now. “You made a wrong call and now, you've got a bad debt. Sort it out yourself. Leave us out of it."

"Miss Monroe," I started slowly. "You're a smart girl, so I won't have to repeat myself. Your father walked through my den doors, signed a legally binding deal with me. Happily took the money he begged for. I don't know what he did with it, honestly, I don't care."

I took a deliberate pause, made sure my words sank in.

"He missed his monthly payments for several months, thereby increasing the previous interest. We confronted him on it, he said we should take the house and everything in it."

I saw the disappointment cease her features.

"We have audio proof just in case you need evidence" I continued. "We were just being empathic letting you and your mother leave with the clothes on your back. Don't take our empathy for weakness Monroe"

A tear slid down her cheeks and she angrily swipped at it. She didn't want to break in front of me. And I didn't want her to. Not yet.

I wanted to break her bit by bit. Till she was a teary mess.

I imagined it without warning.

Her defiant mouth quieted.

Her fire focused.

That sharp boldness bent until it fit neatly in my palm.

The urge to take her hit me like a vice.

Not gently.

Not sweetly.

To tame.

To break the illusion that she was hunting anything here.

She wasn’t the predator.

She was my prey.

"How do I get my house back Gideon Vale?"

She looked me straight in my eye. Spine straight. Defiant.

She didn't give up easily. I liked it.

I didn't care about her house. It was a block of old wood and bricks.

But if pretending to care gave me liberty and time to toy with her, slowly bend her into submission, then I would care.

"I want to see you" I said.

"What?" Her confusion was instant.

“When I wake up,” I continued. “When I drink my coffee. When I leave my house. When I get to work.”

She stared at me in alarm.

“When I’m working. When I leave. When I go to the bar. When I’m at the bar.”

She looked at me like I’d finally confirmed her worst assumption.

“You’re insane.”

"I'm glad you know Monroe" I agreed. "These are my terms"

She stood up, the chair scraping on the floor.

"You're insane" she repeated loudly.

She made to move.

"If you walk out that door, you forget you have a house Matilda Monroe. And your mother can find where else she'd sleep." I said calmly.

She looked at me like she could destroy me.

We both knew she'd lost this round.