Chapter 113
Chapter 113:
The office door opened. Hilliard walked in, holding a file. He stopped when he saw Charla sitting in his chair, his phone pressed to her ear.
His expression darkened instantly. “Who is that p>
Charla startled. She fumbled with the phone. “It — it was a spam call. I hung up p>
She ended the call and tossed the phone onto the desk as if it had burned her.
Hilliard crossed the room in three long strides, snatched the phone, and checked the log.
Last Call: Cali — 24 seconds.
His eyes turned to ice. He looked at Charla. “You hung up on my business partner p>
ո𝗈𝗏еlѕ 𝗶n 𝘵𝗋еո𝘥 𝘰𝘯
“She was flirting with you!” Charla cried, rising from the chair. “She called your private line. Why does she even have it p>
“Get out,” Hilliard said. He pointed to the door. His voice was low, completely devoid of emotion.
“But Hilliard p>
“Get. Out p>
Charla grabbed her purse and fled, sobbing.
Hilliard stared at the phone for a long moment before pressing redial.
It went straight to voicemail.
In Brooklyn, Cailin was staring at her phone, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. She declined the call.
“He’s with her,” she whispered to Ashely. “He lets her answer his phone p>
She wiped her eyes furiously and straightened.
“I’m going to that dinner,” she said. “And I’m going to make him regret ever meeting me p>
A private booth at a restaurant was safer, more controlled than the apartment — neutral ground. Ashely, Cailin, and Elia arrived just minutes before Hilliard was due. Cailin scanned the room, her nerves stretched taut.
They slid into the large, U-shaped booth. Elia settled between the two women, a small, innocent buffer in the middle of a war zone.
Then two small figures darted from behind a decorative potted palm near the entrance and wedged themselves into the booth without warning.
Aron and Davy.
“We are not staying home!” Aron crossed his arms, his face a perfect, miniature mirror of Hilliard’s stubbornness.
“We want to see the Bad Man,” Davy added, his eyes wide with an uneasy mixture of fear and determination.
“He will be here in two minutes!” Cailin checked her watch. Cold, sharp panic seized her. “You can’t be seen — you look exactly like him p>
Footsteps approached the heavy velvet curtain of their alcove.
“Under the table. Now!” Cailin ordered in a fierce whisper.
Aron and Davy scrambled beneath the long, floor-length tablecloth without another word. Cailin kicked their stray sneakers under the heavy linen just as she heard Hilliard’s voice outside. She smoothed the cloth, her heart hammering against her ribs.
The curtain parted.
Hilliard entered. He looked impeccable in a charcoal suit, the fabric expensive and perfectly tailored. He brought with him the scent of the city and costly cologne. He looked dangerous.
“Ladies.” He nodded, his eyes landing on Cailin immediately.
“You didn’t answer my call back,” he said softly as he sat down.
“I was in the shower,” Cailin said, throwing Charla’s lie back at him with a voice dripping with ice.