Blyssful Lies (The Blyss Trilogy 2)

I point my finger at him in protest. “Don’t start,” I threaten. “Do not provoke me.”

Immediately, he holds up his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t going to say a word. I was simply admiring your handiwork.” Jared then enters the room carefully, side stepping piles of broken glass, and miscellaneous debris. He has to take a big step over the coffee pot which has been broken in two. Stopping in front of me, he looks up from the maze on the floor he just took, and cautiously comments, “Justin sent me in here to run interference. Apparently, you had another altercation with him.”

“Just a minor one this time,” I state calmly. Jared holds his tongue. I know he wants to tell me to take it easy on Justin, but he won’t. He knows not to interfere with how I handle my men.

“Well, he sent me in here to tell you he had to leave a message for the president of the company, but his receptionist assured Justin he’d get back with you pronto.” He cocks his head to the side, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Seems as if the entire company has had no choice but to get to know you on a first name basis, and succumbing to your every demand at the drop of a hat.”

“They should, I’ve made it worth their while to accommodate me,” I state frankly.

Jared scratches his head. “Yeah, especially with the rate your accommodating them. I think it would’ve been cheaper had you bought out the company.”

“Not a bad idea. I still might just do that.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already moved in with the CEO of the company so you could personally assist him in expediting your requests,” he taunts, trying to make light of the demands I’ve placed on this man’s company. It’s true; I have been a brutal pain in their ass every minute of every day. I’m sure the company is working with expediency just to get rid of my hounding ass.

“Damn, Travis,” I mumble, “what the hell is he doing?” I ask Jared, looking him straight in the eyes. “I still can’t figure out what in the Hell would’ve had Travis leaving New York City on a red eye flight, and then decide to come back here in the middle of the night, doing what he did. Travis is a stealthy son-of-a-bitch, and he would have thought this out with better precision than what he did. The plan Travis executed wasn’t his style.” I shake my head, pondering the thought for the hundredth time. “The methods and strategy he used was a little too haphazard for his liking; it’s almost as if his decision was an impromptu one,” I say, cocking my head to the side, and eyeing Jared with speculation.

“Nick, I seriously don’t know anything. You know how hard it is to get a read on Travis. He’s a closed-off island, unto himself. I bet God himself couldn’t figure out what goes on in that mind of his.”

I have interrogated Jared a thousand times about this very topic, and frustratingly enough, it’s the same answer every damn time; nobody knows jack-shit. Every time Jared tells me he knows nothing, he gets this sheepish look on his face, and that uncomfortable exhibitionism right there tells me something is off, but he continually denies knowing anything.

I take a step forward and poke my index finger into his chest with enough force to make him stumble back a step, and speak in a threatening tone, “If I find out you know something and you’re withholding important information from me, I will personally snap your neck…and that is not a threat. I don’t care if you are the inventor of Blyss.” I point back to myself using my thumb in gesture. “I’m the top dog here. I’m the one in control, and everyone here is replaceable, including you.”

Jared swipes at a few hairs which have fallen in his eyes, pushing his bangs off to the side of his face, a notorious signal he’s nervous. It’s always been his telltale sign, and I can’t tell if it’s my edginess making him this way, or if he truly knows something and is hiding it. I have to give him the benefit of the doubt that it’s my constant state of vexation keeping him on edge. I know he can’t handle the cutthroat side of this business; he would do anything to avoid it because he has too soft a heart.

Justin erupts into the room at break neck speed, stumbling over a broken chair. His eyes are wide and he’s breathing heavily. Both Jared and I look at him in confusion. “Nick,” he utters on a winded breath, “Mitchell says he has acquired a serious lead, and to get ready to assemble some men. If all works out, you should have her back in a couple days.”