His Every Desire
“I can't do that,” Mr. Hayes answered, crossing his arms. “The deal was and still is non-negotiable.”
John's cheeks flushed. “You have no right to keep tabs on her after what you did.”
“After what I did?” Mr. Hayes' voice grew louder before he could contain himself. He glanced around the room, making sure no one was looking at them. “I'm not the one who attempted to murder someone.”
“She was only doing what she felt she had to,” John insisted. Tracy would have snorted if her head didn't feel like it was going to explode.
“Had to?” Mr. Hayes scoffed. The beginnings of anger flashed in his eyes. “How is poisoning someone anywhere close to justified?”
“After what you did to her?” John sneered. His pale eyes were more ice than living creature.
“I didn't do a damn thing to her,” Mr. Hayes retorted.
“Raping her? Forcing her to do those sexually deviant things with your so-called girlfriend?” John looked over at Tracy and shook his head in disgust. “That girl adored you, Paul. She would have done anything for you. And you did that.”
“What?” Paul stood up, knocking his chair back in the process. “That is a bald faced lie, John. If that's what she told you, then you need to have a little chat with your daughter. She pushed for what happened that night as a full-grown woman. She knew exactly what she was doing.”
“How dare you, Paul?” John Tice growled. The man's face was a mask of rage. “I asked you here to give you the benefit of the doubt. I thought I could talk to you like a man, but now I see you're nothing more than a spoiled rich boy.”
Mr. Hayes face was a mask of fury. Tracy was afraid that he might actually hit the other man.
“Mr. Tice, I'm afraid this isn't going to work out,” she said, standing despite the way it made her head wobble. She took Mr. Hayes' arm. “Jenna walked us into her apartment that night knowing full well what her actions were. If she has told you anything different, then she's just trying to keep her father happy.”
“You whore,” John spat at her.
If her head didn't feel like it was on fire, she would have hit him.
“Better a whore than a murderer,” she hissed. “But then, your daughter is both, so it might be difficult for you to understand.”
“Get out.” John slammed his hands on the table, spilling his drink all over the dark wood.
“Gladly,” Mr. Hayes replied. “The deal still stands, John. If you try to change it, I will come after you with the full force of the law. You know I can.”
“I said, get out,” John repeated.
Mr. Hayes took Tracy's arm and escorted her out of the building. She was glad he had a good grip on her, even if it was too tight. Her head was spinning and lights were flashing in random places through her vision.
The cool night air hit her face and kept the growing nausea at bay, but she knew she needed to go lay down and sleep or her head was going to explode. She'd
never had this happen before, and if she hadn't been in so much pain, she would have been worried. As it was, she could barely concentrate on standing.
“Can we go home?” she asked, leaning heavily against Mr. Hayes.
“Of course,” he promised her. “You were right. This wasn't such a good idea.”
Chapter 17
A thundering crash echoed through the empty kitchen when a towering stack of brand-new, stainless-steel sauce pans toppled over.
"Damn it," Tracy mumbled, just in time to step out of harm’s way.
The stack of cookware, worth thousands of dollars, hit the red tile floor so hard that pans flew in every direction.
By the time the last pan stopped clattering and dancing, Tracy could feel a rising tide of frustration in the pit of her stomach. There wasn’t much time left before the restaurant – her restaurant – was set to open, and it felt like absolutely nothing had been done. The kitchen needed to be set up, the employees still needed to be finalized, the design crew still had to finish work on the dining room. And what made Tracy more nervous than anything was her appointment with her new head chef: Gordon Baxter.
An esteemed chef with dozens of prestigious awards under his apron, Gordon had only agreed to work for Tracy for a salary that ate up much of the restaurant’s start-up budget. If she couldn’t get a constant stream of people coming in the door, there was no way she could afford to keep him on the payroll.
Of course, Tracy knew that her lover, self-made billionaire Paul Hayes, wouldn’t even bat an eye at forking over hundreds of thousands of dollars to keep her afloat. He had done exactly that, paying off all her bills just for a chance at being with her. But, as their relationship started to grow, she found herself less and less interested in what his money could do for her. Having all of those bills off her back was the most liberating thing she’d ever experienced. In the back of her head, however, there was always a nagging feeling of guilt. She ran her fingers through her long, loose hair and leaned back against the shining stainless freezer door., then she let herself slide to the floor.