Breaking Meredith

“Tired, princess?” Simon asks, pulling me closer to him.

“No, just bored.”

“Almost done,” he says and double-clicks his mouse.

A big, beefy man covered in tattoos appears on the screen. The man is roaming around the outside of an ugly industrial warehouse building. Checking the doors, windows, and perimeter.

I suppress another yawn. “Who’s that?”

“Thaddeus.”

“Are you checking on all of your men?”

“Yes.”

“Do they know you’re checking in on them?”

“Doubtful.”

I snort softly. “So I’m not special, am I?

Simon sounds genuinely confused when he asks, “Why would you think that?”

“You watch everyone, Simon.” I point out.

Which makes more than half the shit he told me last night absolute garbage. Gah, I can’t believe he made me feel like his watching me was so much more than it was. And I really don’t know why that it bothers me that it’s not, but it does. If anything I should be relieved, not annoyed with him.

“Yes, but only because we’re in a time of crisis.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes. “It’s still the same.”

His hand leaves the mouse and he grabs me by the chin, forcing me to look up at him. “You think I watch the men like I watch you?”

A slow smirk stretches across my lips. He walked himself right into that one. “Yes.”

His eyes narrow and his grip on my chin increases. “You’re wrong.”

“Prove it,” I dare him.

I want to see what the hell he has on me. If he has anything.

Simon stares at me long and hard, and so many emotions flicker in the depths his dark eyes my chest tightens.

“Very well,” he sighs with a look of resignation.

His fingers release my chin and he reaches for his mouse.

I turn, settling myself comfortably on his lap with my back against his chest, and look to the screen. Both eager and a little apprehensive to see what he’s about to show me.

He clicks around with his mouse and his other arm unwraps from around my midsection so he can type on his keyboard. His body curls around mine as he leans forward.

“I have six hard drives dedicated specifically to you. One for each year,” he says as he types something in one-handed. “And everything is backed up on a secure cloud service.”

The screen flashes to a desktop then several windows pop up, each one a different folder. The folders are named in code, each beginning with an ‘M’ followed by a long set of numbers.

“What would you like to see?”

I stare at all the files stuffed in the folders, unable to tell what any of them hold. There’s no previews, no clue of the contents in the file names. It’s all some weird system only he must know.

Five years. Over five years of my life is at his fingertips, if he can be believed. I try to think of some special moment I’d like to relive again, but only come up empty.

I finally settle on, “Show me your favorite.”

Simon’s body tenses around mine. I guess he wasn’t expecting that.

This should be good. I almost wish I had that popcorn now. If I had to place a bet, I’d bet his favorite moment is probably me in the shower.

The mouse circles around and around on the screen. No doubt he’s carefully considering what he wants to show me. He’s probably trying to figure out what I want to see.

Finally, he double-clicks on a file in the dead center of the first folder. The scene that pops up confuses me at first. It takes me several seconds to place it.

But when I do, I turn to look up at him in shock. “This is your favorite?”

Simon’s chest rises against me as he sucks in a deep breath.

“Yes,” he exhales slowly, looking at the screen and not at me. Purposely avoiding meeting my eyes. “Out of all the moments I’ve watched of your life, this is by far my favorite.”

I look back to the screen, my skin tingling and my breath quickening. If this is truly Simon’s favorite moment, then I’ve read him wrong. Very, very wrong.

On the screen I’m leaning against a balcony, watching a sunset with a serene expression on my face. A breeze teases my then dark hair and the corners of my lips are tipped up as I gaze at the horizon.

The backdrop is absolutely gorgeous. A white sandy beach stretches below the balcony, and foamy, white waves lap at the sand. The sky is painted in vivid blue, warm orange, bright yellow, and deep pink.

I remember this moment very well. In fact, it’s one of the most peaceful moments of my life. I was in Barbados, taking a breather after destroying my first mark and contemplating my next move.

The man I destroyed was a despicable weasel of a man by the name of Russel Clay. A Real Estate banker, he liked to prey on the elderly and poor by issuing them predatory loans and then foreclosing on their homes.