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As the door to Gus's new office opened, he heard the uncertainty in the soft feminine voice that spoke, "Oh . . . thank you so much."

With her hand flittering up around her neckline and a pinkish hue on her cheeks, Michelle Callahan all but floated into his office. The door was shut behind her by an unseen hand. She glanced around the cramped space, making no comment about the noticeable drop in status.

"There's a man sitting outside," she whispered with wide eyes, glancing over her shoulder toward the door as though she were delivering an invaluable secret.

"You can ignore that asshole," Gus muttered. "He wasn't rude was he?"

"Oh, no," she cooed. "He was quite the gentleman. He opened the door for me."

Inwardly Gus seethed. He hated being watched over like an errant child. It didn't help that the man Louis had assigned to do the job was well over six feet tall with an abundance of muscle, a bald head, and a pearly white smile. With all that testosterone shadowing him, Gus felt like an errant child every time he stepped outside of his office. The fact that the fucker had an easy time of it with the ladies—according to Michelle's flush that refused to fade—only added to Gus's feeling of inferiority.

And he vented it all on her.

"He won't be so gallant once he finds out why you come here every month."

The lingering smile fell from her face as her eyes sought out the ground.

Not so giddy now are we? Gus stood up and walked over to her. She was as beautiful as ever, hair falling in a shiny blonde tumble to her shoulders and ending in a flip, makeup done with a classic look. The red lipstick was a bit much for his taste, but whatever—where those lips were going, smeared lipstick was not a problem.

It used to stroke his ego that she would spend the time to look good for him despite the fact that it was a forced arrangement. Now it just irritated him.

But lately all women irritated him.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" he said, unzipping his fly.

With a lift of her chin, she gave off a haunting pride reminiscent to that of a sinking ship as she slowly lowered to her knees in front of him.

"Um . . . you're . . ."

"Shut up and do something about it." Gus closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as her hands touched him. It was no use. The stress, irritation, and fury born from the events of the last few weeks refused to give him a moment's peace.

He was as flaccid as warm dough. Nothing was going to make it rise.

"Get out," he yelled, pushing her away to do his pants back up.

Michelle scrambled to her feet looking confused. "What about—"

He grabbed her arm and propelled her toward the door. Yanking it open, the sight of Mr. Clean standing at the other side had his dick shriveling even further. Fury roared through Gus's veins and he gave Michelle a hard shove.

As she stumbled through the doorway, the guard put his arm out to steady her. After a shaky "I'm okay" from the damsel in distress, her hero let her go and gave Gus the filthiest of looks.

Gus slammed the door in his face and reached for his cell phone.

When Enzo's mediocre replacement finally picked up, he hissed, "I want that cop bitch found, and I want her found now!"


"Hey, Major. Your doctor is here."

Bruce twisted his head in the direction his observant dining buddy was nodding. The lunch hour was winding down and most people had already left the hall. Sure enough, Claire was lowering her tray onto the surface of one of the long tables across the aisle. It was a shock to see her—she never ate in the mess hall.

The Silent Ones [✔️] (#2 in the Chilvati Series)Where stories live. Discover now