Chapter 51 Breaking Points
JEREMY
The Chicago meetings had dragged on for hours.
The company was expanding its territory into the Midwest. We are exploring new shipping routes. We were entering into partnership agreements with local families. These negotiations necessitated patience, diplomacy, and a level of focus that I was finding difficult to sustain.
My mind kept drifting. Back to New York. I found myself drawn back to the estate. Returning back to Amelia.
Was she okay? Was she following the rules? Was she safe?
I'd called Luca twice yesterday. Both times he'd assured me everything was fine. Amelia was in the wing. No problems.
Now it was nearly 8pm on the second day. The final meeting had just concluded. Contracts were signed, and deals were made. Business successfully completed.
I was exhausted. Starving. My head pounded from hours of tense conversation.
I collapsed onto the hotel bed and pulled out my phone, intending to order room service.
Twelve missed calls. All from Luca.
I also received a text message containing a video attachment.
Boss, we have a problem.
My stomach dropped.
I clicked on the video.
The footage was shaky—shot quickly, from outside looking through a window. The video captured the interior of a café. Corner table.
And Amelia.
She was sitting across from someone. A man. Young and well-dressed, leaning forward like they were in intimate conversation.
I turned up the volume.
I couldn't hear their words clearly through the glass, but I could hear Amelia's laugh. Bright. Open. Genuine.
The man said something else. Amelia laughed again, her whole face transforming. Happy. Relaxed.
She appeared more at ease than I had ever witnessed.
She was with a stranger.
The video ended.
I stared at the screen, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Who the fuck was that?
I dialled Luca. He answered on the first ring.
"Boss—"
"Explain." My voice was deadly calm. "Now."
He began, "She begged me to let her go for a walk. Just around the grounds, she said. I agreed. Then Dominic called with a security issue and while I was on the phone, she—she disappeared."
"Disappeared."
"I found her at a café outside the gates. With him. They appeared to know each other, boss. They were talking, laughing. It wasn't a first meeting."
My hand tightened on the phone. "Who is he?"
"I don't know for certain. But one of the gate guards described him as Russian. Young, expensive suit, accent."
Russian.
Volkov.
Had to be. The Volkov heir was always kept private.
"Did you get a name?"
"She called him Alex. That's all I heard before I got her out of there."
Alex. Alexei Volkov. Viktor's son.
The Volkov heir was having coffee with Amelia. He was making her laugh out loud. He was making her feel comfortable.
And they'd met before.
"Where is she now?" I asked.
"Back at the estate. In your wing. I've got Nico watching the entrance. She's not going anywhere."
"Good." I stood and started pacing. "Did she say how she knows him?"
"No. When I confronted her, she just said she was having coffee with a friend. A friend, boss. She referred to Volkov as a friend.
This could be attributed to her lack of knowledge. She had no idea who Alex really was. She was unaware of the family to which Alex belonged. What danger he represented.
"Does she know?" I asked. "That he's Volkov?"
"I don't think so. She seemed confused when I dragged her out. It was as if she didn't understand why I was upset.
Of course she didn't understand. To her, he was just Alex. Some kind guy who'd helped her. Who'd treated her like a normal person. He had a knack for making her laugh.
He had become closer to her than I had ever been before.
"Boss? What do you want me to do?"
"Lock down the wing. Only you and Nico are allowed in or out. Amelia doesn't leave for any reason. I don't care if she begs. I don't care if she cries. She stays inside until I get back."
"Understood. When are you coming back?"
"Tonight. I'm catching the next flight out." I grabbed my suitcase and started throwing clothes into it. "I'll be there by midnight."
"Okay. And boss? I'm sorry. I should have watched her closer—"
"We'll discuss your failure when I get there." I hung up before he could respond.
My hands were shaking. With anger. I couldn't name the other emotion that was causing the shakes.
I pulled up the video again. Watched it on repeat.
Amelia laughing. Smiling. Comfortable.
With him.
With a Volkov.
The enemy.
The family that had tried to claim her through Miguel's debt scheme. The family was constantly testing our boundaries, looking for weaknesses.
And now their heir had found the perfect weakness.
Her.
My Amelia.
Except she wasn't mine. She was an employee. Someone under my protection. Nothing more.
So why did seeing her with someone else feel like a knife in my chest?
Why did the sound of her laughter—directed at him, not me—make me want to put my fist through a wall?
Why did the thought of Alexei Volkov making her smile, making her feel normal, and making her trust him?
Why did that make me feel like I was losing something I'd never had?
I watched the video again.
The way she leaned forward when he spoke. The way her face lit up when she laughed. The way she looked—free.
Freer than she'd ever looked with me.
Because with me, she was always careful. Always guarded. Always aware that I was dangerous, that my world was dangerous, that everything was complicated.
But with him?
She'd let her guard down.
What if she liked him?
The thought hit me like a physical blow.
What if she liked him better than me? What if his normalcy, his friendliness, and his ability to make her laugh mattered more than everything I'd done for her?
What if I was losing her to a fucking Volkov?
"No." I said it out loud. Firm. Final. "No."
She was mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. Mine to—
The glass in my hand—the water glass from the hotel nightstand—exploded against the window.
Shattered. Fragments scattering across the carpet.
I stared at my empty hand, at the broken glass, at the crack that was spider-webbing across the window.
I'd thrown it. Without thinking. Without control.
The thought of her being with him—laughing with him, trusting him, and choosing him—
It made me lose control.
I took a breath. Then another. Tried to calm the rage burning through my veins.
This was jealousy. I was overcome with pure, irrational jealousy.
Over a woman who wasn't mine. Who I had no claim to. She was free to have coffee with whoever she wanted.
Except she wasn't free. She was under my protection. She was under my protection in my home. Working for me.
And the man she'd had coffee with was the enemy.
That's what this was about. Security. Safety. Making sure she understood the danger.
Not jealousy.
Not the sick feeling in my stomach at the thought of her preferring someone else.
I am not enraged at seeing her smile at another man.
Just... it's just security instinct.