“Better give Creed a call, to give him a heads-up. The prick will be suing your ass.”
“No, he won’t.” Desmond began walking toward the garage, knowing without looking that the Predator would be following his steps. “Have Max swing by where Zach lives and have him show that asshole how I expect women in my employ to be treated.”
Jackal casually strolled up next to him, easily keeping up with his stride. “What did he do?”
“I only heard a portion of their conversation. What I did hear was Zach calling Haley a fat bitch.”
Jackal gave a low whistle. “The fucker was brave after you told all your employees to be on their best behavior around her.”
“Exactly. When I give an order, I expect it to be carried out.”
Jackal gave him a sidelong look. “Don’t snap at me. I’m not the one who called her a fat bitch.”
Desmond pressed the button on his Mercedes’ key fob. “Make sure it’s the last time that Zach does. I’m not happy, and I want Zach to experience my unhappiness.”
“I’ll make sure Max expresses your dissatisfaction.”
Desmond didn’t miss the shrewd look Jackal gave him as he folded his long legs into his car and tossed his briefcase into the passenger seat.
“You sure Zach is the real reason you’re angry?” Jackal asked perceptively.
“Other than I pay the Predators for bodyguard protection around the clock and didn’t get my money’s worth tonight?” he asked snidely.
“Seems to me you’re more upset that you’re not the one driving Miss Fancy Pants home.”
“Haley’s more a bookworm than a fancy pants,” Desmond said without responding to Jackal’s observation. He wasn’t upset that he wasn’t driving Haley home. He didn’t get upset over women.
“Either way, neither one is your type of women. You going to have to change your plans for her?”
No, he wasn’t going to change his plans for Haley. His revenge was etched in stone and wasn’t going to be rewritten because the bookworm wasn’t reacting the way women normally responded to him.
What he couldn’t understand was why. He had never come across a man or woman whom he couldn’t charm his way into their life and manipulate them the way he wanted to. He had spent the first fifteen years of his life scraping by to survive, learning from trial and error what would give him a respite from hunger pangs and a roof over his head each day.
What humanity he’d had, had been ground out of him when he had lost the only woman he had loved. The years ahead had been forged with one goal in mind—to make enough money that he was never helpless again and exact revenge for Aanya.
Profound hatred for Ivan Pavlov consumed his every waking hour. Haley Clark was the key to achieving the goal he had set for himself. Unfortunately, the bookworm was stymieing him from moving forward in his plan.
Desmond broached the subject to Jackal that was becoming more mystifying as the months went along. “No. She’s just shy. I just need to change my methods.”
Desmond didn’t appreciate the mocking smile the Predators’ enforcer gave him at his confidence.
“Okay …” he drawled out slowly. “You keep doing you and don’t ask for my advice, and see where it gets you—Nowhereville.”
“You think you’d do better?”
“I would. Fortunately for you, I’m a married man.”
“Which still amazes me.” Especially after he had met the woman whom Jackal was married to.
Jackal gave him a crooked smile. “She hated my guts when we first met. It was my winning personality that eventually won her over,” he joked.
Desmond knew that Jackal didn’t believe his own joke.
As he stared at his long fingers on the steering wheel to avoid eye contact, the question came out of his lips, “How did you really change Penny’s mind?”
Jackal took so long to reply that Desmond didn’t think he was going to answer and started to reach out to close the car door. Jackal caught it, preventing him.
“I kept putting myself near enough to her that the attraction outweighed her feeling of distaste for me,” Jackal divulged. “Which wasn’t easy. Like I said, she hated my guts.”
“Why did she hate you so much?”
“Probably had something to do with me kidnapping her ass. Took her a while to get over that.”
“That would do it,” Desmond agreed.
“Seems to me the only hitch preventing you from hooking up with the bookworm is lack of motivation on your part. She doesn’t have any reason to hate you. I’m stumped at what the hold-up is. I’ve seen your regular booty calls; none of them look alike, but what they do have in common is them waiting on stand-by for when you’re in the mood for a date or a fuck. Those bitches keep their phones close, waiting for your texts, because they know you plan your hook-ups two weeks in advance, and if they miss your text or call, you’ll just move on to the next bitch on your list. Fuck, even your one-nighters are planned in advance. You’re trying to pretend to be spontaneous when you ask her out, yet you’re not even interested in her enough that you want to fuck her is going to come across as fake as fuck, which is why you’ve been cock-blocking yourself.”