What the hell did she think she was doing? Had she picked up some local? Or some bloody fucking tourist?
He should have insisted she stay here with him, but no, he’d sent her to the tiny flat Brian used to use because he wasn’t ready to make his play. In Dubai, he intended to meet with some doctors who could use “inventive new therapies” to strengthen his legs. He’d also scheduled some plastic surgeries of a most unusual variety. Thomas Molina had several spinal surgeries over his miserable life. The lack of scars hadn’t mattered until he’d decided to take Avery into his bed. She would be looking for scars and thin legs. He had to have a reason they were stronger than they looked. The whores he paid didn’t give a shit, didn’t even realize who he was.
Who he was supposed to be. Fuck. Sometimes it got jumbled in his head. He needed to get rid of the fucking cane so he could be a man again.
He was sick of the cane, and god he hated that fucking wheelchair. He was a man. He was a brilliant man who’d killed his way to the top, and the fact that he couldn’t just throw down Avery was starting to chafe. She should be in his bed, begging for his cock.
He should be her god.
Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as he’d thought.
Who was this fucker?
Molina took a long breath. He hadn’t gotten where he was by being impulsive. He also was a brilliant judge of character. Avery was sweet and lonely, and he’d waited too long to make his move. He’d put it off because dealing with Eli Nelson was harder now that he’d left the Agency.
Nelson was a danger to everything he held dear. Nelson was also necessary to the Lachlan Bates deal.
Ten million was too much to push aside because his dick wanted to play with someone he didn’t have to pay.
He forced himself to calm down. If he called back, he could lose her. He had to play the supportive boss. He’d been right in the first place. He needed to cull her from the herd. He needed her alone and vulnerable.
This was a long game, and he was damn good at long games. Patience had gotten him to where he was. Patience and the willingness to destroy anyone who got in his way. Even his own family. Taking care of some tourist would be a breeze.
He’d purposefully squashed her friendships here in London. A word here and a word there and suddenly no one invited her to lunch, and she was perfectly free to spend her afternoons with him. It would be even easier in Dubai. She would feel much more isolated as a woman in a Muslim country. He would make sure the people around her were friendly enough, but they would keep their distance. She would be alone, and she would feel the need to have a man protect her.
But it wouldn’t hurt to figure out who this fucker she was seeing was before he killed him. A man in his position couldn’t be too careful. The last thing he needed was some dumbass intelligence agent bumbling in and fucking everything up.
He pressed a button on his desk, and within seconds his door opened.
“You rang, sir?” Malcolm was dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit. On paper, he was Thomas Molina’s driver. In truth, he was so much more important. Malcolm was his enforcer. Malcolm had been with him since the day of his rebirth. He did have Eli Nelson to thank for that.
“I need you to find Avery and follow her.”
Malcolm’s expression never left the blank, bland facade he wore even when he was slitting a throat. “Should I kill her, sir?”
Again, he was forced to hold his temper. “No. She’s got a boyfriend.”
“Will wonders never cease?”
“I don’t need your sarcasm.” Malcolm had made it clear he didn’t understand his attraction to Avery, but then the man had no use for innocence. As far as Molina knew, Malcolm’s grand love was his SIG Sauer and his bank account. “I need information on the man. I have a trace on her phone. Call her if you need to find her, but as far as I know, she was visiting the Tower of London this morning. I don’t want her to know she’s being watched.”
“And what should I do with this boyfriend of hers?” Malcolm asked, his eyes finally glinting slightly as though he was sure what was coming.
“Get me information and then you can handle things as you see fit, though you will make sure Avery is left out of it.” Yes. He liked this plan. Avery would be more vulnerable, and she would turn to him.
He’d been her boss and her friend for months. This fucker had just shown up. She would turn to him. No doubt.
He nodded toward the door, sending Malcolm out.
This man Avery was meeting had an “end-by” date. He just didn’t know it.
And when he died, Avery would turn to her friend. She would be in his arms in no time.
Calm settled over him. He was getting far too emotional. Malcolm might not understand, but Molina was self-aware enough to know what Avery’s appeal was.
He’d sold his soul long ago, but he was still able to appreciate true innocence and purity.