❝Morrison is my archenemy and he only dies with my hands wrapped around his neck...❞
Carl John Morrison has never met any man who surpasses Aiden Black. He's a stuck-up prick. Easy on the eye. A lethal weapon.
And Carl has a weakness for him.
A tr...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ch: 22: Good liar
“Hey, you good?” Genuine concern echoed in Aiden’s voice. “We can take a short break if you want.”
“I’m good.” Carl nodded slowly and cleared his throat, “Let’s just get this meeting over and done with before my crazy stalker finally decides to kill me.”
A collective gasp swept through the conference room.
“What stalker?” Logan Andrews, Carl’s attorney looked at his client, perplexed. “And why am I just hearing about this stalker?”
“What were you going to do, Andrews?” Carl snorted. “Scare them away with a promise of sweet jail time?”
“Did you file a police report?” Enzo who happened to be Black Incorporated as well as Aiden’s personal attorney asked inquiringly. “Your life could be in serious danger.”
“Story of my life,” Carl said with a casual shrug. “Now can we please continue?”
Last night Carl learned the hard way that he might have a potential psychopath after his life. Why the person hadn’t attacked ever since the note was delivered was beyond mystery.
The first culprit to come into Carl’s mind was the South African mafia but after confronting Nandi about it, he wasn’t too sure anymore since she denied the allegations. Nandi had openly told him SAMA wasn’t into primitive ways of communicating a.k.a sending notes to scare people, but that doesn’t mean the mafia was anywhere near innocent.
However, the fact that there was a possibility of another pissed off person out there waiting for a precise moment to hunt him down made Carl paranoid. It felt like he’d been thrown in an apocalypse. He wondered how many people Rowan had messed with during his life.
Keeping that goody two-shoes façade for all those years, the man must’ve been a pretty damn good liar.
This time Carl wasn’t going to survive if someone tried to murder him, after all third time is usually the charm.
“Did you know dad was a double-dealer?” This conversation took place at Janelle Morrison’s home in West Hollywood soon after Carl’s date with Aiden. “Mom?”
Something about Carl’s ambiance set Janelle’s teeth on the edge. The way he was glaring at her, eyes glazed with hard steel—demanding for answers in that stone cold voice, leaving no room for deceit.
“Your father was a business minded man.” She held Carl’s gaze while blowing on her steaming late night cup of coffee. “He saw opportunities and grabbed them by the neck.”
Carl let out a humorless laugh. “So you knew about the 4.5 milliondollars worth of diamonds he stole from a South African mafia?” he could feel his pulse pounding inside his temple, fueled by his uncontained rage. “It just had to be a fucking mafia.”
