50 Shades of Drake 1 and 2

50SOD II: Chapter Ninety-One

    Aubrey has lost his fucking mind. He wants to go head to head with a man who's making threats? Brian waited patiently for the elevator to reach the thirty-fifth floor while recounting the conversation he'd had with the CEO and founder of Graham Enterprises.

    Aubrey wanted to paint Palmer into a corner. "As long as I do what he wants, he can hold shit over my head. But if I put him on blast, he doesn't have anything over me."

    "He could still lash out, hurt the people closest to you," Brian had pointed out. "What you're talking about is turning him into a man who has nothing to lose. That would make him even more dangerous, wouldn't it?"

    No response.

    "Look, I'm all for offensive tactics," Brian assured him, "but I don't know if you want to make this particular move. Making this move puts everyone you love at risk. Including Destiny, whether he knows about her or not."

    Aubrey had agreed to consider what Brian had to say. The look of determination had never left his eyes, though.

    The elevator doors slid open, and Brian stepped inside. He pressed the button for the top floor. While in the meeting with Aubrey, Brian had gotten an interesting text message from Destiny, a message stating that she would be waiting for him in the atrium area. Sure enough, when he stepped off the elevator and returned to the spot he'd last left her, she was still there. He stared at her for a long moment before approaching. "What, the appeal of a cab wore off?"

    She looked at him and smiled. "How did the meeting with Aubrey go?"

    He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "I think he's starting to lose his marbles, actually."

    Her brows knitted together in concern.

    "We can talk about it later. Come on, I'll get you home. I need to come back to the office after dropping you off."

~~~~~~

    Carlos stood on the balcony of the condo, sipping a glass of wine with music playing on the high quality stereo in the living room. He liked to think of himself as the type of person that never got bored. There were way too many things to do in life. But when he was in a city where he had only one friend that he couldn't even talk to, and when he was practically afraid of his own shadow, there weren't many options left.

    The last few times he'd left the condo, he had felt like he was being watched. He'd gotten the goosebumps, the raising of the hair on the back of his neck, the whole nine yards in terms of stereotypical physical responses to creepiness. The fear was that real. He'd scoped out his surroundings, expecting to see Palmer or someone else who looked out of place, but nothing. No one who looked even remotely familiar to him. That feeling never went away, though. Even here and now, in this condo, he still felt like he was being watched. It was a feeling he couldn't shake, no matter what he did.

    Was it paranoia? After confessing to Destiny, maybe he felt like Palmer would somehow know that Carlos had double-crossed him. He tried to tell himself that it was just paranoia, but his subconscious knew better. Something was off. Something was wrong. Palmer hadn't even checked in with him for the past few days. That alone was strange. That means that he probably knows, Carlos thought now, staring out over the city of Toronto that stretched beyond the balcony. He knows that he can't trust me. He's probably monitoring the activity on my phone. Maybe he's seen that I haven't so much as texted Destiny for the past few days. He took another sip of wine.

    The doorbell rang, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. Wine splashed out of his glass and onto his white dress shirt. "Damn," he muttered, groaning in frustration as he entered the living room from the balcony. He set the wine glass down on one of the living room end tables and walked across the room.

    The doorbell rang again, and he racked his brain for who could possibly be visiting him. Destiny was staying with Brian and was probably at work right now. Aubrey would also be at work, wouldn't he? Carlos peered through the eyepiece and his blood ran cold. "Palmer," he whispered. Could I possibly get away with pretending that I'm not home? No, probably not. I have to answer the door. It would look weird if I didn't answer the door. He would know something is up. But, oh God, maybe he already know something is up. Fuck! He took a deep breath and opened the door.

    "Honey, I'm home," Palmer greeted without smiling.

    Carlos stepped back, allowing him inside. "I didn't know you were in town. I told you I had everything under control."

    "That's just the thing," Palmer said, looking around the condo. "You don't have everything under control. You haven't given me anything I can use, and there has been plenty. That leads me to believe that you've been withholding information from me on purpose."

    Carlos's hand remained on the doorknob. He was considering running out of the condo. Palmer was heavyset - there was no way he'd be able to catch up to Carlos if Carlos was running at full speed. "I wouldn't do something like that," Carlos lied, his voice shaking.

    Palmer narrowed his eyes. "If you haven't been withholding information from me deliberately, it just means that you've been slacking on your job. And with your family's lives on the line, neither one is a smart move."

    "I'll...I'll...I'll do better," Carlos promised.

    Palmer gave a curt shake of his head. "No need. You've been replaced."

    Carlos's complexion paled, and he finally closed the door. To keep his hands from shaking, he crossed his arms over his chest. "So...then what? I go back to D.C?"

    At those words, Palmer did smile. A toothy grin that resembled The Joker's, from Batman. "No, not in the cards for you," he said, reaching into his suit jacket pocket and withdrawing a pair of black gloves. "You know...I wish that things had worked out between us. You are one of the most interesting people I've ever had the chance to meet, and definitely one of the most attractive."

    Carlos's eyes honed in on the glove that Palmer was sliding onto one meaty hand.

    "I wanted to be with you so badly. I considered coming out to the Republican party. Can you believe that? Can you imagine what kind of shitstorm that would have caused? I killed my wife for you. So we could be together. And you still would have nothing to do with me."

    He just told me that he killed his wife. He said the words. Out loud. If he's saying the words out loud, it's because he thinks that I am not a threat to him. If he knows I kept information from him, but still doesn't see me as a threat, it's because he intends to get rid of me. Like I'm some loose end he has to tie up. Carlos reached behind him and grabbed for the doorknob.

    Palmer slid on the second glove, then reached in his pocket again.

    Carlos whirled around, pulled the door open, and ran out into the hallway.