In the Stars

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Inner Space

The little cunt needs to die.

Damian Waincroft sat in the Orion boardroom, seething under his skin. It felt like it would crawl right off his body, leaving his boiling hot muscles exposed. Every tendon flared with hatred.

"They got away?" Alistair asked. His manicured eyebrow raised in a perfect arch. The Botox hadn't taken away the man's ability to cast ridicule on his subjects.

The rest of the board looked on their fellow member as well, identical disdain raining from their static faces.

"Yes. With the meteorite." Damian looked at Ethan, where he sat silent and cowed. The browbeaten man had learned a valuable lesson.

Don't fuck with the plan.

He wouldn't fail again. Damian would take matters into his own hands. Now that he knew, he wouldn't let her slip through his grasp again.

"We did find out her secret."

"What secret?" Acton- one of the more ancient members- spoke up in interest. His wave of plastic-looking white hair didn't move as he leaned forward in his seat.

Damian picked up his Montblanc pen, holding it between both index fingers and thumbs. He watched as the halogen lights reflected off its shiny surface. "Charlotte Fletcher has a gift. She can move through time on her own."

There was an audible hush, where breaths released on astonished hisses. "How?"

Damian looked up at Acton, confidence infusing his veins. He'd show them who was in control. "I believe she might be the long lost daughter of the Becketts."

Now the room erupted in the rustle of voices, all speaking at once. It sounded like the ominous harbinger of a locust plague.

"You believe she is the child of prophesy?"

"Yes. And there's only one way to know for sure. We must secure her."

"You do know what this means, don't you?" Alistair asked, a fanatical light sparking in his eyes. His hands fell beneath the table. Damian wondered if the man would stroke himself in excitement.

"Yes. It means we win." Damian's sneer held all the promise of domination. It rushed through him, flooding him with arousal. He would need to call the escort agency, get a girl sent over.

One who likes pain.

He was in the mood to inflict. As the celebratory air swelled around him, Damian sat back.

Was he resting on his laurels?

No.

He wasn't letting them get away this time. St. Claire would watch as Damian took her. Then she could watch.

As he snuffed out the life of that time bandit.

* * * * * * * * * * *

After her shower, Charlotte felt clearer. Her head was back in the game. She got dressed and went right to her laptop.

"You calling the Nigel Berwicks?" Owen asked. He sat at the table by the window, reading the newspaper.