Annihilate Him [Volume 1] by Christina Ross

Author:Christina Ross [Ross, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Pepper Winters, Jennifer Probst, Karin Slaughter, Vivien Summer, Mister O, Jay Crownover, Colleen Hoover, Cristina Chiperi, Piper Rayne, Tatjana Wagner, James Patterson, Stephenie Meyer, meredith wild, Nora Roberts, J. Kenner, Jill Sanders, Skye Warren, lauren blakely, Mona Kasten, Penelope Sky, Emma M. Green, Kristen Callihan, Romantic Suspense, Kristen Proby, Karen Hamilton, Helen Hardt, Christina Lauren, Kendra Elliot, Cynthia Eden, Calendar Girl, Marie Force, Barbara Freethy, contemporary romance, Liliana Hart, Audrey Carlan, Maya Banks, Annie Stone, Anna Zaires, Chance, Megan Harold, Annihilate Them: Holiday, Vi Keeland, Annihilate Me, Anna Todd, Annihilate Him, Bella Andre, Tanja Janz, Katy Evans, Meghan March, Tijan, Sylvia Day, Victoria Quinn, E L James
Publisher: Christina Ross
Published: 2019-01-03T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE NEXT MORNING, NEWS of Audric Dufort’s death was everywhere. That was expected—the man was an icon in the city, and he deserved all of the public condolences and accolades he received.

What wasn’t unexpected was that the Post had made Alex and I part of the story.

After a fitful sleep, each of us rose at four in the morning. After all that had happened the night before—from my attack against Stephen Rowe to what had happened to Audric himself—the idea that sleep was even possible was a joke.

And so, after giving up on sleep and holding each other quietly for a few minutes, we slipped out of bed, deciding it was best to just start the day. While Alex collected the morning papers, I went into the kitchen to make coffee. My nerves alone were enough to make me feel sick to my stomach, which was nothing new these days given the pressure Alex and Wenn had been under. But my nausea only intensified when Alex returned to the kitchen, sat at the island, and tossed the Post onto the countertop.

“And so it gets worse,” he said.

I pulled two mugs out of a cabinet and turned to him. He was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts, his dark hair was tousled, and he looked furious to me.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

He motioned toward the paper. “Have a look.”

With a sinking feeling in my gut, I went over to the counter, picked up the Post, and saw that Alex and I were on the front page, with an empty wheelchair and a smashed window just behind us. In the photo, surprise was stamped on my face and Alex looked nothing if not horrified by what had just happened. The headline was as massive as it was cutting: “WENNFAIL.”

On the paper’s lower right corner was another photo, this one fit snuggly in a circle. It was a grainy photograph of Audric Dufort’s smashed body lying on the sidewalk outside his son’s penthouse on Fifth. The cutline that ran beneath it was even more hurtful, unfair, and abusive: “Alexander Wenn fails to save Audric Dufort—and his own company.”

And that’s all it took—my stomach hitched, and I ran into the half-bathroom just off the kitchen and threw up whatever I had left in my stomach, which wasn’t much. As I launched into a series of dry heaves, Alex hurried into the room and crouched down beside me. He reached for my hair and held it away from my face while he rubbed my back.

“Jennifer,” he said, when the heaving slowed. “Please don’t be sick. They’re idiots. It’s the Post. Nobody takes them seriously.”

When I was finished, he reached for a towel off the rack beside the sink and handed it to me. I pressed it against my lips and my chin, and then went to the sink, turned on the water, and dipped my mouth toward the running stream while tears stung my eyes. I swished, spat, and took in a long pull of cold water and swallowed.

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