Unwelcome Return

The freezing street fell into a suffocating silence. Corbin watched the tall, imposing stranger approach. The sheer magnitude of Vaughn’s presence and the sleek, dominating bulk of his black Maybach eclipsed Corbin’s new, flashy Audi, making it look like a cheap toy. With a gaze as cold as the dead of winter, Vaughn bypassed Corbin as if the man did not even exist. He stopped his massive frame right in front of the trembling Cleo.

"Come with me once you are ready," the billionaire commanded, his silvery, baritone voice cutting sharp through the frigid night air.

Bristling with insecure, possessive rage, Corbin puffed out his chest and pointed a finger at Cleo. "She is my girlfriend! Why does she have to go with a stranger like you? We have been together for seven long years."

Vaughn did not dignify the outburst with a verbal response. He merely sneered, cast a slow, sidelong glance at the shorter man, and thumbed his nose in a gesture of silent disdain.

Caught squarely in the blazing, volatile tension between the two aggressive men, Cleo seized the golden opportunity to escape her abuser. She reached out and latched her hands onto Vaughn’s solid, muscular arm, using him as a physical anchor.

"We are broken up, Corbin. Do not ever show your face in front of me again unless you are ready to return the millions you stole. I will keep my eyes on you until the day you spit out every last penny." She glared at her ex-boyfriend, her tone dripping with venom.

Flabbergasted by her swift pivot to a vastly superior man, Corbin clutched his chest. He fell back on his usual, pathetic manipulative tactics. He tightened his grip on the handle of her suitcase, acting like a man in deep physical pain.

"You hooked up with this man on purpose just to upset me. I am sick, Cleo. You cannot be so cruel to me."

Disgusted by the display, Cleo released her grip on Vaughn’s arm to confront Corbin. Misinterpreting her movement, Vaughn’s piercing voice dropped an octave, dark with sudden anger.

"Do you have no respect for yourself?" he asked, his voice harsh and low, assuming the foolish girl was running back into the arms of her pathetic ex.

Cleo turned and flashed the towering CEO a brilliant, charming smile.

"I am not a woman who would stoop so low," she promised, her voice smooth and steady. Turning her fiery gaze back to Corbin, she extended her hand. "Give me back my suitcase right now."

Corbin refused to let go, but the exact moment his eyes flicked up and met Vaughn’s terrifying, icy glare, the coward's body trembled. Intimidated by the silent threat in the billionaire's eyes, Corbin released his tight grip on the luggage.

Without asking the billionaire for help, Cleo loaded her own heavy luggage into the spacious trunk. She slid fast into the safe passenger seat of the Maybach. Left behind on the cold concrete, a humiliated Corbin kicked the hard curb as the luxury car drove away.

"You bitch! You cuckolded me while I was sick. Just you wait." He cursed into the empty air.

Once out of the dilapidated neighborhood, the heavy silence in the car pressed down on them. Cleo broke it, making her request while staring out the passenger window.

"Please drop me off at 188 Oakwood Avenue. You can just stop the car by the side of the road if the detour is too inconvenient for you."

"Your Uncle Roland probably would not welcome you," Vaughn replied without missing a beat.

Blessed with an eidetic, photographic memory, he recalled every tragic detail from the background check his assistant had run earlier that evening. He remembered how Cleo used to live in that very house before her uncle's greedy family took it over.

A profound, terrifying chill washed over Cleo's body.

"How did you know that is my uncle’s house? Did you do a background check on me?" she asked, a tremble shaking her voice.

Vaughn turned the steering wheel, his expression calm. "Why not? Who knows if you had an ulterior motive for coming to my company today."

Pinching the bridge of her nose in deep frustration, Cleo fired right back with equal bite.

"Does that mean I should suspect you of having a dark, ulterior motive when you show up in front of my house in the middle of the night?"

At her sharp retort, Vaughn’s sculptured lips quirked up into a genuine, amused half-smile. *This girl sure knows how to talk,* he noted internally, captivated by her refusal to submit.