The interior of the car was an oasis of hushed luxury, but inside Jack's chest, a storm was reaching Category 5 proportions. He stared at the back of Dwayne's head, his teeth grinding so hard his jaw ached. The silence in the car was heavy, broken only by the faint, rhythmic ticking of the dashboard clock and the muffled hum of tires on rain-slicked pavement.
"Did you hear me?" Jack demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of humiliation and rage. "I asked you a question, you caveman! Who gave you the right to touch me? Who do you think you are?"
Dwayne Shane sat like a statue. His gaze was fixed forward, tracking the streetlights as they flickered across the windshield. It was as if Jack wasn't even there—as if he were merely a piece of loud, vibrating luggage.
"Oh, so now you're deaf?" Jack let out a harsh, jagged laugh. He leaned into Dwayne's personal space, his face inches from the bodyguard's cold profile. "You think because you can fight a few street thugs that you're special? You're a hired hand. A tool. My father probably found you in a gutter and promised you a meal if you'd play babysitter. Look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Still, Dwayne said nothing. The silence was an insult. It was a wall Jack couldn't climb, and it drove him into a frenzy.
"I'm going to make your life a living hell," Jack hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low vibrato. "I've broken better men than you. I'll have you begging to go back to the street corners by the end of the week. You won't just be fired; I'll make sure you're blacklisted from every security firm in the hemisphere. Do you understand me? Answer me!"
Jack lost it. The lack of reaction snapped the last thread of his self-control. He lunged forward, his fist swinging wildly, connecting with Dwayne's shoulder. It felt like hitting a brick wrapped in leather. Dwayne didn't move.
Jack struck again, this time aiming for the chest, his blows raining down in a frantic, uncoordinated blur of silk-sleeved fury. "Say! Something! You! Idiot!"
Dwayne finally moved, in one fluid, mechanical motion, his hand went into the inner pocket of his dark jacket. There was a sharp, metallic clink-clink.
Before Jack could even register what was happening, his wrists were snatched out of the air. Dwayne's grip was like a steel vice—impenetrable and cold. With a terrifyingly practiced flick of the wrist, Dwayne snapped a pair of heavy-duty professional handcuffs around Jack's delicate wrists.
"What... what is this?" Jack gasped, staring down at the cold silver biting into his skin. "Are you insane? You're handcuffing a Delman? Unlock these! Unlock them right now!"
"You were a distraction to the driver," Dwayne said. His voice was as flat and emotionless as a dial tone. It was the first time he had spoken since they entered the car, and the sheer indifference in his tone was more jarring than a physical blow.
"I'll kill you! I'll actually kill you!" Jack screamed, his face turning a brilliant shade of crimson. He began to thrash against the restraints, the metal rattling violently. He lobbed every insult he knew—vicious, biting remarks about Dwayne's status, his clothes, his silence. He called him a dog, a brute, a brainless mercenary.
Dwayne simply leaned back into the premium leather, closed his eyes, and waited. He looked like he was taking a nap in the middle of a riot.
The car eventually glided through the massive iron gates of the Delman estate, up the winding drive lined with perfectly manicured oaks, and came to a smooth stop in front of the marble portico. Yonde hopped out to open the door, his eyes widening as he saw the heir to the Delman empire sitting in the back seat, handcuffed and vibrating with pure, unadulterated malice.
Dwayne reached over, clicked the release on the cuffs with a small key, and stepped out of the car. The moment the metal fell away, Jack bolted out of the seat like a shot from a gun.
He didn't even look back at Dwayne. He sprinted up the stairs, shoved the heavy oak doors open, and stormed into the grand foyer. "FATHER! FATHER, WHERE ARE YOU?"
The elder Delman, a man who radiated the kind of power that could move markets with a whisper, was standing in the study doorway, a glass of amber scotch in his hand. He looked entirely too calm.
"Jack," his father said, his voice a low rumble. "You're home late. I assume you met Mr. Shane?"
"Met him?" Jack shouted, his voice cracking with indignation. He held up his red-streaked wrists. "He kidnapped me! He assaulted me! He put me in handcuffs, Dad! In the back of our own car! He's a lunatic! I want him arrested. I want him gone. Call the police, right now!"
Jack's father took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink. He looked past Jack to the doorway, where Dwayne had just entered, standing silently with his hands clasped behind his back, the perfect image of a professional soldier.
"Did he keep you safe?" his father asked.
"Did you hear a word I said?" Jack's eyes were bulging. "He treated me like a criminal! He's a street-fighting thug who thinks he can boss me around!"
The billionaire stepped closer to his son, his expression shifting from calm to something stern and unyielding. "I've spent millions on guards who let you walk all over them. They failed because they respected your name more than your life. Dwayne doesn't care about your name, Jack. He cares about the job."
"I don't care! Fire him!"
"Listen to me very carefully, Jack," his father said, his voice dropping to a level that made the air in the room feel heavy. "I have given Dwayne Shane total autonomy. As far as I am concerned, his word is law. He is allowed to do anything—absolutely anything—to ensure your safety. The only thing he is forbidden from doing is killing you. Anything short of that? It's his call."
Jack felt the blood drain from his face. He looked back at Dwayne. The bodyguard was watching him with those same cold, sea-glass eyes. There wasn't a hint of triumph on Dwayne's face—just the same, terrifyingly blank professional mask.
"You're joking," Jack whispered, his voice small.
"I never joke about my investments," his father replied, turning back into the study. "Get some sleep, Jack. You and Dwayne have classes at Doitwell in the morning. And don't bother trying to run. He'll just catch you again."
Jack stood frozen in the center of the massive foyer, the silence of the house closing in on him. He could feel Dwayne's presence behind him.