Ch. 5 JEALOUSY

Deangelo’s POV

With a sigh, I folded my arms across my chest, watching impatiently as my personal doctor administered an injection into the unconscious beauty's delicate arm. I couldn't fathom why she had suddenly fainted—I couldn't very well have her dying on me.

The doctor finished his work, carefully tucking the girl's hand back under the blanket. But before he could fully cover her, I snatched the fabric from his grasp, glaring at him.

"I will handle this," I growled, carefully placing the blanket over her lying body. My gaze lingered on her pale, beautiful face, a frown creasing my brow.

"Why did she faint?" I demanded, turning to the doctor. "Is she going to be okay?"

The man's expression was serious as he met my eye. "Where did you say you knew her from again? Is she another one of your whores? How long have you known her?"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "Just get to the point, underling."

Clearing his throat, the doctor leveled me with a pointed stare. "Um, does she have an eating disorder, by chance?"

My frown deepened. That couldn't be right—I knew she had been housed comfortably, with regular meals provided. But then, I recalled that she had been in our custody for several days now, with no food.

Cursing under my breath, I moved to exit the room, only to pause when I noticed the doctor's eyes shamelessly roaming over the girl's body. A swell of rage filled me, and my throat constricted.

"If you think I'm leaving you alone with her, you are sorely mistaken," I growled. "I have heard all about your perverted tendencies, you sick bastard. Of how you molest your female patients and touch them inappropriately when they are unconscious."

Grabbing the man by the hair, I dragged him out into the hall, tossing him roughly against the wall. "Get out of my sight," I declared. "And don't forget to tell someone to bring her something to eat when she wakes up. The nutrients I had you administer are only temporary."

The doctor hurried away, his tail firmly tucked between his legs. Fuming, I stormed down the corridor toward the living room, where Silvia and my right-hand man, Hugo, were engaged in a heated argument.

"Stop touching me, you pig!" Silvia snapped, slapping Hugo's wandering hand away from her lap. "Just because I’m part of the team doesn’t mean I’m not a woman!"

Hugo shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not touching you because I see you as a woman. You are basically a man; you are flat-chested with little to no ass, and you talk and act like a man."

Silvia's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she reared back, her fist cocked. But before she could punch him, I strode up to them, cutting off her attack.

"Is the girl alright?" Silvia asked, feigning concern.

I didn't bother keeping the fury from my voice. "Stop pretending to care," I snapped. "How the hell has that beautiful peasant not been given anything to eat?"

Silvia had the decency to look ashamed. "I, uh, kind of forgot," she mumbled.

"You forgot?" I roared. "How can you forget to feed a human being? Why didn't you give her food when we were all eating?"

Silvia stiffened, rising from the couch to confront me. "Don't blame me, boss!" she yelled. "I'm not her babysitter. If you had just listened to me in the first place, we wouldn't be in this mess."

She glared up at me, her eyes burning with defiance. "You should just let her go now. Her father doesn't seem to care about her, anyway. She is of no use to us."

As much as I hated to admit it, Silvia had a point. I had no idea why I was so hell-bent on keeping the girl. But before I could respond, Hugo cut in.

"Since we can't afford to have a prisoner, you should just send the beauty back to the streets to find her father," he suggested. "Looks like Silvia's jealous and won't be feeding her anytime soon."

"Enough!" I barked, silencing them both. Turning to Silvia, I leveled her with a stern glare. "Make food for the girl. If anything happens to her, you will see the other side of me."

Silvia's eyes widened in fear, and she hurried off, muttering a shaky "Yes, boss."

With a frustrated groan, I turned and headed upstairs toward the security room. I needed to reevaluate my strategy— that old hag was proving to be more trouble than he was worth.

As I approached the door to the security room, the two henchmen on guard duty immediately straightened, lowering their heads in respect. One of them hastened to pull the door open, allowing me to walk inside.

The space was an absolute center of technology—computers, monitors, and a collection of electronic gadgets, all overseen by my trusted hacker, Miguel. The man was hunched over an Apple laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard with the focus of a seasoned gamer.

But as I moved closer, I couldn't help but notice the telltale light of an online game on his screen. Shaking my head in disapproval, I cleared my throat, causing Miguel to jump in his seat, a look of pure terror flashing across his face.

"B-Boss!" he stammered, hastily minimizing the game and pulling up a selection of CCTV footage.

"How is the search coming along?" I inquired, my tone clipped.

Miguel swallowed audibly. "Well, the last CCTV footage we have of him shows him entering a car." He paused, zooming in on the rough image. "But the camera couldn't capture the license plate."

I narrowed my eyes, studying the unclear footage. "That bastard knows he is being followed," I muttered under my breath. "He is a prosecutor; he has been chasing criminals for years, so it’s only fair he knows how criminals think by now."

Miguel let out a frustrated groan, muttering a string of curses in rapid-fire Spanish. "What's this son of a bitch doing here? Fuck!" he growled, pulling up a new set of security footage.

I leaned in, my gaze settling on the bulky, baldheaded body of Carlos, the don of the construction industry, standing just outside our front gates with his henchmen on both sides.

"Why don't you just pay him the money you owe?" Miguel questioned, a note of frustration in his voice.

I snorted. "Carlos and I go way back. I know damn well why he is not willing to let the rest of that renovation bill slide."

Straightening, I fixed Miguel with a hard stare. "Open the gate for him," I commanded. "I need to have a little chat with that fat son of a bitch."

Miguel heaved a resigned sigh, his fingers tapping a sequence of keys that caused the heavy, wrought-iron gates to swing open. "Here we go again," he muttered under his breath.