Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1
Read Annihilate Me 2: Vol. 1 Online
Authors: Christina Ross
ANNIHILATE ME 2,
VOL. 1
BY
CHRISTINA ROSS
The
Annihilate Me
series begins again with
Annihilate Me 2, Vol. 1
.
This series is an extension of the #1
best-selling
Annihilate Me
series, with more than 700,000 books sold
worldwide in a matter of months.
Although this new
series can be read on its own, readers will likely enjoy this series far more
if they first read the original
Annihilate Me
series and then the
Unleash
Me
series as it shares the same characters.
The experience will be dramatically deepened.
The
Annihilate Me
2
series once again focuses on Jennifer and Alex’s relationship.
BELOW ARE THE U.S. LINKS.
IN FRANCE, THE SERIES IS CALLED “CAPTIVE-MOI”.
IN GERMANY, THE SERIES IS CALLED “UNTER FEUER”.
ANNIHILATE ME, HOLIDAY EDITION
Also by
Christina Ross:
Stand-alone
novel
For my dear friends.
And my family.
And especially for my readers, who mean the world to me.
Your support of my career is unfounded.
Thank you for following Jennifer and Alex’s story into its newest
adventure.
This is the first volume in the
Annihilate Me 2
series.
Others will follow.
Copyright and Legal Notice
: This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and
all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all
rights are reserved, including resale rights.
Any trademarks,
service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property
of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no
implied endorsement if we use one of these terms. No part of this book may be
reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means (including
photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval) without
permission in writing from the author.
First ebook edition
© 2014.
Disclaimer
:
This is a work of
fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead (unless explicitly noted) is
merely coincidental. Copyright © 2014 Christina Ross. All rights reserved
worldwide.
VOL. 1
By
Christina
Ross
CHAPTER
ONE
New York
City
May
The news had already swept the city
and struck the financial world hard by the time my limousine arrived at Wenn
Enterprises, the headquarters for my husband’s conglomerate, which now was
under fire.
Cutter was driving.
Tank was beside him.
I was in the back, no longer nauseous
from throwing up earlier, but nevertheless not at my best.
At least I no longer looked as pale as I
had earlier.
Enough time had passed
since the morning’s events for me to pull myself together so I could be
prepared to help Alex if he needed me—even if it was just for support.
“The press is here,” Tank said as
the car pulled toward the curb.
Through the tinted windows, I
assessed the medium-sized crowd gathered along the sidewalk.
There must have been two dozen
reporters—print and broadcast.
Some held notebooks or digital recorders, while others held cameras or
video cameras.
All stood near the
building’s front entrance, waiting for Alex to come out to either make an
official statement about the situation or leave Wenn after what had to be one
of the worst days in its history.
They were ready to feast on him.
“So they are,” I said.
“And apparently they just saw us.
Look at them scramble—the wolves of
Fifth Avenue.
I wonder who they
think is in this car.
Me?
Or one of the board members?
Probably a board member—at this
point, that would make sense.”
Tank turned around to look at me,
his square jaw set into place, as if sealed there by concrete.
“They know it’s you.”
“How?”
“The license plate.
You and Alex always arrive in the same
car.”
“WENN1,” I said.
“You’re right.
I should have thought of that.”
“I don’t think you’re thinking
clearly right now.”
I leveled my friend with a
look.
Tank was former SEAL, the
longtime head of security at Wenn, my best friend Lisa’s husband—and a
man so massive, he dwarfed most.
“Actually, that isn’t true.
Right now, I’m focused on damage
control.
And I’m calm.
You probably expect me to be
rattled.”
I motioned toward the
crowd milling outside the limousine.
“They’re probably hoping to see the same thing.
But they’re not going to see even a
trace of that because I’m already certain that everything is going to be
fine.
This is a blip.
We just need to figure out how to spin
it.”
“Why put yourself through this?”
Tank asked.
“You were sick earlier,
and they’re going to devour you.
I
recommend that you skip your meeting with Blackwell and your meeting with
Alex.
You can reschedule Blackwell
for tomorrow, and you’ll see Alex later this evening, when he returns
home.
He can fill you in on
everything then.”
“I appreciate your concern, Tank,
but this is no time to abandon my husband or my job.”
“It’s not about abandoning either.”
“Isn’t it?”
“It’s about your safety.”
“What are they going to do to
me?
Seriously?
Yes, they’re going to jump me the moment
I step out of the car.
But let
them.
I have little to say to
them.
If you two would please flank
me and get me past them and into the building as swiftly as possible, I’d be
grateful.”
“Jennifer—”
I pulled my long, dark hair away
from my face, and let it fall in waves down my back.
I was wearing a pale yellow business
suit, and in my lap was a matching clutch.
After this morning’s news, people were probably expecting me to be
wearing black.
“I’m fine,
Tank.
They don't intimidate
me.
I’m going in.
Let’s do this.”
Reluctantly, he nodded at
Cutter.
As each man stepped out of
the car, I heard the crowd’s roar rise and then fall as the limousine’s doors
opened and slammed shut.
I took a
breath to compose myself before my own door swung open, and when it did,
cameras immediately started to go off and a cacophony of questions were hurled
at me.
“Do you have a statement,
Jennifer?”
I took hold of Tank’s arm, and started
to move off the street and onto the sidewalk.
“I don’t.”
“You’re not only married to
Alexander Wenn, but you also consult him on his business affairs.
You must have a statement.”
“I haven’t seen or talked to my
husband since this morning.
I’m sorry,
but I have nothing to say.”
“People are calling for your
husband to step down as CEO.
What
are your thoughts?”
I turned to the reporter who posed
the question and laughed.
“That
it’s ridiculous.
And that my
husband is a genius.”
“The Street is calling your husband
reckless.”
I wanted to glare at the reporter
who’d said this, but instead I kept my expression neutral, knowing that if I
gave them even a trace of the raw anger I felt inside, that they’d use it
against me.
“As I said, Alexander Wenn is a
genius.”
“Then explain what’s happened
today.”
I didn’t.
All around me was the rapid,
staccato rhythm of cameras going off.
It was just past eleven in the morning, the sun was bright and warm, and
there was a slight breeze that kicked up my hair and carried it over my left
shoulder.
“Your silence isn’t going to help
the situation, Mrs. Wenn.
We’re
asking you to cooperate.
Just
answer our questions.”
Due to Tank’s sheer size—not
to mention Cutter’s—we were able to press through the crowd and move
toward the doors.
It took
everything I had within me to keep focused, to stay on point, to not let them
get to me—even though they were attacking the man I loved, and I wanted
to lash out at them for even daring to try to take him down.
Blood was in the air, and these people
were hungry to draw their share of it.
But I knew in my gut that this situation called for poise, so I tuned
them out and continued to walk forward with purpose.
When we finally reached the doors,
I heard a female reporter call out, “Are you just going to say nothing?”
I turned to her before entering the
building.
She was a young woman—maybe
just under thirty—and I could see the hunger in her eyes.
The need to be part of this story and
the sudden plan to destroy my husband.
She was trying to do just that, but she wasn’t going to win.
Not just because I refused to answer her
question, but because I knew in my heart that Alex could rise above this,
regardless of how bad things looked on paper right now.
“I don’t run Wenn,” I said to her.
“My husband does—brilliantly.
Have a good morning everyone.”
And with that, we stepped into
Wenn’s massive lobby, which was off-limits to the press.
Max, one of Tank’s men, who was there to
make sure that the media was kept out, met us at the door.
I placed my hand on his arm.
“How are you holding up?” I asked.
“Everything is fine, Mrs. Wenn.”
“Since when is it ‘Mrs. Wenn’?
It’s Jennifer—you know that.
Have you had anything to eat?
Coffee?
A break to use the restroom?
I worry about all of you in situations
such as this.”
“There’s no need to worry, ma’am.”
“I believe there is.
You’re all like family to me—you
know that.
How many times have each
of you put your own lives on the line to help me?
And Lisa?”
I looked over at the reception desk, behind
which sat four men.
Three were
trying to keep up with the flood of calls that were pouring in.
The other man was there to address any
other inquiries.
I turned my attention to him.
“Carl, would you please make sure
that Max gets whatever he needs?
Coffee.
Juice.
Maybe some finger food—doughnuts
or bagels.
I’d appreciate that.”
“Of course, Mrs. Wenn.”
I looked at Cutter.
“Would you mind relieving Max for a half
hour or so?
I think he could use a
break.”
“Absolutely, Mrs. Wenn.”
I looked up at Tank as we moved
toward the bank of elevators at the lobby’s far right.
At this point, Tank and I were so close,
he was like a big brother to me.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said.
“Shoot.”
“When did I become ‘Mrs. Wenn’?” I
whispered to him.
“It’s always been
‘Jennifer.’
I don’t get it.”
“You became ‘Mrs. Wenn’ this
morning,” he said.
“Why?”
He pressed one of the elevator’s
buttons.
“Because it was this
morning that everyone started to fear for their jobs.”