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Qian slides off his throne and stalks toward me. Jimmy and Max are by the door and from the corner of my eye, both visibly stiffen. I’m not scared of this asshole. I’d have him on the ground before he could blink if he makes a move against me. “How does that make sense, Rossi?” he snarls.
“Let’s just say I’m willing to incur certain losses in order to be compensated in other ways.” His dark brows furrow as he regards me like I’ve clearly lost my mind. Which in a way I have. I’m giving away millions for my little fox. Ain’t love grand? “Just tell me where to send the money, and you’ll have it by this evening.”
He still eyes me with that incredulous gaze, his thin brows arching to meet that shiny bald scalp. Cocking his head over his shoulder, he barks something in Mandarin and one of his men peels away from the shadows. “Chao will coordinate the details.”
“Perfect.” I tick my head at Jimmy who relaxes a smidge and marches toward the navy-clad male Qian had indicated. Straightening my tie, I mentally prepare for the second, more distasteful discussion of this meeting. “Now that that’s been handled, may we proceed? I would like to discuss how we can maintain the foothold we’ve acquired within the Lower East Side without specifically targeting the Kings.”
“It’s not possible,” he hisses. “Our entire arrangement hinged on their annihilation and the Red Dragon’s resulting downfall.”
“I don’t give a shit about the Dragons.” I loom over Qian, nearly reaching the end of my patience. “Do whatever you want to them but stay away from the Kings from now on. I’ll handle the Valentinos. Are we clear?” I grit out each word.
Qian shakes his head, anger pinching his brow. “This is bullshit, Rossi.”
My arm snakes out, and my hand wraps around the piece of shit’s throat. A dozen navy hoods coalesce from the shadows. His men move like a silent wave arcing around us. Jimmy and Max appear at my side, both with guns cocked. “I didn’t ask your opinion on my decision.” My fingers curl tighter. “I simply want to know if you will politely comply, or will I have to make my demands more forcefully?”
A raspy curse vibrates his throat as I dig my thumb into his windpipe.
“I can snap your neck with one little twist, Qian. You’ll be dead before your best man can pull the trigger. Is this how you want to die?”
I loosen my grip a touch so he can inhale enough air to answer my question.
“No,” he rasps.
“Good.” Removing my thumb from his throat, but keeping hold of his neck, I tick my head at the circle of navy surrounding us. “Tell them to back down.”
He mutters something in Mandarin, and his men lower their weapons, disappearing back into the shadows.
Releasing Qian, I take a step back and clear my throat. “Are we clear on the expectations now?”
“Crystal,” he hisses. Straightening to his full height, he stalks toward his grand throne. The king of the Four Seas may have been taken down a notch today, but he still believes himself to be a god. Already, this alliance is turning out to be more trouble than it’s worth.
I turn to leave, but his raspy voice freezes me to the spot.
“About the other arrangement…”
Merda. I hoped he’d forgotten about the marriage deal with his sister. “What about it?”
“Have you come to a decision?”
“I’m still considering.” The truth is that holding this arrangement over Qian’s head might be the only way to keep this rabid dog at heel.
“What is there to consider? Do you not find my sister worthy?” He spits the last word, and I know I must tread lightly. The concept of honor is something sacred to the Chinese.
“Of course, I do. It’s not a decision to take lightly, Qian. Surely, you understand. This arrangement would tie our families together forever, not just one generation but for countless to come.”
He dips his head, lips twisting. “Which is why this pact would be so beneficial. After backing down on one agreement, I certainly hope you wouldn’t renege on another.”
I offer him a tight smile. “Of course not. You’ll have my answer by the end of the week.” Spinning on my heel, I whirl to the door, anxious to get out of here. Not only is Maisy waiting for me at home, but I must now also find a way to extricate myself from this predicament without causing an all-out war.
Damned Qian’s theatrics cost me the peaceful evening at home with Maisy. By the time I return, she’s asleep in my bed, which brings me all sorts of wicked delight. Since I’m loath to wake her, I tiptoe past my bedroom to my studio, a sanctuary I haven’t visited in weeks. As much turmoil as my little fox’s appearance into my life has caused, I can’t deny the joy it’s gifted in return. So much so that I haven’t needed my painting as an escape.
But I do miss it, nonetheless.
Unlocking the door to my most private refuge, I flick on the light and the large room filled with canvases sparks to life in an array of colors. Shrugging off my jacket, I hang it from the hook on the wall, then do the same with my shirt and tie. Normally I’d find an old shirt and shorts to work in, but I hate the idea of disturbing Maisy’s sleep, so today I’ll have to settle with painting in only boxers.
Plucking an empty canvas from the bin, I sit at the easel and attempt to banish the myriad of concerns stifling my creative thoughts. Qian, Jasper, Dante, Marco… so many issues to deal with. My brother has called and messaged me incessantly since I tossed him out of the penthouse the other night. I haven’t responded because I’m not certain I’ll be able to face him without wringing his neck. Maybe I’ll send him to deal with Qian next time. Actually… my twin could be the answer to one of my biggest problems.
A smile flits to the surface as I dip the brush into the small pot of deep red. And this is exactly why I paint. The stillness, the quiet, it allows me the peace to solve the complex puzzles of the dark world to which I’m bound.
