“Once I have proof that the story is dead, I’ll deliver your sons back to you—”
“Mr. Payne, you’re mistaken. I’m not doing this because of my sons,” Noah Sr. interrupts a little too cheerfully. “As far as I’m concerned, they’ve brought this on themselves. You can keep them for a while longer if you like, make sure they’ve really learned their lesson.”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m interested in something far more valuable,” Noah Sr. continues. “I believe you and I may be of use to each other, you see.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t believe in alliances.”
“Not long-term ones, but short-term can be very useful. I’m not above admitting that.”
I grunt.
“I heard you’re on the hunt for some new allies, the kinds who can bring weapons and men to the table. It so happens I have plenty of both.”
I consider my next words carefully. “You want an alliance, but it’s not contingent on the release of your sons?”
Suddenly, I like the man a lot less. There’s no love lost between Noah, Ryder, and me, but it’s cruel to leave his sons at my mercy.
What kind of father is he?
I like knowing the kind of men I deal with, and what makes them tick, but not being able to understand Noah Sr. doesn’t sit well with me.
Noah Sr. smiles again, showing off a row of pearly white teeth. “Yes, that’s right. You and I have far more important things to do and discuss, starting with rehabilitating your image.”
“My image?”
What the hell is he talking about?
I’m not here to discuss how to win over the press, a bridge I’m sure I’ve burned now that Elise is single again.
Elise is a tabloid darling, with people eating out of her hands, and I knew how tricky it would be to tie myself to her, but at the time, I’d needed the resources.
Giving up my privacy had seemed a small price to pay.
Especially when her father had been more than willing to offer men and resources in exchange for the chance to parade us around.
The arrangement had suited all parties involved until it didn’t.
I don’t care that the tabloids are dragging my name through the mud, or that they’ve made Elise out to be a broken-hearted victim, not when I’ve got much bigger problems to worry about.
Elise can ride the high for as long as she pleases as far as I’m concerned.
“You need to hire a PR team to curate a better image for the press,” Noah Sr. says. “I’m surprised you haven’t thought of this already. How do you think I still have the public’s support after all this time?”
“What about me makes you think I give a fuck?”
Noah Sr. shrugs. “You can’t afford to have your enemies rallying together while you become a pincushion for the masses.”
Without looking away, I wave the waiter over, and he tops off my drink.
The amber liquid burns a path down my throat, but it doesn’t ease the knots there, or the tightness in my chest as I sit across from one of the most callous men I’ve ever met. I’ve come across some of the most depraved men in the city, and I’ve witnessed enough horror and death to have developed a thick skin, but something about Noah Sr. rubs me the wrong way.
In all the wrong ways.
Going into business with him would be insane.
You don’t have to like the man to get into bed with him. Since when is that a prerequisite? You’ve done plenty of business with his kind.
