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“I’m not showering for you. I don’t want to impress you.” His voice is again the pig-child. “Give me my money.”
I cross one leg over the other. The tumbler of Jameson is in my left hand, and I study this worm. He hunches forward across the small table from me. I could probably kill him with two punches, yet if Ava is right, he is responsible for the death of two women. He assaulted my beautiful wife when she was only a teenager, and now he is attempting to blackmail us.
“What?” he dares to ask. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
It takes me a moment to relax my brow, to unclench my fist. “I will give you the fifteen thousand dollars my wife accidentally stole from you.”
“If it was such an accident, why didn’t she give it back?”
He actually sounds like the whiney loser he is. “She was a girl. She has no interest in seeing you ever again.”
“That’s not true.”
For a moment, I pause. I look at my brother sitting at the bar, and he gives me a reassuring nod. I can do this.
“As I was saying, I’ll give you the original amount… on these conditions.” Reaching into my coat, I pull two sheets of paper folded together long ways. Placing them in front of him, I smooth my hand down the seam. “By signing this document, you agree never to contact Ava Wilder-Tate again. It is also a nondisclosure agreement, which means you are not allowed to speak of this incident. Ever. Basically, you will take your money and walk away. Never contact, mention, or think of my wife again.”
He leans back in the chair looking at the pages. I’m not sure if he’s able to read the words, but I wait as he makes a show of holding the document close to his face and moving it away.
“What if I don’t want to sign this?” He puts the pages down on the table. “What if I say you can shove this up your royal ass? Ava stole from me, and I can go to the tabloids and tell everyone what she did.”
The skin around my neck burns with rage, and my fist is once again clenched. I’m one second from ramming it in his face. Repeatedly. Until he stops making sounds. “I would strongly advise you reconsider something so stupid.”
“What if I want the full value of that note?” he asks, glaring at me with watery brown eyes. “Fifteen thousand dollars is nothing to a guy like you. You’re a king. You live in this fancy place with all these rich people. Interest on fifteen thousand dollars is a lot. Then it can be compounded…”
“And you can be sent to jail for sexual assault.”
“I never assaulted Ava. I never did anything but kiss her.” He weaves in the chair. “Women like being held down. It’s all I did to her.”
My stomach roils at the thought. I don’t answer. I simply stare at him.
“But she did steal from me. It’s a verifiable fact.”
Again, I don’t point out that he just contradicted himself. Instead, I point to the sheets of paper. “This is how you will get fifteen thousand dollars. Take it or leave it.”
“I’m leaving it!” He stands, jerking the coat off his shoulders. “You’re not cheating me. I’m getting what I’ve got coming. You’ve got one day to get it together. I want everything I’m owed.”
I know what I’m prepared to give him, but out of curiosity, I have to ask. “What are you owed?”
“One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” He starts to go and then steps back. “Hand-delivered by Ava. To my hotel.”
“Which hotel?”
“Monte Cristo.”
With that he staggers to the door. He throws the blazer
on the floor in front of the host, and pushes through the glass entrance. I lean back in my chair and steeple my fingers in front of my lips. Rooms at the Monte Cristo start at thirty-seven dollars a night.
Cal walks over and takes a seat. “Did it or did it not go as planned?” He leans forward on his elbows and takes a pull from his tumbler of vodka. “I haven’t decided.”
“He’s a fucking amateur.” I lift the tumbler and finish my drink. “Let’s go. We’re moving on to Plan B.”
“And what is Plan B?”
“It’s yours. We’ll make him disappear using judicial measures.”
He pushes off his legs. “Perfect.”
