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Because of this asshole.
Because of my mother.
Because of my father, a man I’d never met.
Because of the man who’d brought us to England and ditched us as too much trouble.
Definitely because of Jerry.
All the people who were supposed to give a shit, but just did not.
Somehow I found myself on my back with Simon’s shiny boot an inch away from my ribs. Without warning, Simon stopped and stared down at me, his eyes wild, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away almost casually, his gaze narrowing on my torso.
“Fucking cherry blossoms.” Instead of his expression softening, it grew harder, his brows snapping down. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not an easy mark.”
Everyone was easier than they wanted to believe. All it took was knowing on which soft place to apply pressure, and how much to use.
I sat up and shoved both hands through my hair, stopping short as Simon turned away to do the same. Not quite the same. Simon’s movements were stilted, jerky, and when he raked his hand through his hair, he fisted it.
Must be nice he could still make a fist. I wasn’t even sure how many blows I’d landed yet my knuckles stung. The skin was split, the joints already swelling.
But I had to hope I’d brought Simon some of the same pain he’d inflicted so eagerly on me. The same aching ribs, the same throbbing jaw, the same smarting cut near his mouth.
So much the same, even in this. And so different.
“You think you can just use my name, my life, everything I fucking fought for, and it won’t have consequences?”
I braced my hands on the floor behind me, feigning a relaxed posture even if the reality was anything but. I’d be damned if I gave Simon an ounce of satisfaction at having rattled me. He didn’t deserve even that.
That was what I had to keep telling myself.
“Your name, is it? Not our father’s. Not mine, just as much as yours.” I lifted my chin as Simon turned and glared. “You got everything else, so why not take that too, right? Why leave me with even that?”
Simon’s harsh laughter ripped through the flat. “I got everything? From who? My father,” he enunciated carefully, “was a mean fucker who enjoyed splitting my lip and my ribs just for something to do. My mother disappeared, leaving me with that son of a bitch. Whatever I’ve gotten, I’ve gotten for myself. I made myself, you bastard. I made the name Kagan.” He stepped forward, deliberately stepping on my bare toes with his shiny fucking steel-toed boots.
The pinch of pain grounded me. Reminded me of all that was at stake.
I wouldn’t hesitate.
When I didn’t speak, he did the honors himself. “If you think you’re going to steal it from me, Brit, you’re wrong.”
I yanked my feet out of reach of Simon’s boots and jerked to my feet, slowly rising to my full height. Everything ached, as if I’d gone a few rounds with a prizefighter instead of a pussy-soft rockstar.
But Simon knew all the places to hit. All the same blows I’d delivered myself. And I wouldn’t be hurting alone tonight.
I smiled slowly. “Can’t steal what you don’t own.”
Six
Simon took a step toward the door and I let out a long, slow breath that vibrated through my ribs.
Maybe he’d just fucking leave and I could lick my wounds in private. Literally.
I needed to regroup. To explain to Jerry how this could all still work. Sure, I’d made a change, but we could deal with this.
Giggling sounded behind me and I spun around, narrowing my eyes as the blond and brunette women I’d forgotten about climbed down the ladder from the loft. The blond climbed, the brunette sort of slid down the steps, crashing into the annoyed blond and giggling some more as she righted herself. Then she stopped laughing altogether as she followed her sister’s gaze to me and my brother. She pursed her lips and tugged on the short, fluffy skirt she’d dragged on with her bra and cropped jean jacket.
The newest in London fashion, I was sure.
