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“That you hate it?” I frown. “That never stopped me from doing a lot of things.”
“Just like it never stopped me doing this…”
His words are matched with quick actions, and he places his hands on my body, claiming me as if I’m something for the taking.
“You don’t want to do this.”
The fire in me was a blazing wildfire, but in this moment, it’s enough to incinerate Alistair and me alive.
“Trust me, I do.” There’s a rawness in his voice, something sinister. “I suppose now you’re here, you’ll have to deal with the consequences.”
“And what might those be?”
The wicked grin he fixes me with is something that burns straight into my memory. I knew what ripple effect my homecoming would trigger, but I was so hellbent on getting in front of Beckett and claiming what I was denied that I didn’t think of the bigger picture.
Even standing here with Alistair in front of me, I’m not sure I care about anything outside of Beckett and The Company.
“Your father made a lot of enemies.”
“The Company made a lot of enemies,” I correct bitterly.
“Your father’s face was one everyone saw the most that, come the end, Nicolas was the brand. Therefore, so was his family.”
“What family?” I question, a slight lilt to my tone. “My mum and brother died years ago, and I disappeared. I’d say this is more your problem than mine seeing how the Knights have now secured The Company. I think my father’s links went to the grave with him.”
“Unlike a lot of things that went to the grave with him, his last heir was not one of them.” His eyes become emblazoned with intent. “Now you’re back, you should reap the sins of the father.”
I laugh, standing my ground. “I witnessed what sort of power shift happened here, Alistair, and believe me, my name is worth mud. Now, yours… oh, yours is worth all of the cocaine sitting in The London Gateway and then some.”
“I heard about the scene you caused.” His disregard tells me he doesn’t care about a word I have to say.
“Please, do me a favour. I’m not here willingly, so I can’t be held accountable for that.”
I would love to take credit, but what happened with Tobias was purely a fluke. He wanted to drag my name; I was willing to drag him.
“Listen here, you little bitch! You were always a mistake, but when your father carted you off, it was the best thing he ever did. It was a done deal that you never show your face again.”
He was always darker than the devil. Always crazier than him too, but I stood my ground to him before, and I would do it again.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I grind out, jerking again, only for Alistair to grip tighter. “You can’t hurt me here, Alistair.”
The wickedness of his expression morphs harsher, becoming darker as the gleam in his eyes turns them almost onyx.
“Want to bet?”
There’s a fierce difference between Beckett’s calculated steps and Alistair’s. Beckett moves like water, calm and swift. Ready to pull you into the riptide without even a second’s warning. Alistair, however, is like quicksand that will drag you in whole knowing the more you fight, the more you’ll suffocate.
And he enjoys that torture too much.
The way he grabs me is so unlike his son too. I tense against calloused fingers, my fight erupting from that initial contact.
“Get off me.”
As I yank, he pulls, tugging me closer to his body so he’s leering over me.
Twisting my arm away, he locks me in position as his other hand comes up to my face, fingers wrapping around my jaw.
The fight in me won’t go that easily, and I wrestle with him, unprepared to let him win.
