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He’s here…
He’s here in Chicago and he knows where I am.
He can see me.
Chapter Sixteen
Gabe
There’s paperwork everywhere.
It’s my fucked up way of trying to focus, except now the place is a damn mess and I don’t know what I’ve read from what I haven’t.
I should have either gone to my office at the shipping company or my office at The Dark Odyssey. Either would have been fine and more appropriate than deciding to go through seriously important contracts for the business idea.
I just can’t fucking concentrate and I haven’t been able to do so since I last saw Charlotte.
I’m determined to shift my thoughts elsewhere because Salvatore and Vincent are relying on me to be a hundred percent, but fuck I can’t do it.
I didn’t go to the shipping company because everybody was going to be there today and they would be asking me shit about Charlotte. I didn’t want to talk about it and I was avoiding The Dark Odyssey because I didn’t want the temptation to grab some woman for the night to help me forget.
It was a fucked up thought that made me feel like an asshole and some kind of cheater even though I’m not.
I just thought it best to stay home and get my shit together.
The guys have already gone over the contracts with Roberto but this is my chance to mull over everything and make sure it’s as it was supposed to be.
I surprisingly do find one thing that I wasn’t too thrilled with and I don’t know if the others had spotted it. It was to do with the land we were thinking of buying in St. Lucia. We’d decided on five islands to start with and all the others had existing hotels or some sort of structure we were going to buy and develop the way we wanted.
St. Lucia though had a mass of land and the realtor there had played it up big time. I noticed though there was some government restriction on the water and the usage of the beach area. The realtors didn’t mention that before.
That in its entirety was as much as anybody was going to get out of me tonight.
All I can say is, if the realtors are trying to fuck with us they better pray they had God on their sides because fucking hell, I’m in no mood to be screwed with. Or, to deal with some dumb fucktard who thinks it’s a good idea to screw with mobsters.
No fucking way.
If someone’s trying to shit with us, I’ll happily pay them a visit they’re not likely to forget,ifthey live through it. Especially with the mood I’m in.
The second I think that, it comes to me once again…the problem.
Theproblem Charlotte has with me.
The reasonwhy she doesn’t want to be with me.
A regular guy wouldn’t have thought that screwing with me equaled death or serious injury. A regular guy would never think like that at all.
He’d get his lawyer to look into it and make a call. I’d call and make a threat. Or give a look and the bastard would know not to try it with me. Or, at the very least thelookwould give the bastard a chance to fix himself before I fixed him.
See, that was me playing nice.
Not fucking nice enough for her though, and it’s eating me up from the inside out.
Deciding I need a break, I set down the wad of paper I must have read five times already and throw myself down on the sofa.
Realistically, I probably need to stop what I’m doing because me looking over the contracts in this state of mind is pointless if I don’t catch mistakes of shit I need to give my undivided attention to. It could be contractual shit that could come to bite us in the ass later. I don’t want that.
As an accountant and businessman, I know as a general rule that if you see one thing that sticks out the way I spotted the land issue in St. Lucia, that tends to suggest there could be more things hidden in the mix.
