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The whole while, Costas looks me over like he’s examining a problem he needs to solve. He’s one of the really sharp ones in the club. Costas comes from nothing. He literally landed somewhere in the States as a teenager with nothing in his pockets, and built his empire brick by brick. Used absolute ruthlessness to make sure his fledgling company succeeded, and then used animal smarts to keep it on top. He’s no one’s fool.
And as much as I hate to admit it sometimes, I respect the hell out of the guy. I grit my teeth and bite the bullet. “I know how I fucked up, I don’t need you here to know that.”
“Do you really?” Those glinting green eyes remind me of glinting glass, hard and predatory.
“Yeah, I never should’ve dragged Trina into this.” Saying her name punches pain into my chest cavity. Nothing in my life has ever hurt this much. “The first time I saw her, I should’ve just told her to go home. She’s too innocent and too good for the likes of us and the games we play.”
Costas stops walking around the room, but his fingers still toy with the lighter, sparking the flame, then killing it. He looks me over again, his eyes coolly assessing. But I refuse to squirm in front of him.
“Are you fucking kidding me? You actually care for this whore?” he asks with disbelief. It takes all of my self-control not to punch his fucking head off for calling her that. Costas flicks the lighter closed one last time and shoves it into his pocket. “Fuck, Knight. You’re even more screwed up than I thought.” He shakes his head with disbelief again. “Goddamn.”
I give him a hard stare, wondering what his play is. Maybe he’ll let Trina go if I tell him she doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s worth a try.
“You got it all wrong, man,” I say casually, starting to act. “Forget what I said earlier. This Trina chick is just another piece of tail. Hot as hell, true, but she doesn’t mean anything to me. Just let her go. I can find you another girl to replace her in thirty minutes. Hell, maybe less.” Forgive me, sweetheart. I don’t mean any of what I just said.
Costas throws his blond head back and laughs long and deep. He laughs for so long that I look around to see if there’s a camera he’s performing for. “Don’t give up your day job for Hollywood, Knight. You suck at acting.”
Damn. He’s not buying it. “I told you—”
“Yes, yes. You don’t care for her, blah blah blah.” His eyes narrow at me in something that looks too much like sympathy, and my throat closes painfully. “But let’s be honest. It’s killing you to be here. You want her. You’re a desperate man.”
Am I that obvious? Oh shit. I have to be. Otherwise, why would he say it?
Oh, fuck. Trina. Baby, I’m so sorry.
Snarling, I turn away from him and face the window, looking down into the empty courtyard. I have to do something else to save her. But what? Unfortunately, my mind’s completely blank at the moment.
“Fuck off and leave me alone,” I growl at him without turning around.
“Yeah, I’ll get out of here soon enough.”
He’s flicking that fucking lighter again, voice dripping with satisfaction. I want to smash his face in, and rage rises like a dangerous tide in my chest. But when I whirl around to face him, fists up, the rage dissipates under his pitying gaze. Oh shit. Pity? I hate that emotion, especially when someone pities me. The fire drains out of my form, leaving me limp and weak.
He makes a tutting noise, and those white teeth flash at me again. Yep, that’s pity in his eyes. “You know the rules,” he says. “You’ve been terminated from the club effective immediately,” he says in a calm, cool, and collected voice. “Any monies you’ve invested stay with the club, and needless to say, you’re banned from all club-owned venues. And obviously, you can’t get your little girlfriend back.”
He’s blabbing on but I don’t care about any of that shit.
The money? They can keep it. Their club hotel? The private jet? The sex clubs where the girls dance around nude and available? They can have it all. There’s only one thing in their possession that I care about, and that’s Trina.
But I don’t say a single word.
“You don’t give a damn about any of that, do you?” he asks me, his voice low and amazed. “That lovely piece of womanflesh has you all twisted up, doesn’t it? Shit man, get it together.”
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Fuck it!” I snarl at him and slam my hand into the window. Pain ricochets through me. Blood smears across the glass, obliterating the view. “Fuck!” I unclench my fist and shake it out; now the pain is riding me hard.
