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Another stretch of silence ensued.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” He wore a hard expression, but his eyes shone like he meant every word he said. “Are they dead?”
“Who?”
“The men who did this to you.”
“I—I don’t know.” Survival had been my priority at the time. Not revenge.
“Then I’ll find out and take care of it.”
“That’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”
His eyes narrowed instantly.
“You’re a crime lord. I’m sure your men do the same shit.” They were criminals without morals. When someone crossed them, they probably raped their daughters. There was no law—like it was medieval times.
He was silent for a very long time. “We don’t. And I’m deeply offended by the accusation.” The tension in the room changed. Now it was heavy with his rage, like a fire that started in the corner and slowly engulfed the entire room. Smoke came out of his eyes. Without raising his voice or saying anything else, it felt like he would kill me and everyone else in the hotel.
Then he got to his feet and approached me.
I remained steady.
In just his boxers, he looked at me. “I’m a businessman who sells a product and kills anyone who interferes with my business.That’s it. I don’t seek revenge on my enemies by raping their wives and daughters. I don’t punish civilians for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I won’t pretend I’m a good man, far from it, but this is…is a fucking slap in the face.”
I cowered beneath him, immediately regretting what I said.
“Just because something happens to you, that doesn’t make it who you are. It’s a verb, not a noun. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you whatsoever. I’d take you on the table right now if I weren’t so pissed off.” His angry eyes continued to bore into mine. “Apologize when you’re ready. And if you don’t—take care.” With that, he walked away, pulled on his clothes, and left the hotel room.
* * *
The next few days passed with aching slowness. I went to the gym every morning, got ready, and then went to work for over twelve hours. I didn’t just have to pick out the clothes for my clients, but I also had to alter them. Having a seamstress do it for me was always an option, but every time I tried, their work wasn’t good enough. Clothes didn’t fit correctly, and these clients weren’t paying top dollar for something half-assed. As a result, I had to do everything for the business, and I meant everything.
Once I sat down for more than a couple minutes, my thoughts drifted back to the last conversation I’d had with Bartholomew. Venom had burned in his eyes. It was a harsh thing to say, but I was used to the world that my father had created, a world where any crime was justifiable for crossing him.
Looked like Bartholomew didn’t share that sentiment.
I grabbed my phone and fired off a message.Can we talk?
His response was immediate.Took you long enough.Even though he was busy running a drug empire, he was never too busy to respond to my messages. I’m out right now. I’ll swing by later.
I already told you how I feel about that.
No one is tailing me, and if they were, they would already know all about you. Just because we meet at a hotel doesn’t mean you’re invisible. I put up with the whole charade to make you feel better, but it really makes no difference at all.
I read those words more than once and let them sink in.
I’ll be there within an hour.
I set my phone on the table and waited.
* * *
He opened my front door and let himself in. Dressed for the night, he was in his black bomber jacket, black jeans, and the same boots he always wore. He might as well have tattooed “Bad Boy” right on his forehead.
His eyes found mine as I sat at the small dining table, and he took his time as he crossed the room and approached me. Every time his boots hit the wood, it was a distinct thud, showing his heaviness despite his leanness.
He took a seat across from me, one arm resting on the surface of the table, his hard eyes looking at me with coldness.
