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BARTHOLOMEW
I left my bedroom in my sweatpants, the curtains open to let the sunshine into the top floor of the apartment. It was hard to tell what time of day it was just by looking outside, but it was probably sometime after three o’clock.
My butler already had the table set, an Americano with steak and scrambled egg whites with whatever organic produce he’d found at the market earlier that morning. The newspaper was there, even though I hardly ever read it. I took a seat, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and then sorted through all the texts, emails, and calls that had exploded my phone throughout the morning.
My butler didn’t speak to me—which was how I preferred to spend my mornings.
Or, should I say, afternoons.
My peaceful silence was interrupted when my butler approached the table. “Bleu is here to see you, sir. Shall I let him in?”
My eyes lifted from my newspaper and steadied on his face. Call me old-fashioned, but I didn’t like to start my mornings with bullshit, though I assumed it was important. “Yes.”
He ushered Bleu inside a moment later, and he sat across from me at the table as I cut into my steak. “I figured it out with the Moroccans. They’ll agree to be our exclusive distributor—for a hefty price.”
“I don’t care what the price is.”
“They just put a supply on the cargo ship, so that delivery can’t be reversed. After that, they’ll cut them off. So, we have two weeks.”
“Good.” I chewed a large bite, loving the taste of steak with coffee.
Bleu sat there across from me, looking out the window like he thought it was rude to watch me eat. “Still think this is a good idea?”
“Absolutely.”
“What will you do once the Skull King knows his supply is being cut off?”
“Ask him to sell my drugs instead.”
“And you don’t think he’ll figure all this out?”
I shrugged as I cut into my steak. “It doesn’t matter if he does. He has no choice. Either work for me or go out of business. That simple.”
* * *
I sat in the bar, talking shop with one of my distributors. The night was young. While people had their dinner, I hadn’t even had lunch yet. We smoked cigars and drank, talking about the millions of pounds we moved through France and out of Eastern Europe that week.
“Our infiltration into Croatia has been very successful. Our product is also superior to what Roan had before, so we’ve managed to increase the market price.” He drank his scotch until the glass was empty, and he left it on the table.
“Maybe we should move through Germany and then Russia.”
He gave a quiet chuckle. “You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Am I?” I asked, releasing the smoke from my mouth. “Or am I the only one thinking clearly?”
“Russia is a whole different ball game. Mean motherfuckers.”
I gave a shrug. “We’ll see.”
A woman caught his attention at the bar, inviting him over with a wave and a smile. Seemed like they already knew each other.
“If we’re done here, I’d like to get my dick wet.”
I raised my glass and clinked it against his. “Go for it.”
He left me sitting there alone, and I finished the rest of my glass before I opened my wallet and threw the bills on the table.
A hand gripped me by the shoulder. Long nails dug through my jacket, the touch possessive like this wasn’t the first time she’d touched me. Then her legs came into my view in that short dress, and she helped herself onto one of my knees like I was fucking Santa Claus. Her arm hooked around my shoulder, and she looked down at me. “Long time, no see.”
