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Benton grew quiet again. “There are moments when her eyes glaze over, like she’s thinking about it…or her mother. But for the most part, she’s the same happy girl she’s always been.” He took a drink, the ice cubes rushing to his lips before he set the glass down again. “Bleu?”
“He’s really proven himself.”
Benton stared at me, his hard expression hiding the anger underneath.
“What do you want me to do, Benton? Fire him?”
He stared at his glass.
“Remember, he came to me.”
“Trust me, I know.” He took another drink.
“He didn’t want to build apartments anymore. He wanted to make some real money—”
“At what cost?” Benton snapped. “Pushing drugs on the street? He already saw what I went through.”
“What did you go throughexactly?” I said coldly. “Your townhouse is worth over two million euros, and your estate outside the city is worth ten million. The only reason you can put Claire in private school and have your wife be a housewife is because of me.”
Benton was dead silent for seconds, and that was basically the same thing as screaming. “Are we going to pretend you didn’t take Claire—”
“That was after—”
“If I didn’t do what you wanted, you were going to make me do it anyway. Like I was your goddamn slave.” His face turned red.
“I apologized for that—”
“And I’ll never forgive you.”
It was like a little knife in my side. Didn’t see it coming. “If you want me to get rid of Bleu, I will. I’ll take the blame. He’ll never have to know that you asked.”
Benton remained quiet, apparently too angry to speak.
I remained still, holding his gaze without blinking.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“I won’t interfere with his life decisions. If I did, I would be no better than you.”
“You shot me, remember? I thought we were past this.”
“My daughter was imprisoned by a bunch of acid-pushing freaks. No, we’ll never be past this, Bartholomew.” He finished the rest of his glass then walked straight out of the bar—without looking back.
* * *
When are you coming?
I’d forgotten about our plans.I’m not. Shit came up.
Everything okay?
Everything is fucking great.
Can I call you?
I ignored the question. I left the phone on the desk as I sat there, a bottle and a glass in front of me, ignoring all the work that required my attention because I was too furious to focus.
