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I nodded. Just like his parents had, Ansel sat comfortably in a gray area between what was right and what was wrong. After breaking Carter’s nose, I belonged in the morally gray space now too.
Which I didn’t mind, as long as I was sharing it with Ansel.
“My parents believed in Martin, though, which made him so much more than a client. In the early days, my parents brought their work associates here, and at the time, they rubbed shoulders with a lot of higher ups involved in the elf mafia, so it wasn’t long until this place caught on with the snootier members of the city and received the attention it deserved.”
I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that there were different mafia families out there besides Ansel’s. “And Martin credits your family for his business’s success?”
Ansel shrugged again. “He credits my family’s influence for his business taking off, but I don’t know. I chalk it up to the timing of everything. His food is fucking delicious, and it was just a matter of time before the rest of the city realized that as well.”
The air felt a little tense, almost heavier between us. I suddenly realized this was probably the first time Ansel had been back since the death of his parents.
“So, let me guess,” I said, still determined to lighten the mood, “this is where you would take all your girlfriends?” I gave him a wry smile as he raised his eyebrow at me. “I don’t blame you, it’s a good move—pretend to not have a standing reservation and then have the restaurant owner personally escort you to your own private room in the back.” I leaned in closer, my smile growing wider. “You don’t have to try so hard with me; you already have free access in my pants anytime you want.”
“I do?” he said with mock surprise. The skin on my thighs prickled as he ran his hand up my leg, brushing his finger against the seam of my panties. A rush of heat pooled deep within my stomach from his light touch. Did our door have a lock on it? Because screw food, I was only hungry for Ansel right now.
“You’re the only girl I’ve brought here, by the way,” Ansel said, pulling his hand out from underneath my skirt. I had to bite down on the sad whimper that pushed against my lips as soon as he pulled his hand away.
“Really? Why?” I asked. He was a recovering Casanova who no doubt had no trouble pulling women. But it still confused me because this was the perfect move to use on a woman if you were trying to get laid.
“My ma would have murdered me if she knew I was bringing girls here. This was our special place to eat as a family, and if she found out I was using it to get my dick wet, well . . .” He shook his head, his words trailing off. “I was a bad son, but not that bad,” he added, a little quietly.
My smile waned. “Do you really believe that?”
“What? Getting my dick wet?”
“No, sorry. That you are a bad son?”
He picked up a piece of silverware and turned it in his hand. His brow knotted together as he glared at the fork. “I don’t think, lass,” he said in a low voice. “I know.”
I pressed my lips together in a thin line. I couldn’t imagine carrying that kind of baggage. No wonder he was so determined to avenge his parents’ death; it was his last chance to prove he was a good son. “Ansel . . .” I started, then hesitated. You would think that after all my time in therapy, I could actually think of something thoughtful and comforting to say. Right now, I would take any sort of response, because I was drawing blanks.
I sucked in a quick breath. I needed to say something. Anything. “Your parents loved you a lot, and they wouldn’t want you feeling guilty for stuff that happened in the past—”
“It’s my fault they’re dead, Skye,” he said, his voice coming out fast and harsh. I jumped in my seat as his fist wrapped around the fork and snapped it in half. He grumbled, dropping the two pieces of the fork on the table and rubbed his hand over his face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ruin our lunch. Being here is bringing up a lot of feelings I wasn’t prepared for.”
I blinked dumbly at the broken fork for a moment, finally turning my attention to him. “What are you talking about? I thought Gregor killed your parents.”
Ansel closed his eyes, his shoulders heaving up as he inhaled a deep breath. “He did,” he said quietly, his eyes still closed. “But I could have prevented it, if I hadn’t been so negligent. I worked for my parents and although I was their son, I was their worst employee. All I cared about was drinking, women, gambling, and hitting the club. No matter how many times I showed up to work hungover—or sometimes still drunk—my parents refused to cut me off. How could they? I was their flesh and blood, their only son. Instead, my da decided to promote me and put me in charge of their quality control for all the shipments coming in and out of the docks. Make sure everything was accounted for. Probably thought the extra responsibility would whip me into shape. I don’t know.” He laughed, the noise sounding cold and mirthless. “It only made it easier to not work. I would just fudge the numbers on the records and spend the rest of my day sleeping off the hangover from the night before. This was around the time my uncle on my mother’s side, Gregor, had moved from the homeland to work for my family,” Ansel continued. “Gregor and my father never really saw eye-to-eye. Gregor always considered my father weak for fleeing the country, even if it was to protect his own son. But my parents let the rude comments slide because he was family. They still butted heads though, Gregor claiming he could triple our revenue if he was in charge. Gregor liked me for some reason. He would take me to all sorts of clubs, buy me drinks, and give me money for strippers when I had blown all my money gambling. Gods, I was so stupid.”
I sat with my back straight against the chair, completely frozen. I didn’t want to listen anymore, not while I felt like I was going to be sick. Yet I clung to every word Ansel said, desperate to hear the end of his story.
“There was one night in particular when Gregor was feeling extra generous. Booze, women—whatever I wanted, he gave it to me. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but Gregor was ensuring I would be too hungover to be at the docks the next morning when the first shipment of black rock arrived.”
“Ansel,” I choked out. I searched for the right words, but there were none. I could barely find enough air to speak.
He refused to meet my eye. “When my da found out what Gregor had been doing behind his back, he flew into a rage. But Gregor was the better fighter and quickly knocked him down. The worst part? My ma was there too and jumped in to protect my da, and, well, Gregor ended up just killing both of them.”
Tears burned in the corners of my eyes. I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. Every inch of my body hurt for Ansel and the pain he carried. “Ansel, I am so sorry,” I said eventually, placing a hand on his back. His entire body was one tensed muscle. At least I understood now why he was laser-focused on this mission. He wanted to clean the mess he had inadvertently made by allowing black rock into the city. But more than that, he wanted to avenge his parents, because he felt responsible for their deaths.
The reason why Ansel was so adamant about doing everything by himself finally clicked into place. He didn’t want to risk any more lives, despite how much Liam and Demie wanted to help.
“But it’s not your fault your parents died,” I said weakly. I paused, studying his reaction. He was still staring down at the tablecloth, but I could tell he was listening. “Yes, you should have done a better job, but your parents should have never promoted you in the first place. But more important than that, Gregor manipulated you and your parents. He saw an opportunity, and he took it. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else.”
The muscle in Ansel’s cheek tightened so much, I thought he might crack a molar.
I let out a shaky sigh. Kudos to my therapist; she always made this truth-bombing part look so easy. “Your parents loved you a lot, Ansel. I know it’s hard to believe me when I’m an outsider who never met them, but they immigrated to a different country to give you a better life. And when this city turned its back on your family, they started a successful business from the ground up so you could have the life you deserved.”
Ansel still had that distant look in his eyes, the gray the same color of clouds after a thunderstorm. He blinked once, nodding to himself. He angled his chin towards me, giving me a thin smile. “Thank you,” he said weakly.
