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“I would’ve done it if you didn’t,” Dimitri grits. “What do you want to do with the body?” Dimitri never cares about the reason someone is killed; he just handles everything. Which is exactly what I need right now. I haven’t been this pissed off in a while. I welcome the feeling. It reminds me of who I am. Sloane has been getting in my head way too much.
Fuck, I’m killing for her? What the hell is going on?
“Tie his feet to a cement block and drop him in the ocean. Nature will take care of him for me,” I say as I sip the whiskey.
“Done deal,” he answers proudly.
“I told you she’d be a problem,” Lev mutters.
My grip around the glass tightens at Lev’s comment. “I just got done killing a man for insulting her—do you not recognize the pattern here?” I say on a worn-out breath. “She’s not the problem.”
“She is. You feel the need to defend her honor.”
I click my tongue. “Yeah, I fucking do. She doesn’t deserve that disrespect.”
“You disrespect her.”
I clench my jaw in frustration and glare at him. I’ve never known Lev to have a mouth on him. The worst part is that he thinks he’s accomplishing something. As if I’d listen to what he has to say. His smug fucking smile lifts more as the seconds pass.
It takes an immeasurable amount of control to keep myself from reminding Lev of his place beneath me. I’d gladly take a chair and bash his face in, but I’m feeling forgiving today.
Max shuffles his feet in the silence, breaking it by saying, “You made him mad ... That’s not a good place to be.” He laughs.
“Whipped,” Oliver blurts, creating the sound effect of a whip. If he weren’t so young, I’d teach him a lesson.
“What the fuck do you know? You’re sixteen.”
“Dad acts like that with Mom.”
“Because your dad is smitten with your mom. They’re in love. That’s not what this is. This ... this is ... this is frustration,” I say, stuttering over every word.
“Can I say something?” Max asks.
“What?”
“This could actually work out to your benefit. Investors might view you better if you have a lady by your side.”
“Holy shit, that’s a good point!” Dimitri says as he falls on the couch laughing. He’s drunk off his ass. I can feel the heat of my anger boiling inside me like a kettle on a flame.
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” I tell him.
“We’re kind of at the bridge—it’s only a few days away,” Adrian says with a dry, amused look.
“I’m going to bed,” I tell them.
“Think about it!” Dimitri shouts.
At least someone’s enjoying tonight. Leave it to Dimitri to make light of the situation.
All this started because I wanted to do something for my father. He wanted New York, and I want to give him New York, but it feels like the entire plan I’ve come up with over the past two fucking years is fading away from me. That’s what Sloane is doing to me. She gets in my head and makes me forget my anger.
I wave him off and leave.
Stepping out of the room, I pass the dining room and see Sloane staring at the man I killed. His body is slowly falling out of the chair. I feel no pity for him. He should have known better than to say something like that.
Walking up to her, I crouch to the ground. Her chest is covered with specks of blood. I take my thumb and wipe the red spots off her face. Her lips move as if she wants to say something, but she isn’t capable of forming words.
“Sloane,” I say, trying to break her stare.
