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I lick my dry lips and ask the question Evie had asked a mere couple of hours ago. “How much am I worth?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “You’re priceless.”
I hug myself. “I mean, what you do want in exchange for my life? That’s why you took me, right?”
The shadow that drifts like a black cloud over his face settles in the depth of his eyes. It makes him look like the devil himself. That’s when I recognize the evil lurking inside him. He’s even crueler and more dangerous than what I’ve given him credit for. Chills run over my arms, waking goosebumps.
A slow smile curves his lips. “What do you think?”
Money and territory, like everyone. That’s what these wars are always about. Since the question is rhetorical, I remain silent.
He leans closer, somehow invading my space even with the distance between us. His voice is level, but violence carries on his tone. “I want what’s mine.”
My mouth goes dry. I’ve just made the error of assumption I flaunted in Mateo’s face. Roman wants the diamond, the stone that belonged to his father, and that’s the one possession Bell Warren will never part with.
If that’s the case, I’m as good as dead.
CHAPTER 4
Roman
My captive is locked in. I had my personal shopper prepare the room in advance. The closet is stocked with clothes in Evie’s size, and her usual upmarket brand of jasmine-scented toiletries are packed in the bathroom cabinet. There’s even a basket with fruit and bottles of water if she’s thirsty or feels like snacking. It’s more comfort than what any prisoner deserves, but I have my reasons for keeping her in good health.
The room is devoid of sharp objects like scissors or nail files. Still, I put a man in front of her door in case she decides to break a window or mirror and use the shards as a weapon. I won’t put it past her. She’s feisty. The deep grooves she left on my cheek are proof of that.
After instructing the guard to let me know if Evie tries anything stupid, I go to the recreation room where I was heading before deciding to make a detour to check on my prisoner. The large space is crowded with men. Some drink beer at the bar while others play pool and darts. Mateo is already there. He slips behind the counter, pours a whiskey, and puts it in front of me. Seeing that we’re secluded in our corner, I make use of the opportunity to pick a bone with him.
“Butter?” I say, making sure he hears my irritation as I take the glass.
He purses his lips.
He’s not getting off the hook that easily. “What happened to ham and cheese? Or simple peanut butter and jelly?”
He slams a palm on the counter. “She’s Warren’s princess, not ours.”
My tone is dry. “I’m well aware.”
“Then why do you treat her like one?”
I raise a brow. “Does stealing her and locking her up equal royal treatment in your book?”
He returns my sarcasm with a dirty look. “Warren will get her back soon enough. Leave the fucking pampering to him.”
I regard him steadily as I take a sip of my drink.
The scowl on his face smooths out. Shock widens his eyes. “You’re not going to give her back.”
I don’t answer.
He stabs his fingers into his hair. “Fuck.” Lowering his voice, he glances around before asking, “Are you going to kill her? Is that your plan? Is that why you’re not letting us in?”
My tone is harsh. “I’ll do what I have to do, and you’ll follow orders for as long as I’m the head of this family.”
He raises his hands. “Fine. If you want to fly solo, play it your way.”
“It’s not about playing solo,” I grind out. “You have to trust me.”
“Then what’s the next step?”
I gave him the same answer of earlier. “We make Warren wait.”
His chest rises as he drags air through his nose. “I hate her as much as you do, but killing a woman isn’t how we operate. That’s not us.”
Patting his shoulder, I say, “Sometimes, brother, death is a more compassionate fate.”
He stares after me as I walk to the center of the room and demand my men’s attention.
For the next few minutes, I go over the details of the clean-up. Like my informant confirmed, the police don’t have the resources to scout the area all the way to the factory for prints or DNA, but I never leave a trail behind.
When I’m certain that everything was handled to my satisfaction, I go back to my study and close the door for privacy. Rubbing my neck, I sink into the chair. The business of vengeance has fueled me for so long, I don’t know anything else. My life has no other purpose.
Pulling the frame on my desk closer, I study the photo. My father has his arm around my mother. Her smile is carefree and her hair windblown against the backdrop of the sea. Mateo and I pose in front of them, both of us wearing swimming trunks. It was a happy holiday. I don’t keep photos of later when the business went bankrupt and my mother was left penniless to fend alone for two teenage boys. Those memories are locked inside my chest. If I take them out, I’ll become too volatile. I need to maintain control. Without control, it will be too easy to kill Warren, and dying is too merciful for him. No. I want to ruin him. I want him to lose everything he cares about. I want him to go down in poverty and suffer my father’s fate. That’s the only rightful vengeance—an eye for an eye.
