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“It was you who planted the stuff on Matthew Bouchard, wasn't it?”
I hold my silence, neither confirming nor denying my involvement. It was obvious it was me.
“He nothing to do with me.”
“Dante this is the reckless shit I can’t stand with you. Matthew got ten years. Jason managed to get it down to two with the hope of early release.”
Lucky bastard.“Good for him.”
“What is your interest in Jason's daughter? Family is off limits. She is off limits to you, so I pray you weren't messing with her to get to Jason.”
I wish I was.
“You don't have to worry about that.”
“Whatever fascination you have with her needs to end.”
I push my feet. I’m done here. I’m not going to talk about Serenity with him. The less I say about her the better.
“I'll be here Monday to Thursday every week starting next week. From nine till four.” My answer doesn't fit the conversation but it signals the end of our previous discussion..
He looks like he would blow my head off if he could. “That is fine.” He speaks through gritted teeth, clearly fed-up of me.
The problem is I’m an Alpha and he’s a beta masking as an alpha.
“Good, see you then.”
I make my way out.
“Dante.”
I stop. I glance back up my shoulder, over my shoulder at him.
“You need to leave that girl alone.”
“I told you don’t need to worry about that.” If I say anything else I’ll be guilty of more lies.
* * *
The next night I decide to stay back a little later at the club.
It’s my night to do the accounts. Virgo still hasn’t shown his face here but he’s been checking in and out of our other two.
Just as I’m finishing up, footsteps at my door interrupt my thoughts.
I look up to see Virgo standing there. He looks like shit. Like he’s been on a bender of drink and drugs for weeks.
The last time he looked so disheveled was when Olivia went missing.
The pain reflected in his eyes is so vivid I hope he’s not going to tell me he just got confirmation that she died.
“Virgo.” I say his name as if I’m checking it’s him.
He stumbles into the office and the scent of rum burns my nose.
Virgo sits in the chair in front of me and gives me a hard stare.
“You’re my best friend, Dante. Aren’t you?” His voice is hoarse and gravelly as if someone poured sand into his throat.
