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“Gio,” he says, holding out a hand. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Gio plasters on a fake smile. “It’s great to see you too, Alastair. I have someone I’d like you to meet. This is Isiah Darcy. He’s visiting from London.”
“Darcy, huh?” Alastair asks, smirking. “I’ve heard you caused quite a stir over the other side of the pond.”
“A stir?” I ask, feeling my blood boiling just talking to a low life like him.
“Yes, I hear you ousted your competition rather impressively after he murdered your father.”
The guy mentions the murder of my father rather flippantly, with a smirk on his face. If I actually gave a shit about my dad and his death, then it would be offensive.
I crack my neck. “Who exactly are you?”
“Alastair Jameson,” he says, holding a hand out to me.
I eye it warily, but notice the look of encouragement Gio gives me. Clenching my jaw and shoving my warped moral compass into the back of my mind, I take his hand and we shake. Some people would question how I can murder people without a second thought one second and then draw the line at shaking a pedo’s hand. The fact is, we all have lines we won’t cross.
“Have a seat, gentlemen,” Alastair says, gesturing toward a booth in the corner. “I hear you have some fresh meat for me, Gio.”
Gio’s eyes dart between me and him two times before he nods. “Yes, I will send you the details tomorrow.”
Alastair looks a little frustrated before glancing at me. “So, Isiah, how long are you in town?”
I narrow my eyes, tension swirling through the air as my rage takes on a mind of its own. “It’s not decided,” I say, unable to keep the animosity out of my tone.
Gio clears his throat and I can see him shooting me a warning look out of the corner of my eye. If it weren’t for the fact that my entire plan hinges on this man accepting me into his family so that I can bring him to his knees, I’d shoot both of them in the face right here in public.
Alastair’s eyes linger on me for a few moments before he finally looks away and turns his attention back to Gio. “Well then, let’s get down to business,” he says briskly.
Gio nods, reaching inside his coat pocket to retrieve an envelope.
He slides it across the table toward Alastair. Alastair pulls the envelope closer but doesn’t acknowledge it.
“So, what is it I can do for you today?” Alastair asks, eyebrow raised slightly.
“I have a proposition.” Gio glances at me, smiling widely. I still don’t know why I’m here. “Isiah is hopefully going to be my son-in-law, and you mentioned how interested you are in British politics.”
No fucking way.
I’m not making any deal with this pedo, not while there’s breath in my body.
Alastair smiles, rubbing his hands together as if he could visualize the money rolling in. British politics is as corrupt as American politics, and clearly this son of a bitch wants a slice of each.
“That’s very interesting indeed,” Alastair says, his voice making my skin crawl.
I rub a hand across the back of my neck, struggling to focus on the conversation as Gio begins making proposals on my behalf. The guy has some nerve thinking that because I want to marry his daughter that he can treat me like this and push me into a deal I don’t want.
Rage prickles at the back of my neck as I try to keep it in check, since I just need to bide my time and pretend I’m interested. Once I’m married to Bella, Gio will trust me wholeheartedly, and that’s when the fun begins. I’ll break any bullshit deal I make with this man—hell, I’ll make sure he’s buried six feet under along with Gio Benedetto and the rest of his family.
I’m silent during their conversation, as the whole situation makes me sick to my stomach; here is this man with no morals or integrity, making deals with criminals and exploiting children, all while seemingly getting away with it scot-free. A fucking senator. I’m reminded why I hate the Benedettos all the more when Gio participates in something so perverse. It only cements my desire for revenge on his family even more deeply.
My thoughts are jarred away when Gio’s phone begins to ring, and he excuses himself to the restroom to answer it. My eyes stray toward Alastair, whose attention is directed solely on me.
His gaze feels like daggers as he takes in every inch of me, and I notice he has a strange tattoo on the back of his hand. I haven’t seen one like it before and I wonder what it means.
“So, Isiah, I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“Really?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “And what have you heard?” It’s definitely not an honor to meet him.
