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“You did,” I agree. “And why did you do this?”
He shakes his head, tipping it backward slightly as he looks up at me. “Because I didn’t think he would find out.”
Our family business is real estate. It’s what we know, what we’ve always known. We buy commercial properties, we rent them out, we sell them. It’s what we do. On the surface, we deal with sellers, investors, and with banks. Beneath the surface, we deal with sellers, investors, and bankers.
This man is a banker.
Though he isn’t dead yet, he’s as good as.
“And who did you give this money to?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nobody. I used it for my kids’ college.”
Leaning forward, I tilt my head to the side and lift my hand to run my palm across my jaw and lips. He’s full of shit, a liar, and using his kids in his lie, which makes him a goddamn piece of shit at the same time.
“Your houses in Mexico and Florida prove otherwise,” I murmur. “Did you think I would not have had you looked into before I came here?”
“My family,” he blurts out. “I have a daughter. Do you want her?”
I snort, though my face shows zero expression. I can barely keep a straight face that this man would willingly offer his daughter as a lamb to the slaughter. A fucking piece of shit. Shaking my head slowly, I clear my throat.
“No, and if I did, I would not need your permission to take her.”
Coleman clears his throat again, which is his signal for me to hurry up because he’s hungry. He knows that tonight we’re to go to a family dinner.
Although, I’m surprised that he’s in a hurry for that because he usually despises them, and since he’s in deep shit with Dad, he’s probably going to have to hear about that for a while. A thought that makes me smile.
Family dinners.
They’re a requirement, however, not by my father, but my mother.
We always do as Mother asks because our mother is the true director when it comes to the home and her boys. Jerking my chin in a single nod, I lean forward, producing my knife. Normally, I would do something much cleaner in this circumstance, but the cleanup crew has been bored recently, so I’m going to give them a job to complete.
I lift my knife and press it against the center of his throat. “Maybe I’ll fuck her anyway. I could always use new ass to tap. I’ll make sure to let her know that her daddy sent me.”
Pressing the knife harder into his throat, I watch as he begins to bleed. “This is for your betrayal.”
Pressing the knife even farther into his neck, I watch as the blood begins to flow from his throat before it sprays all over me. I should not like looking into his eyes and watching the light drain out of them.
I should not enjoy it as much as I do, but I’ve been doing this for ten years, and every time, I like it a little more. I’m probably some kind of psycho or something, but I don’t care. I have a feeling this means I’m losing my humanity. I’m probably going to be a monster soon if I’m not already.
I’m pretty sure I am a monster made by the family, created, harvested, and fed day after day, month after month, and year after year.
“Cleanup crew has been called,” Coleman states.
I drop the knife and leave it beside his body. They’ll get rid of the weapon as well as the body. Taking a step backward, I shake my head once, getting rid of thoughts of inhumanity, the family, and everything that flows through my mind on a regular basis and look over at him.
“You ready for Mom’s takeout?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Yeah. Where do you think she ordered from this week?”
Together, we walk out of the office. It’s a Saturday night, and the whole building is empty. The meeting wasn’t set, at least not with me. They don’t happen often, but meetings on Saturdays aren’t as rare as one would think, especially when you’re meeting with clients and investors from all over the world.
This was supposed to be a meeting between the banker and his favorite client, Titus Atticus, a faux name that I give for a very real person in history, one that I’m sure nobody else recalls. A real estate investor from ancient Rome. I find it fitting.
“Pasta,” I call out as I take the handkerchief from my pocket and wipe the blood from my face.
It’s not enough. I’m going to need to shower and change my clothes. We move through the office, and I head toward the executive bathroom, knowing there will be a shower. Coleman calls out that he’ll grab my bag from the car, which has a change of clothes inside.
