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“Thank you?”
She sounds just as inquisitive as Claire did, and I realize I’ve never thanked Danica. She does her job, I pay her, and that is that. But this feels different. She deserves the thanks she has coming, if for nothing else than her loyalty.
“Yes, Danica. Thank you. For being available, for being loyal. For always being prepared. It means a lot to the family and to me.”
Her breath hitches, and then she clears her throat. “Well, I appreciate that, Coleman. I feel like I’m part of your family, and I just appreciate all you do for me.”
She should. I pay her well, and her bonuses are in the tens of thousands every year. She is irreplaceable. And I don’t know what I’m going to do when she decides to retire.
“You’re one of us. Just know this.”
She gives me her thanks once more, and then I hear her sniffle before she rushes me off the phone. With a chuckle, I shove my phone into my pocket as I walk into my hotel room but pause when I realize I’m not alone.
It doesn’t take much, just a single step inside, and I am without a doubt sure there is someone in my room, and it isn’t housekeeping.
ChapterSeven
COLEMAN
Bryson Simon standsat the window of my hotel room, his father beside him, and what appears to be a younger teen boy as well, who must be the youngest Simon, Andrew. My lips twitch into a smile at the sight of the two oldest ones attempting to be tough. The youngest seems as though he would like to be anywhere but here, and I don’t blame him.
Closing the door behind me, I don’t bother feeling intimidated or even the slightest bit worried by their appearance. They’re trying to be threatening, but it doesn’t work. I’m not someone who can be frightened. That was beat out of me at a young age as part of my training.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my hotel suite?” I ask.
Bryson growls but doesn’t say anything. It’s clear he is not in charge, just the tattletale. Andrew doesn’t even look up. His gaze is on the floor at his feet, and I can tell he’s trembling just by the quick glance in his direction. He seems a bit more aware of what’s happening around him and what position he’s in.
“You thought it was appropriate to go to my oldest child and not only intimidate him but also threaten him?” Aaron, the father, barks before he takes a step forward.
He reminds me so much of Ray Randolph in this moment, a man playing at being strong, but in reality, he is weak. The weakest kind of man. Anyone who would sell their child for a clean loan because they spent too much money selfishly is fucking weak.
“Does it matter?” I ask.
He presses his lips together in a thin line, jerking his chin upward. Clearly, it matters. I have to leave in a few hours, and although my bags are packed, I’d like to get something to eat and take a shower before I travel, but this asshole is going to take that away from me.
“Bryson here thought he would meet his sister in a club and then just leave her there alone. I didn’t like that. I had something to say about that, and I made myself clear. What is your fucking reason for coming here?” I ask.
Aaron turns his head to look at Bryson, then shifts his attention back to me. “Don’t threaten my family,” he states. “Claire isn’t yours yet.”
My lips curve up into a grin. “And your loan isn’t forgiven yet.”
His eyes widen, and he blinks once, then twice. I don’t know what he thought I was going to say or do today, but it’s clear he expected me to back down in some way. Laughing once, I shake my head, unbelieving that these people can be so fucking stupid.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
He should. “So is this where I tell you that you need to pay in full before I leave?” I ask.
Aaron opens his mouth, then snaps it shut, then opens it and snaps it closed again. Bryson takes a step forward, but Aaron reaches out, wrapping his fingers around his shoulder and hauling him backward.
“No,” Aaron barks. “No, don’t do that.”
I smile as he begins to sweat.
It’s clear that he likes the arrangement but is wrestling with it at the same time. He’s just plain weak. I have no other thoughts about him. Nobody could take my daughter from me, to own, to consume. And yet, he simply just handed her over to save his own ass.
“Then get the fuck out. I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
He nods his head once, then grabs Andrew’s bicep before dragging him out of the room. Andrew looks back at me, his eyes finding mine, and I can read the silent plea in them. I realize that in this moment, he’s very much like Claire. Bryson doesn’t move. His eyes focus on mine, and I can see the anger in them. He takes a step forward, but I can’t do anything other than smirk at him.
