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“You’re a dickhead,” I seethe back. “You understand that, don’t you? You’re acting like an absolute dickhead.”
“If you do not let me handle things my way, then you will further incite a war that our families can ill afford.” He continues as though he hasn’t heard a word I said. “In this case, you’ll let me take the lead and figure a way to get you out of this.”
No one hears me when I speak.
Why would Ricardo be any different?
Only foolish hope had me thinking better of him. Hunger is addling my brain, it seems, and turning me away from logic and into a beast of pure reaction.
“Which is why,” I tell him, making sure to keep a smile in my voice, one not echoed on my face, “I am in the best position to take them down from the inside. Tell me what I need to know, show me the steps, and we will be able to not only destroy the contract but destroy a competitor in the same breath. It’s the simplest solution, and it’s staring you right in the face.”
A few murmured threats filter through the intercom, and although I have more to say, I zip my lips.
I shouldn’t have to convince Ricardo of my worth. Or anyone else. He should see it. Everyone should be able to see what I bring to the table, especially at my insistence. How many times have I tried to tell my father, my mother, and my sister to include me over the years? How I begged and pleaded only to have them shove me off?
When I was young enough, they called it education. Then vacations. Anything and everything to keep me on a string until I stopped questioning them and started gladly dancing to their tune.
And sure, I bet there were people out there who would be happy with the lifestyle and being kept the way I’ve been kept. People would be happy for the wealth and the opportunity.
I had nothing but gratitude for my family and my upbringing.
Was it wrong to want more?
Once Mom and Dad and their people no longer had control over my movements, they told me I had better things to do with my time, while alternately turning around and chiding me for being the flippant party girl at the same time.
I let my head drop back further against the seat and stared at the ceiling. The hum of wheels over asphalt became a balm, my stomach still rumbling ominously. Everyone wants to shuttle me off. Better to get me out of sight, out of mind, than actually listen to what I have to say.
Let me handle this. Do what I say.
I press my index fingers into my temples and increase the pressure.
Ricardo is no different from the others, and the more I remember it, the better off I will be. Losing myself to him again is asking for not only trouble but heartbreak, and once, I might have been willing to take the dive, but now…
If I remember how bad he is for me, then maybe I’ll be able to quit him.
The car pulls up in front of a discreet brick building a few blocks over from the last streets considered part of the downtown area. Not close enough for walkability but the proximity to the bulk of shops and restaurants is surely a help. It takes less than half a breath to understand Ricardo chose this space, the sole reason that he comes here often.
The strip club his family owns.
Several pieces of information click into place together.
He brought me to a damn strip club. It looked tasteful on the outside and, according to the sign, catered to a certain type of experience. Nothing so tawdry as greasy skin and loose change on the floor.
From the outside, there are no signs heralding even the name of the place, only hammered brass numbers against the brick.
“This place used to be owned by the Accardis before their unfortunate disbanding. They were a competitor in a market I’ve solely wished to dominate,” Ricardo says as he opens the door for me. He holds out a hand, waiting for me to accept.
And standing there with sunlight illuminating him from behind, he looks like a god ripped straight out of the Underworld. Dark and imposing and so completely male, certain parts of me quivered.
I tell those parts to shut the fuck up and go about their business.
“Like you needed another strip joint,” I mutter foully, wishing I’d taken him up on the shower last night or fuck, at least gone upstairs to change my clothes before he whisked me out of the house again.
“I need another asset to bring in cash to support myself and my family,” he corrects smoothly. “This one is in my name only, of course. I had some money saved and purchased it before it went on the market.”
I finally slap my palm against his, and he tugs me to my feet, close enough to him to smell his cologne.
Ricardo nestles my hand in the crook of his elbow. In the next breath, he ushers us through the side door. Two of his men in front of us, and two of his men behind.
