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“It’s usually just my friends who call me that,” I sneer.
“Oh, come now. We’re all friends here.” He smiles wide as though that statement is true. “That being said, I need you to tell me how best to get Daddy dearest to listen to my proposal. Beat you until you’re barely breathing, or just a simple threat to life?” His friendly smile remains in place, somehow making his words more terrifying.
“You’re delusional,” I say, shaking my head. “My father would never sully his good name to work with a common criminal.”
Sydney tsks, shooting me a disapproving look. “Careful now, you remember my son is nothing more than a common criminal too.”
“He’s not trying to coerce my father.”
Sydney nods, almost sadly. “Because he’s weak. Just like his mother.”
I narrow my eyes; I’ve never heard anything about Lance’s mother. I know he has one, obviously, but he never mentioned her. He hardly mentioned his father when we were at university.
“Where is Lance’s mother?” I ask, trying to change the subject from my own parents.
Sydney shrugs, his face twisting in disgust. “Once she became pregnant, I sent her to live outside the city. You see, men like me, Elle, men like Lance, we don’t choose who to marry. My father did a deal with a cooker, the best in the city really…”
“Cooker?”
“Someone who makes drugs, dear,” he patronises. “Anyway, he had a daughter about my age and my father wanted his business, therefore, we were married. Pathetic thing,” he sneers, removing imaginary lint from his suit jacket. “Always so jumpy, meek. Luckily, I managed to get her pregnant within a couple months so I didn’t have to keep her around for long. She’s perfectly happy where she is, it’s quiet and she has her best friends Jack and Johnnie close at hand.”
“God, you’re an arsehole,” I groan.
He chuckles. “Oh Elle, I’ve been quite amenable with you.” Moving quickly, he tips my chair again. I shriek as my stomach bottoms out. Baring his teeth, he gets in my face, his cold dark eyes practically vibrating with evil fury. “But if you want, I can show you just how much of an arsehole I can be.”
“Leave her alone, man,” Gray croaks next to me as I take shallow breaths.
Still holding me balanced on two chair legs with one hand, Sydney uses the other to whip a gun out from his waistband and point it directly in Gray’s face.
“No!” I cry.
“Are you going to start talking to me?” Sydney asks me and I can only nod as tears stream down my cheeks. “Good,” he says, brightly. “Now, I’m going to call Daddy Maxwell and you’re going to sell the whole kidnapping thing to get him over here.”
“Shouldn’t be difficult considering youdidkidnap me and tied me to a chair,” I snap.
Sydney points at me. “See, that there? That’s what I’m talking about Elle, I don’t need your attitude. Unless you’re able to snivel and beg, you will force my hand.”
My eyes roll without volition and Sydney lowers his gun to shoots into Gray’s leg. My friend howls, his head flinging back as the flesh on his thigh pops and rips, his dark blue chinos darkening around the wound. I scream and cry, watching the stain grow and seep further across his thigh.
“Gray!”
He doesn’t answer me, just tries to breathe through his pain. Sydney watches me with a heavy brow and a cold stare.
“What part of all this makes you think I’ll put up with your shit, little girl?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt him, please,” I blubber.
“Now, that’s more like it,” he smiles again. “Let’s make that call.”
The chauffeur from earlier walks over and hands Sydney my phone, he switches it on and I have a sudden hope that Brent will be able to find me if my phone is alive. Sydney holds the device up to my face, unlocking it and then casually searches through my contacts.
“Your father is under Byron? Not Dad?” He looks genuinely surprised.
“We’re not exactly close,” I grumble. “Just one of the many reasons your evil plan probably won’t work.”
“Hmm,” he looks unhappy with that. “Let’s just see how it turns out. If I have to kill you and try something else, so be it.” He waves his hand with an air of boredom, so at odds with the fact there is a gun gripped between his fingers.
Hitting dial, I can hear the ringing of my phone and I just hope that my father will know what to do. Or at least Peter will know what to do.
