Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
He was silent for a very long time. “We don’t. And I’m deeply offended by the accusation.” The tension in the room changed. Now it was heavy with his rage, like a fire that started in the corner and slowly engulfed the entire room. Smoke came out of his eyes. Without raising his voice or saying anything else, it felt like he would kill me and everyone else in the hotel.
Then he got to his feet and approached me.
I remained steady.
In just his boxers, he looked at me. “I’m a businessman who sells a product and kills anyone who interferes with my business. That’s it. I don’t seek revenge on my enemies by raping their wives and daughters. I don’t punish civilians for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I won’t pretend I’m a good man, far from it, but this is…is a fucking slap in the face.”
I cowered beneath him, immediately regretting what I said.
“Just because something happens to you, that doesn’t make it who you are. It’s a verb, not a noun. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you whatsoever. I’d take you on the table right now if I weren’t so pissed off.” His angry eyes continued to bore into mine. “Apologize when you’re ready. And if you don’t—take care.” With that, he walked away, pulled on his clothes, and left the hotel room.
The next few days passed with aching slowness. I went to the gym every morning, got ready, and then went to work for over twelve hours. I didn’t just have to pick out the clothes for my clients, but I also had to alter them. Having a seamstress do it for me was always an option, but every time I tried, their work wasn’t good enough. Clothes didn’t fit correctly, and these clients weren’t paying top dollar for something half-assed. As a result, I had to do everything for the business, and I meant everything.
Once I sat down for more than a couple minutes, my thoughts drifted back to the last conversation I’d had with Bartholomew. Venom had burned in his eyes. It was a harsh thing to say, but I was used to the world that my father had created, a world where any crime was justifiable for crossing him.
Looked like Bartholomew didn’t share that sentiment.
I grabbed my phone and fired off a message. Can we talk?
His response was immediate. Took you long enough. Even though he was busy running a drug empire, he was never too busy to respond to my messages. I’m out right now. I’ll swing by later.
I already told you how I feel about that.
No one is tailing me, and if they were, they would already know all about you. Just because we meet at a hotel doesn’t mean you’re invisible. I put up with the whole charade to make you feel better, but it really makes no difference at all.
I read those words more than once and let them sink in.
I’ll be there within an hour.
I set my phone on the table and waited.
He opened my front door and let himself in. Dressed for the night, he was in his black bomber jacket, black jeans, and the same boots he always wore. He might as well have tattooed “Bad Boy” right on his forehead.
His eyes found mine as I sat at the small dining table, and he took his time as he crossed the room and approached me. Every time his boots hit the wood, it was a distinct thud, showing his heaviness despite his leanness.
He took a seat across from me, one arm resting on the surface of the table, his hard eyes looking at me with coldness.
I suddenly wondered if he carried a gun, because whenever he undressed in front of me, it was nowhere to be found. Maybe he left it in the car.
He continued to stare, waiting for the apology that was long overdue.
“I’m sorry…for what I said.”
He remained still, as if he expected more.
“I just know that most men do that sort of thing…”
“Most men?” he asked in an incredulous tone. “What kind of men do you keep in your company?”
Perhaps this would make more sense if he knew about my past, where I come from, who my father was…but I kept it to myself. “Are there a lot of lines that criminals won’t cross?”
“You’re confusing a criminal with an asshole—and there’s a big difference. Men like me, the top of the food chain, don’t get there by doing whatever we want and causing havoc. Good criminals, the ones who stay alive and get shit done, live by a code of ethics.” He started to count off the rules on his fingers. “Keep your word. Spare the police. Dismiss civilians. That’s pretty much it.”
“Dismiss civilians…?”
“Sometimes people are in the wrong place at the wrong time. They don’t deserve to die because of it.”