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)
“Andre.” I took a drink.
He sat across from me at the table in the bar. It was ten in the evening, so most of the seats were empty. Benton had a sleepiness to his gaze, like he wasn’t used to staying up late these days. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did I.”
“That must have been hard for you.”
“Not really.” Betray me—and you were dead to me.
“How did you find out?”
“One of the guys did a deep dive into their records because he suspected Andre was skimming off the top. I didn’t believe it since Andre isn’t the stupid type, but it turned out to be true.”
“You’re certain of that?”
“He admitted it before I killed him.”
Benton took a drink then licked his lips. “Fuck me.”
Andre had taken the hits like a man. Didn’t beg. Didn’t plead. Didn’t make a sound. I respected him—even as I took his life. “It is what it is.” I took a drink and left the empty glass on the table.
“You’re awfully calm about this.”
Now I was. “Even the most honorable men can’t resist temptation when it’s right in front of them. Whether it’s cheating on their wife with a woman half her age, or adjusting the scales and pocketing some change. The love of their life could leave them. Or they could lose their life. But in the moment, it all seems worth it.” I waved the waitress over, and she immediately brought me another drink. “They always think they can outsmart me—fucking hilarious.” I released a quick chuckle before I took a drink. “How’s the wife?”
Benton took a while to answer, like he was thinking about his time at my side. “Uncomfortable. She’s a petite woman, so pregnancy doesn’t agree with her.”
“No surprise there.”
“We’re thinking of moving to my place in the countryside. Outgrowing the townhouse.”
“Claire will have to change schools.”
“She makes friends easily.”
“How is she?” I asked.
Benton grew quiet again. “There are moments when her eyes glaze over, like she’s thinking about it…or her mother. But for the most part, she’s the same happy girl she’s always been.” He took a drink, the ice cubes rushing to his lips before he set the glass down again. “Bleu?”
“He’s really proven himself.”
Benton stared at me, his hard expression hiding the anger underneath.
“What do you want me to do, Benton? Fire him?”
He stared at his glass.
“Remember, he came to me.”
“Trust me, I know.” He took another drink.
“He didn’t want to build apartments anymore. He wanted to make some real money—”
“At what cost?” Benton snapped. “Pushing drugs on the street? He already saw what I went through.”
“What did you go through exactly?” I said coldly. “Your townhouse is worth over two million euros, and your estate outside the city is worth ten million. The only reason you can put Claire in private school and have your wife be a housewife is because of me.”
Benton was dead silent for seconds, and that was basically the same thing as screaming. “Are we going to pretend you didn’t take Claire—”
“That was after—”
“If I didn’t do what you wanted, you were going to make me do it anyway. Like I was your goddamn slave.” His face turned red.
“I apologized for that—”
“And I’ll never forgive you.”
It was like a little knife in my side. Didn’t see it coming. “If you want me to get rid of Bleu, I will. I’ll take the blame. He’ll never have to know that you asked.”
Benton remained quiet, apparently too angry to speak.
I remained still, holding his gaze without blinking.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“I won’t interfere with his life decisions. If I did, I would be no better than you.”
“You shot me, remember? I thought we were past this.”
“My daughter was imprisoned by a bunch of acid-pushing freaks. No, we’ll never be past this, Bartholomew.” He finished the rest of his glass then walked straight out of the bar—without looking back.
When are you coming?
I’d forgotten about our plans. I’m not. Shit came up.
Everything okay?
Everything is fucking great.
Can I call you?
I ignored the question. I left the phone on the desk as I sat there, a bottle and a glass in front of me, ignoring all the work that required my attention because I was too furious to focus.
The phone rang, and her name appeared.
I ignored it, dragging my fingers over the coarse hair along my jawline.
She didn’t leave a message.
But she called me again. It kept vibrating on the desk with every ring.
Bleu walked into the room. “The car will be here in five minutes.”
All I had to do was give him a look, and that changed our plans.
“Let us know when you’re ready.” He shut the door behind him.
I grabbed the phone and answered. “What?”
“I—I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”
“I told you I was fine.”
“But you clearly aren’t fine.”
Silence. Seething silence.
“You can always talk to me. I want you to know that.”