Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 741(@200wpm)___ 593(@250wpm)___ 494(@300wpm)
My eyes narrowed. Wallstreet’s mannerisms nudged my subconscious. There was something there—a link to someone I knew—I just couldn’t unscramble it. Yet.
I looked to Arthur, who never stopped watching us, his head volleying with each spoken word.
“Your math. Is that what he’s talking about?”
He nodded. “You know my father hated me wasting time on it. He thought all I needed to know was how to shoot a gun and hurt people.” He cocked his chin at Wallstreet. “Without Cyrus, I wouldn’t have the wealth I do, the Club I run, or the masterpiece of revenge currently in play.”
Wallstreet sighed contentedly. “You truly were the best student I’ve ever taught. And loyal.” He leaned forward, patting Arthur’s hands on the table. “I trust you, my son. Despite the rumors I hear of you going against my orders.”
I turned into a statue.
He’s talking about my sale as if I were nothing more than merchandise.
“I’m sitting right here, you know.” I crossed my arms. “You’re seriously going to berate him for not selling me? For not giving me up after all the time we spent apart?”
“Cleo, cool it,” Arthur muttered. “There’s more to this than you know.”
Oh, for God’s sake. I was done.
“Yes! Apparently everything I seem to know is either wrapped up in things you won’t share or you’ll ‘tell me later.’ ”
“Funny, I didn’t think you would have a temper, Ms. Price.” Wallstreet smiled at me. “Kill always spoke so fondly of you.”
“Just because I stand up for myself, that gives a man grounds not to speak of me fondly?”
Who was this guy? After almost a decade of having no past to rely on to make judgments, I’d learned to listen to my instincts. And they bellowed at me to pay attention.
Arthur held up his hands. “Enough. Both of you.”
Wallstreet smiled, completely unruffled while I breathed hard and angry. “Forgive me. We’re getting off topic.” Looking at Kill, effectively blocking me out, he said, “The man destined to receive the sixth sale—”
“Sixth sale being me.” I glared.
Wallstreet tensed. “Fine, my dear, yes. The sixth sale—you—was meant for Mr. Steel. He was the final pin in the plan. But no matter; we have enough to proceed without it.”
Damn right they did.
I tried to calm down, to stop the boiling temper in my blood. After all, this man had protected Arthur when he’d had no one. A second father to him while he rotted in jail for a crime he still wouldn’t tell me.
Wallstreet was his foster parent, just like the nameless lovely people who’d taken me in.
Wallstreet looked at me again, blue eyes glittering. “You know, there’s destiny and then there’s inevitability. Similar concepts but completely different in execution. I believe this is a bit of both.”
My mind hurt trying to figure it out. “What?”
“Huh?” Arthur asked.
“You and her. Her and you. It was inevitable you would find each other, just like I believe destiny has a part to play in all epic love stories. The question is, have you paid enough to be free from suffering?”
“Who are you?” I whispered. He didn’t talk or act like a criminal. He sounded like a psychologist, a dreamer.
The longer I sat in his presence, the stronger I sensed him. I suspected a hidden agenda, an ulterior motive lurking beneath the fatherly pride he felt toward Arthur.
Wallstreet ran a hand through his white hair. “I’m nobody, Ms. Price. No one of relevance, anyway. Only a man with an eye for numbers and coincidences, just like your lover.”
Arthur gritted his teeth. “They broke in last night.”
The swift change of topic threw me for a moment; I struggled to catch up.
“Did they take it?”
“No. They didn’t find what they were looking for.”
Wallstreet stiffened. “Are you sure about that?”
Arthur growled, “I’m sure. What else could it be?”
Wallstreet’s eyes fell on me. I shifted in my seat as a cold gust of ice shot down my spine. “Forget it,” he said softly.
Looking back to Arthur, he added, “You don’t want to rush this. Years you’ve been planning. Don’t fuck it up when you’re so close.”
Planning? Planning what? I needed to know!
Arthur leaned over the table, lowering his voice. “I have no intention of fucking anything up. It’s time for them to pay. I gave them years. I did as you asked. It’s my turn—”
“You did what I asked so you could reap what is owed to you. Don’t forget I taught you the art of patience as well as trading, my son.”
Arthur pulled back, chastised. “I only meant that I have more than enough wealth. More than enough standing and goodwill in the local community. I have the politicians you wanted all on our side. I control the strings of everyone you ordered me to pull into our power. It’s time. I need to move before they try anything else. It’s war, and I want it on my terms.”