6. Theo
6
THEO
Axel called a couple times.
Left a few messages.
I knew if I ignored him completely, he would think I was dead, so I responded with a simple message. I need space right now. That single sentence would tell him everything that happened without the details.
He didn’t reply.
I worked as usual, and none of the guys seemed to know anything was amiss. I’d always been quiet and moody, so it was just another day to them. When I was home, I drank and smoked and stared at the fire. When I didn’t want to be home, I went to the bar to watch the football game. I considered paying my favorite escort to fuck Astrid out of my head, but I had no appetite for the flesh.
Well, someone else’s flesh, at least.
So I sat in my study and stared at the fire and the paintings on the wall, the paintings that I didn’t have the heart to take down. I smoked too many cigars and my tongue started to feel fuzzy, but I continued to fill my lungs with smoke and drink my scotch in the hope my lungs would either suffocate or drown.
Didn’t matter which.
My butler came into the open doorway. “Sir, you have a guest in the foyer.”
I sighed in annoyance. “Tell Axel to go home.”
“Actually, it’s Scarlett. Should I send her up?”
I felt the surprise move across my face because Axel’s wife was not who I expected. “Yes.”
He gave a slight bow before he walked off.
I stabbed my cigar into the ashtray and put it out, the smoke still coming from the pile of ashes that sat there. Then I walked to the armchair behind the desk and found a sweater that I’d left there a few weeks ago. I pulled it over my head and was immediately suffocated by the heat.
“You don’t have to clean up for me, Theo.”
I pulled the sweater down to the top of my sweatpants then turned to face her.
She stood near the door, wearing skintight black jeans and heeled boots with a tight sweater over her thin frame. Her dark hair was in curls, and her enormous wedding ring was a sparkle of light. She wore a slight smirk on her lips, but there was pity in her eyes.
I sat in the armchair again. “I know Axel would prefer me clothed around his wife.” I was bigger than he was, and that was always a playful strain on our friendly competition. The biggest difference between us was I adhered to my protein necessities, but he was married to a chef so he didn’t have the discipline to stick to his macros religiously like I did. He was muscular and cut, in great shape, but he didn’t have the muscle that I did.
She rolled her eyes as she joined me in the study, sitting in the other armchair. “He knows he’s the finest man I’ve ever seen, so you don’t have to wear that hot sweater.”
“It sounds like you want me to get undressed.”
She smirked. “I’m just saying I don’t mind it. And you don’t have to put out your cigar either.”
“I would never smoke in front of a lady.”
“I’m not a lady. I’m your sister-in-law.”
“Which means I respect you even more.”
Affection moved into her gaze. “How are you?”
“I’m sure you two can figure it out.” I leaned sideways into the chair, one elbow on the armrest, my knuckles against my cheek.
“Axel wanted to come by, but he was afraid it would piss you off.”
“And he was right.”
“So he thought he would send me instead.”
“I can’t get mad at you…so, smart move.”
A little smile moved on to her lips. “I made you something. Gave it to your butler.”
“Thanks.” I wasn’t as hungry as I normally was. Didn’t lift that morning either.
“I’m surprised she said no.”
I’d only been told no once before, but it wasn’t really a no. “It’s complicated.”
“She chose the safe option. Not that complicated.”
“I don’t think she would have chosen the safe option if I hadn’t made the wrong choice. I offered her almost nothing, and she was still putting all her chips in the pile. But I fucked up and said a lot of shit I can’t take back.”
“Why don’t you just tell her that Bolton twisted your arm?”
“I was going to if I thought she would choose me, but it was obvious her mind was set. I didn’t want to lose her and lose my chance to avenge Killian too. Too much of a risk.”
“But maybe she would have made a different choice if she knew that, Theo.”
“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “But something else happened to make her pick Bolton, though I don’t know what it is.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“She called me, and when I didn’t pick up, she called Bolton. For whatever fucking reason, that made her choose Bolton. A fucking phone call.”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“I was in a meeting with the Colombians. Ever since Draven riled them up, they’ve been a fucking pain in the ass. Keep asking for more than they deserve. If they want their product in Europe, they have to go through me and accept my terms. Period.”
“That didn’t answer my question, Theo,” she said. “Because Axel always took my call, regardless of what he was doing. When the Colombians were about to kill me and my father, all I did was drop my location to him because I knew that would be enough. The second he felt his phone vibrate, he would check it to make sure it wasn’t me before he ignored it. And if it was me, everything else could wait. So, why didn’t you answer?”
Guilt rushed through me because she was right. “Because I thought she wanted to continue the conversation we’d already had, and I didn’t have the heart to deal with it.”
All she did was stare at me.
“But I called her back a minute later, and she didn’t answer.”
“What if she needed help, Theo?”
Another wave of guilt flooded me, picturing her with a flat tire on the bad side of town…or worse.
“And you weren’t there?”
I already felt like shit, but now I felt worse.
“If she was genuinely scared and Bolton was there for her, then it does make sense. You ended things when she was prepared to leave her marriage to be with you. You were still the first one she called when she needed someone—and you didn’t take her call. It makes sense, Theo.”
“If she were my woman, I would have taken that call. I would take all her calls.”
“But she wasn’t Bolton’s woman either, and he still answered.”
I stared at the fireplace and felt the self-loathing wash over me.
“If Axel hadn’t come, I would be dead…or worse. And I’m not sure if we would have gotten past that. He would have hated himself for not being there, and I would have resented him for not protecting me like he’d promised. I understand her perspective. When we feel threatened, we switch into survival mode, and we examine our reality and our choices in a very different manner.”
I kept my eyes on the fireplace. “We’re making a lot of assumptions about this phone call.”
“All we have are assumptions, Theo. Why else wouldn’t she tell you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because she doesn’t want you to feel bad. Because she doesn’t want to admit that you were the first person she thought of…and you failed her.”
I turned my gaze back to her, speaking to her differently than I did to Axel because she had a feminine touch that made even the harshest words still feel soft. The two of us had a natural chemistry when we met. I could feel it across the dinner table. That attraction had deepened into a familial bond, and now there was nothing between us except for a love between a brother and a sister. “What do I do?”
“I—I don’t know, Theo.”
“She said she didn’t want to see me again. That she’d made her choice.”
“Then it sounds like there’s nothing you can do.”
I closed my eyes and released a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking about your brother. And you were scared to be in another relationship after how your last one ended. It’s understandable. I’m sure your desire to avenge your brother is sincere, but I wonder if you hid behind that a bit when you broke it off with her. Used it as an excuse in a way.”
Yeah, I probably did.
“I think it’s done,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” I wanted to confront Astrid again, but she’d made her desires very clear. And if I crossed her boundaries, it would be out of selfishness. That wasn’t the kind of man I wanted to be. I fucked it up—and that was on me. “I just wish I knew what happened with that call.”
“Yeah. I do too.”
When I got a call from a blocked number, I knew it was game time.
I answered. “Yes?”
“Ready to get to work?” It was Bolton with his signature arrogance.
There was no going back now. “I should be the one asking that question.”
“I’ll meet you at Chez Patrice at seven.”
“Is this a fucking date?” I snapped. It was a French restaurant, a place for dinner for couples and families, not people like us.
“If it is, you’re the one who’s going to get fucked in the ass after dinner.” He hung up.
I arrived at the restaurant first and got a table for two.
Some of my guys were seated at another table, not blending in whatsoever to the romantic atmosphere. I had more stationed outside, less obvious. No doubt Bolton would do the same.
I ordered a scotch as I waited, my arm draped over the back of the chair next to me, eyes on the door so this fucked-up date could begin. If Bolton fucked around and made this a living hell, it would make me regret my decision more.
As I took a drink of my scotch, I saw him appear in the doorway.
But he wasn’t alone.
He wasn’t flanked by his men with guns poorly hidden from sight in the tops of their jeans. He was with a single person.
Astrid.
He held her hand as he opened the door for her.
She looked radiant, wearing a skintight black dress with an opening in the fabric along her ribs and the side of her stomach, showing beautiful, kissable skin. Her curled hair was pulled over one shoulder, diamond earrings in her lobes. In sky-high heels that gave her several inches of height, she was still short compared to me.
She let him guide her forward as he approached our table. She looked around the restaurant at the other diners then turned her head forward to look at me.
It all happened in slow motion.
The look on her face… She had no idea.
She was fucking blindsided.
As was I.
Her face blanched to the color of snow, and the alarm in her eyes looked like the red and blue lights of a police car. The confidence in her stance evaporated as her shoulders slouched, and she tried to become as small as possible…and disappear.
Bolton looked like he’d never felt more alive.
He pulled out the chair across from me, so she could sit there.
She hesitated as she stood next to the table, looking at me like a frightened animal in the scope.
I was just as surprised, but I did a better job of not showing it.
“Sit down, baby,” Bolton said gently, looking at me as he said the word baby.
She slowly lowered herself as the chair caught her ass. Then she went still, her eyes moving to the surface of the table, the quick pulse in her neck twitching noticeably as she suffered a silent panic.
Bolton took his seat and waved for the waitress. “I’ll take a glass of the Bordeaux. My wife will have the same.” His eyes were glued to mine like an arts and crafts project. When the waitress left, he cocked his head slightly and continued his silent standoff. He moved his arm over the back of Astrid’s chair.
He might as well unbutton his pants and piss on her.
It should hurt to see her with him right across from me, but I had no reason to be jealous. Not when she looked fucking miserable. Not when her husband forced her into a situation that made her so uncomfortable she couldn’t even look at me.
There was only one explanation for his behavior.
He knew.
He knew I’d tried to take her away from him.
Astrid would never snitch, so he’d figured it out some other way. Maybe it was her mood. Maybe it was something she said over dinner. Maybe he had one of his guys watch the front door while she worked in the gallery.
It didn’t matter now.
The waitress returned with the drinks, and she seemed to pick up on the threat that hung in the air like smoke because she chose to walk away rather than ask if we wanted a starter.
“Doing okay, Theo?” Bolton asked. “You look a little sick.”
Astrid grabbed her wine and took a drink, her gaze still angled down.
I continued to lounge with my arm over the back of the chair, looking at him so Astrid would have some privacy to process the horror she was forced to suffer. “I’ll play your games, Bolton. But spare Astrid the turmoil. She doesn’t deserve the punishment.”
He stared, his eyes shifting slightly. “You think I’m punishing her?”
“She’s the only one at this table who’s suffering.”
“And you aren’t?” he asked in disbelief.
“My only suffering is seeing her with someone who doesn’t deserve her. She’s having a panic attack right in front of you, but you don’t even notice. Put your wife in a fucking cab and spare her this indecency.”
Bolton reached for his glass of wine and took a drink as he dismissed my words.
“Let’s not forget why she fucked me in the first place, Bolton.” I didn’t raise my voice, but my anger was deep in my tone. “The reason we’re all sitting at this table right now. The chain of events that you started because she wasn’t enough for you.”
Bolton took another drink like my words bounced off him.
I looked at Astrid.
Her eyes were still down on her glass.
“You don’t have to stay, Astrid.” I nodded toward the door. “Go.”
“She’s fine,” Bolton said. “You don’t need to speak for her.”
My eyes flicked back to his. “Neither do you.”
Astrid remained, caught in the crossfire between our smoking guns.
Another stretch of silence passed. A heavy one. A standoff among all three of us.
The waitress returned to take our orders. This was exactly the reason I didn’t do business at restaurants because food and work didn’t mingle. Only booze did. “I’ll take the Caesar,” I said, assuming it was on the menu.
It was the first time Astrid spoke. “I’ll have the same.”
“I’ll take the steak—medium.”
The table was silent again, the three of us locked in a wordless battle. Bolton had his eyes locked on me, as if to make sure I didn’t look at Astrid right across from me. It was a test he wanted me to fail.
Astrid wouldn’t leave, so there was nothing I could do to spare her the torture. “Are we doing this or not?”
“Are we?” he asked, cocking his head slightly. “Because it seems like you’re having second thoughts.”
“I upheld my end of the deal, Bolton.” I ended the relationship, and that was the reason we were in this shitshow. If I hadn’t broken it off with Astrid, all of our lives would be drastically different. She would have filed for divorce already.
He continued his hard and ruthless stare.
I stared back.
It was the first time Astrid looked up. “What was your end of the deal?” Her eyes went to me, looking at me head on for the first time since she’d walked into the restaurant. So curious by what I’d said, she seemed to forget the monster who held the sword to her neck.
When I looked into her green eyes, I forgot everything else for a quiet instant. I forgot about the commotion in the restaurant, the asshole who sat beside her with an invisible leash in his hands. I wanted to answer her question, but my hands were tied, and I silently pleaded for her to pull at this thread on her own, to keep pulling until the ball of yarn came unraveled.
Bolton interrupted the stare. “You want the name?”
I pulled my gaze away from Astrid and looked at him again.
“Beau,” he said. “Beau Draven.”
The sound of his name was powerful enough to make me forget about the woman across from me. Rage pounded under my skin as my heart took off at a sprint. The man who’d had my brother killed had already been on my list for years. I’d traded Astrid for it. For nothing.
“I know you’ve wanted him dead for a while—to no success.”
My eyes focused on his face.
“The only way you’re going to find him is through me.”
We barely ate our dinner.
When the bill came, I tossed a wad of cash on the table, and Bolton did the same. We probably overpaid by hundreds of euros, but we weren’t going to do the check dance. We left the table, and Astrid was the first one to the door, clearly desperate to get the fuck out of there.
She stepped out into the cold and immediately crossed her arms over herself to stay warm.
I stared at her, wanting to give her a jacket I didn’t have.
Bolton and I walked out next.
Astrid looked at the street, watching the cars go by to avoid looking at either of us.
The blacked-out SUV pulled up, and without waiting for Bolton to join her, she got into the back seat.
I stared at the window, picturing a face I couldn’t see.
“She’s the only reason you’re alive.”
I looked at Bolton.
His eyes were wide and maniacal, like a jester in a house of mirrors. “Because I don’t believe in second chances.”
I continued my stare.
“Come near my wife again, and your guardian angel won’t save you a second time.”