Chapter Twenty-One #3
Some of the color drains from Elise’s face.
She opens and closes her mouth several times then straightens her back. “What do you want?”
“I have to admit, I was impressed that you’ve managed to keep it hidden,” I continue, in the same even tone of voice. “Your father might be willing to forgive you. Your allies, on the other hand…it would be a shame if the information fell into the wrong hands.”
Elise goes as still as a statue.
“I’ve heard stories about what they do to traitors in your family. I might even make it a point to swing by to see for myself.”
“You son of a bitch. I can’t believe you were having me looked into this whole time. I thought we had an understanding.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “I make it a point to have the people I do business with looked into. It’s common practice in our world. It’s not my fault your father didn’t bother to teach you.”
Elise says something under her breath and clenches her hands together.
“For now, you’re going to make sure your father’s allies don’t retaliate,” I reply, before reaching for my drink again. “If you don’t, I might start sending body parts. I’d say he doesn’t need all his fingers.”
Elise pales further. “How far do you think you’re going to take this? My father’s allies won’t stay quiet for long.”
I tilt the glass in her direction and smile. “That’s where you come in. I think a little hands on experience will be good for you.”
Elise mutters something under her breath.
I finish my drink and straighten my back again. “Perhaps a little demonstration is in order for you to—”
“No,” Elise says, a little louder than intended. She swallows and blows out a breath. “I’ll do what I can, but you know this isn’t how things work in our world.”
I set the empty glass down and pick up the phone on my desk. “It is a pity we couldn’t keep being on the same side. I have a feeling you’re going to grow into quite the leader.”
Elise shoots me a withering look and says nothing.
Moments later, one of Carlisle’s men comes in, dragging a sweaty looking Thatcher in tow.
He blinks, and as soon as he sees Elise, his shoulders heave, and a sob falls from his lips.
Elise steps forward and catches him before he falls to the floor.
She holds him to her and says something into his ear.
A moment later, my man steps forward and yanks Thatcher backward.
Elise’s expression is tight when she twists to face me. “How do I know you’re not going to throw him in a basement somewhere to starve? And don’t tell me to take your word for it. We both know it won’t work this time.”
My smile grows wider. “Fair enough. What kind of proof do you want?”
“Three phone calls a day.”
“Once a day, and he’ll be monitored the whole time. If I find out either of you are trying to fuck with me, you’ll never find his body.”
Elise looks back at her father and hangs her head.
Slowly, she nods and looks back at me. “Fine.”
I offer my man a nod, and he begins to drag Thatcher away. The man snivels and whimpers as he calls out for his daughter while disgust and frustration build within me.
Pathetic coward.
I have no idea how he wound up being the head of his family, nor do I care.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s one less problem to deal with.
“When I’m satisfied your father has played no part in the attack, he’ll be released,” I tell Elise, after a lengthy pause. “As for the information I have….well, as long as your family doesn’t ally itself with our enemies, I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”
Elise licks her lips and takes a step in the direction of the door. “What about our arrangement?”
“Your men will continue to do our bidding. As for the engagement, I’ll leave you to deal with the press. I’m sure you’ll figure something out. Make yourself into the victim for all I care.”
Elise stares at me for a while longer.
I sit down. “I trust you can see yourself out.”
She straightens her back, and a moment later throws the door open and storms out of the study.
I don’t hate Elise for her father’s cowardice, but I know it would make things easier.
Without warning, I rise to my feet. I throw Elise’s glass against the nearest wall and don’t react when a piece nicks my knuckles.
When I throw another glass against the window, it drowns out some of the roaring in my ears.
For a while, I stand in the middle of the debris, blood dripping from my hands, and a loud pounding in my chest.
I don’t realize London is there until she curls herself against my back.
The warm and inviting smell of her, strawberries and vanilla, brings me back to the present.
I can’t afford to wallow in anger when we’ve lost our biggest ally.
Even if Thatcher is innocent, keeping him here and threatening Elise into submission has burned the bridge between us.
I turn toward London and hug her against me. She melts, and I bury my face in her hair. Then, I hoist her up and carry her over to the desk. I set her down, push her legs apart, and nestle between them. London runs her fingers down my back and stops.
I grab the back of her neck and wait for her to look at me. “You’re still here.”
London’s eyes widen. “Yes.”
“You shouldn’t be,” I murmur. “This won’t get any easier. You’ll just get better at shutting it out.”
London angles her head and says nothing.
I cover her mouth with mine and growl.
She tastes like hope and possibilities, everything I’ve spent my life running from.
I want to drown myself in her and forget about the world outside.
Even when a small voice in the back of my mind warns me that we can’t.
When London moves her fingers to my hair, I wrench my lips away. Then, I step out of her embrace and leave a few inches of space between us. London’s face is flushed. She pats down her hair and stares at me through hooded eyes.
“I’ll be up later.”
London lowers herself to the ground and picks her way through the debris from the broken glasses. “What can I do to help?”
“You’re already doing it.” I squeeze her hand on her way past. Then, I cross the room and open the door.
Carlisle is on the other side, and he glares at London, who doesn’t look fazed as he leads her back upstairs.
Once they’re out of earshot, I shut the door to the study and go off in search of Katia.
She’s in the East wing of the house, which only a handful of people are allowed in.
Noah is tied to a chair in the middle of the basement, with a single light bulb hanging over his head, and the smell of sweat and something else in the air.
Katia sees me, and we exchange a quick look.
I pause to roll my sleeves to my elbows and study Noah, who is holding himself erect and ignoring the dried blood on the side of his face.
“She’s never going to forget this, you know.”
I stop in front of Noah and tilt my head. “I don’t expect her to forget.”
“You’re only making things worse,” he says.
I reach for one of Katia’s knives and run it along the side of his face. “London might not forget what I have to do, but she will forgive me because she knows it’s necessary.”
Noah’s expression is incredulous. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
I stop at the base of his throat, over his bobbing Adam’s apple. “Why the sudden interest in what I do or don’t do?”
Is he finally understanding who he’s messing with?
Noah shrugs and looks away. “I don’t give a shit, but you know London will. She might have… feelings for you right now, but all the money and power in the world won’t change what you are.”
I dig the knife into his skin and wait for him to flinch. “You’re awfully confident for someone who is at my mercy. Tell me, Noah. Do you honestly believe this will win her back?”
His expression darkens.
“Did you think you could take me down and win her back? That I would be a footnote in your story?”
Noah presses his mouth into an angry line.
I chuckle. “I’ve dealt with men like you before, Noah. Do you know what you all have in common? You don’t have what it takes. That’s why London chose me. It doesn’t matter what you do or what you try to take, she will never go back to you.”
I hand Katia the knife and lean back to look at him. “You had her, and you fucked it up. How does it feel to know that you’re the footnote?”
Noah pulls his lips back and glares at me with hatred in his eyes. “Fuck you.”
I bark out a laugh and shoot Katia an amused look. “I think I hit a nerve.”
“She will never accept who you are.” Noah’s voice climbs higher with each word. “You’re delusional if you think this ends any other way.”
My expression hardens. “I’ll just have to make sure it does, won’t I? Either way, I doubt you’ll be around to see it.”
Some of the color drains from Noah’s face, and his shoulders sag. “You won’t hurt me. London will never forgive—”
“She already knows I have you,” I interrupt coyly. “She might have begged for your life, but she knows you betrayed her. And she didn’t try to stop me from questioning you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I scoff and punch him in the stomach, and he wheezes out a breath. “I don’t give a shit.”
I land another blow to his stomach, and he coughs.
Then I circle him, watching as beads of sweat form on his forehead and slide down his face.
When I press myself against his back and yank back his head, he sucks in a breath, and I can almost taste his fear.
I release him and move back to the front, eyeing him with thinly veiled disgust.
Noah is barely holding himself together, and I know the anticipation is killing him.
It’s my most effective form of torture.
Let the bastard wonder what I’m going to do next.
I know I can’t push him past a certain point, but I can at least enjoy watching him squirm.
He will pay for every bit of pain he’s inflicted on London.