Chapter 4 Donovan
FOUR
Donovan
“You look like shit,” Torrin tells me, and unlike other the times he’s said this to me, usually after a night of too much drinking, he doesn’t sound amused. There’s not a single trace of humor in his voice. Which means, I probably look like I’m knocking on Death’s door.
“I’m fine,” I grunt. Even breathing in to say those words hurts. I won’t let it show, though.
He stares at me. The blank look bores into me and nearly has me rolling my eyes. I would, but I’m afraid it will hurt.
“This would be a good time to kill me and take the crown,” I tell him as I sag back into the chair.
The soft leather cradles my body, but it brings me none of the comfort it usually does.
Instead, my skin feels like a million little needles are pricking me.
It’s more annoying than anything, but I’m worried as to why I’m feeling this way.
“Hmm,” he hums as he takes the seat across from me. “Just the thing I’ve been waiting for.”
I glare at him as he smirks back at me.
“How do I put this nicely?” He pauses just to raise a brow for dramatic effect. I glare harder to show him how little this amuses me. “I don’t want your fucking crown. Too much drama.”
“And where did you spend your night after the party?” I ask him, tone knowing.
“Between Mrs. Hall and her newest boy toy. It was quite a long night.” He gets lost in the memory of it, I’m sure, because there is a drunken smile on his face. And just like that, he wipes it away, his eyes now focused on me. “Even still, I look better than you.”
“And where was Mr. Hall?” I ask, ignoring the last part.
“Probably upstairs,” he replies with a shrug. “He did have quite a bit to drink at the party, so I wasn’t worried if he happened to be home.”
“What was it you were saying about too much drama?” It would have been a nightmare for Torrin if Mr. Hall knew what his wife was up to.
Mr. Hall is known for ruining people who cross him.
He doesn’t have the power to touch me, so I’m not afraid of him, but I keep him in my pocket and on my better side simply because I don’t want the headache.
Torrin’s chuckle pounds through my head like a hammer. I wince and he doesn’t miss it.
“Did you drink after you got home?” He sounds truly concerned now.
“No,” I grunt. Surprisingly, I went to bed after he dropped me off, but I’m not telling him that. It makes me sound lame. “It’s nothing. It’ll pass.”
I hope to fuck it does.
“Great. So what do you need me to do?”
Work talk, I can handle that. His worry and pity, I cannot. He’s my closest confidant, and dare I say, my lifelong friend, but I have to draw the line at that emotional shit. Especially if it’s because he sees me as weak. Fuck that. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.
What the fuck was I going to do today? I know I had a whole list in my head, but I’ll be damned if I can remember it.
I’m not entirely sure I didn’t drink last night. It wouldn’t take much to convince me that I got up at three in the morning, sleepwalked my way into my office, and poured a healthy gulp or two of bourbon. Hell, maybe I should have a drink right now.
I stare at Torrin. He’s way too chipper for my health today. Getting laid looks good on him. Shame it didn’t have the same effect on me this time.
“Casino grab,” I tell him. “Lock Street Deli is behind on payments.” That’s all I can remember at the moment. My head is stuffed with cotton, and as I reach for my notes, I realize my eyes are burning too.
“You want to take the day off?”
“No,” I snap, then shoot him a half-looking apology with my eyes. “No. I just need some coffee, then I’ll be good.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, fucker.”
“Okay,” he says, and it sounds like he’s letting it go. Knowing my luck, he’s going to keep a close eye on me for the next day or two. “I’ll go handle the casino while you,” he looks me up and down, “take a shower and sort yourself out. Then I’ll meet you at the deli. I could go for a turkey club.”
Hours later, I’ve decided the deli will have to wait.
Nearly everything is going to have to wait.
I’ve sent Carlo out to handle a few things, confident that he doesn’t need to talk to get my point across.
If his stern expression won’t make the message obvious, his massive muscles will.
He’s the one who picks up the slack when Torrin and I need it.
Other than that, he’s extra muscle when a shakedown needs to happen.
Scary looking fucker, and I’m not just saying that because he has skulls tattooed on his throat.
Torrin is back at the house after having taken care of the casino’s money and sorting it out properly. I wish I had numbers in front of me, but only because I’m a controlling bastard and like to keep on top of my shit.
“You’re sweating,” Torrin tells me as he pushes me back onto the sofa in my office. I don’t even attempt to fight him. He makes himself a drink, and I don’t miss the concerned pinch of his brow as he gulps it back while keeping his eyes on me.
“Yes, well, it’s fucking hot in here.” Even as I say this, I can see the curtains dancing wildly as the breeze flows into the open windows. I can feel the cool air hitting my skin. I’m being a fucking idiot and I know it.
Torrin doesn’t snort at my stupid attitude. He doesn’t roll his eyes at me. In fact, the look he’s giving me is very concerning. It’s bordering on pity, and he fucking knows better.
This has me very worried. I must look worse than I imagined.
I try to wave him away. My hand feels numb and heavy.
I start to work the buttons of my shirt, needing more cool air on my skin.
He watches me fumble for a long minute, and when he starts coming at me like he’s going to help me, I grab the two sides of the shirt and rip it open.
Buttons go flying, landing on the polished wood floor with little pings.
One hits him in the stomach, and he stares down at the spot for a moment before lifting his gaze to me, brow raised in amusement.
There, that is better. Not only the air on my skin but also I got the fucking look of worry off his face.
Or so I thought.
That damn look takes over his expression as his eyes move to my bare chest. His brows pinch, and his mouth parts like he’s going to say something, only the words don’t come out. He’s seen me naked before, so it’s not like my upper male nudity is making him all horned up. It’s something else.
I tilt my head and look down at my chest.
Well, shit.
That can’t be good.
My eyes try to make out the shape or pattern or symbol. I have no clue what it is. Looking at it upside down probably isn’t helping. I know enough to know it’s not something normal that happens like a rash or allergic reaction.
This is shit I don’t mess with. I know it’s out there, in a loose sense, but I always push it to the back of my mind. While I wouldn’t say it scares me, it’s not my world and I’d rather not have any part of it.
My heart speeds up. The dark lines under my skin are pulsing. Or maybe that’s just my vision getting cloudy. I’m lightheaded, too.
“Donovan!” Torrin snaps my name, and I jerk upright. It takes all my energy to pull in a calming breath. My heart is still galloping like a horse in a race, but everything else seems to clear. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” I roar. I might be slightly panicking. “How would I know what I did if I did something? Torrin…”
I look at him as if he holds the answer. He’s closer to magic than I am. He’s my only hope right now.
“I have no idea, Boss.”
“Have I been poisoned?” Maybe fuckface Aubert has found a way to poison me. A very slow way. It’s his plan to draw it out and watch me suffer while he laughs at me from inside his ridiculous mansion.
Torrin thinks twice about what he’s going to say, leaving his mouth hanging open as his eyes fucking grimace at me.
“I gotta make a call. Don’t move.”
He darts out of the room before I can say anything.
I must close my eyes and fall asleep, because the next thing I know, I’m snapping alert as the door opens.
Torrin steps in. A shorter man follows behind him.
Torrin’s cousin, Fabien. I’d recognize that face anywhere.
Kid had been quiet growing up, always with his nose in a book.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and I’m surprised at how he’s grown.
He stands tall now, not a kid anymore, and his hair isn’t shaggy, hanging in his face as if he’s using it to hide behind like a curtain.
“Oh, um, Mr. Falco.” Fabien goes red from his neck to the tips of his ears.
He cuts a look at Torrin as if scolding his cousin for not warning him about the state I’m in.
Torrin chuckles and walks over to the desk.
He leans his ass against the sturdy wood and holds out a hand, telling his cousin to get to it without words.
Fabien turns his attention back to me as he approaches. “Do you mind if I…”
“Do what you need to do,” I tell him, letting my head fall back as my lids close.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. How have you been, Fabien?
” I try to make small talk because he seems so nervous around me.
I don’t like it. We weren’t close growing up, but he hung out with Torrin and me often enough that I felt the need to look after him back then.
The distance started when I was thrown into this world full-time.
Fabien is sweet and innocent, or at least he had been back then.
Torrin and I agreed to keep him far away from the things we did.
“This is…” he whispers. There’s something in his voice that makes me want to open my eyes. “I’m not… I don’t think…” He clears his throat and tries again. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I think it’s a curse.”
Now my eyes are open and I stare at him like he’s lost his damn mind.
He swallows thickly, eyes wide as he pulls out a sketchbook from the satchel hanging across his body.