47. Kingsley
47
KINGSLEY
T here is a flicker of uncertainty in Tate’s eyes, but it’s only a flicker, which disappears just as quickly as it appears. I watch him as he looks at me thoughtfully, measuring his words carefully. He has something to say. A trump card. I see it even before he lays it on the table. Tate’s tell is the smarmy look he gets on his face. I have to be prepared for his worst, for a great gambler never gives away any emotion. I can’t allow anything he says to demoralize me.
“Dante Accardi and his mob might want me dead now. But they won’t when they hear what I have to offer them.”
Oh, the arrogance. Tate actually thinks he has something they want. I keep my expression neutral, giving nothing away, even as I tell him, “There’s nothing you have that they could possibly want.”
“Oh no?” He mocks me by giving me a faux innocent look. Obviously, he has something he thinks is gold. A get out of jail free card.
“You overestimate your worth,” I tell him.
“No, King. You underestimate your worth.”
“You’re delusional if you think they want me back. I mean nothing to them.”
“Hmmm… nothing? You think so little of yourself?”
Tate tsks and starts to circle me slowly, like a lion moving in on its prey. Dust motes rise and float in the air with the shuffle of his feet, polluting the room and causing me to cough. It buys me precious little time to collect my thoughts and gather my wits about me before he can shatter me with his bombshell. Which I know is imminent, because he’s literally jumping out of his skin with excitement. I school my features into a mask of boredom. Like I’ve had enough for the day and just want to move on. My poker face.
“What do you want, Tate?”
“What I want is for us to rule your father’s legacy together, side by side. In peace. What the Accardis want are the docks. The port that will give them free rein over the city’s waterways. The minute we give them the docks, they’re out of our hair for good.”
My world stops turning and I have to remember to breathe.
Breathe, Kingsley. Breathe. Breathe.
How could he possibly know that? Even I didn’t know that. What did he know that I didn’t?
I recover quickly enough to hide the crack that has forced its way into my heart. The docks. All this has been for the docks? Was this the reason I was taken? As a trade? For some real estate? That’s why Dante showed so much interest in me? So he could soften me up, maybe get me to agree instead of having to trade me for the docks and look like the asshole that he is? He had never really answered my question and told me why he’d been following me that day at the club. Or why he’d decided to save me from the Savages. Hell, I still didn’t even know what he had hoped to gain by kidnapping me from my own father’s funeral. Had it all been just an elaborate ploy to win my trust and gain access to the waterways? And if he had nothing to trade, did that mean he’d even bother to come and save me from Tate?
When endless moments pass without me saying anything, Tate speaks up, reiterating that everything would be smoothed over with the Accardis once we give them the docks. He has no idea he’s literally piercing my heart with the tip of a poisonous spear.
“Just like that? Accardi’s going to accept that you invaded his home, destroyed it, and killed his men… in exchange for a piece of real estate?”
All I can do is buy myself some time while my mind goes into overdrive. There has to be a way for me to save myself from this monster. Even if Dante did decide to look for me, there’s no way he’d be able to find me – how would he ever know my whereabouts when I hadn’t even known the existence of this place myself?
“Your father wouldn’t sell it to them. Even when they offered top dollar, and they’ve been trying for years. For the Accardis, having the docks would make their business model complete; it becomes a self-sufficient, multi billion dollar empire without any of them lifting a finger ever again.”
I can’t digest the shock I’m feeling, struggling to school my features. This can’t be happening. I can almost feel my heart bleeding out. Tate’s words cut through me without registering as I try my hardest to remain calm. I’m having serious trouble breathing. I look up towards a window raised high in the wall, caked with dirt and dust, barely letting in any light. The roller door is shut and we’re relying on artificial light to be able to even see in front of us. It’s so stuffy and claustrophobic in here, and I think I’m going to start hyperventilating. From what I’ve seen of the Accardis – their properties, their assets, even the sheer volume of employees on their payroll, they seem like they’re monied up. Could all of this – every event since that night at the club – have been all about money?
“Air,” I gasp. “Tate, I need air.”
He fixes me with a curious look, like I’m a mystery that needs to be solved, before he turns away and walks toward a wall. He presses a button and there is a mechanical whir; light seeps into the hangar, and he presses the button again, which gives us only fifteen inches or so of open space in which air wafts into the dusty facility.
“Is that better?” he asks, his look now one of concern. I hope he feels guilty for sucking the air out of my life.
I nod, contrite, realizing that he now feels sorry for me. I wonder if I can somehow play on his emotions now to win him over. After what he’s just told me about the Accardis, I doubt Dante is going to come riding in on a white horse to save me. And the only way for me to get out of this situation now may be to shake hands with the devil himself. Make him think I’m on board, and once we’re out of here, find a way to dispose of him. I am under no illusion that Tate is now a liability to me. But he is the one now in control; if I am to reverse that situation, I have to think smart and act hard.