Chapter 23
Mario’s
Place is lit up like a chandelier house. As the crew and I step out of the bathroom and into the main dining area, I’m met with a crowd of servers bustling around, trays full of food in hand, their expressions sullen, and their footsteps hurried.
The warm lights in the restaurant complement the wooden interior, and the classic Italian music playing in the background really helps set the mood.
But the air in here screams money in the most straightforward way possible – which, I guess, is exactly what the owner had in mind for this place while creating it.
As the four of us walk between the tables, I catch the eyes of a few elites who’ve hired me in the past. Their gazes meet mine, but they immediately look away and squirm in their seats as if maintaining eye-contact with me will make me wanna spill all of their sadistic little secrets out loud for those who’ll listen.
It’s baffling how they think they matter to me, when all I care about when I take up a kill is the act itself, and the fuck load of cash that comes along with it.
I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about these uptight motherfuckers, and unless they’ve messed with me or the people I’m close to, I prefer to stay as far away from them as I possibly can.
Speaking of keeping a distance…
I wish I could distance myself from the nauseating smell of flowers that’s wafting off of me right now. Out of the various types of soaps available in the market to choose from, the people in charge of toiletries at Mario’s
Place picked the one that smells like a fucking funeral bouquet.
And they use the words “lavishly elegant” to describe their services.
Lavish, my ass.
“Four o’clock,” Jayce whispers in my ear.
I blink and look to my right, and find a waiter serving Miranda her meal.
Tenderloin Steak and a glass of sparkling red wine.
Some of the diners give me and the crew judgmental once-overs, clearly thrown off by our choice of clothing.
I mean, with Jayce in a flannel, Alex in a letterman hoodie, Varsha in her signature denim, and me wearing a slim-fit vest, we belong in McDonald’s or a burger joint, not in a sophisticated restaurant.
But then again, if we start giving a fuck about what these people think, then the world will come to an end.
And so, I ignore their visual inspections and lead the crew over to Miranda’s table.
The waiter has left, and she’s about to commence her meal in expected bliss, but stops short when she sees me.
“Miss Adler,” I address her with a casual smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Jayce, Alex, and Varsha occupy the table opposite Miranda’s, while I slide into the chair that’s directly in front of her.
She lifts her chin and assesses me, then slowly raises a well-trimmed brow at me.
“What do you want, Ledger?” she questions, and her eyes crease near the corners when she narrows them.
“If it’s not something that requires my immediate attention, then I’ll ask that you wait outside while I finish up here. ”
Arrogant bitch.
Her jewelry glints against the surrounding lights, and as she waits for me to speak, I notice that there’s a stiffness in her posture, like she’s on edge and eager to know why I’ve disturbed her.
I’m rattling her right now, but she’s too stubborn to let it show.
I lean back in my chair and stretch my legs out against the table.
“Believe me, Miranda, it is urgent,” I tell her.
She notices how I address her, and she doesn’t like it.
“Did my brother send you?” she asks. “You should have gotten in touch with my bodyguard first, and then made yourself so…frank in my presence.”
“Hmm.” I cant my head a little. “My bad.”
She’s physically bothered by me, and I know that it’s absolutely killing her to see me so calm.
I glance at Jayce. He taps a finger on his watch, silently asking me to hurry. He knows that if Miranda decides to call security, or worse – her brother, then me and the crew will get into a tight position. I have to be brief, and I have to make sure she understands what I have to say to her.
Miranda places her forearms on the table and gives me an annoyed look. “I’m running out of patience, Ledger,” she tells me. “If it’s money you want, you’ll have to go to Chase, because I’m not at the–”
“Cignette,” I voice the name with enough conviction that she stops talking and stares at me with a horrified expression on her face.
“My daughter sent you?” she inquires, and there’s a tremor in her voice that’s just so satisfying to listen to.
“Look, I can pay you ten times more than what she has,” Miranda says with an urgency. “You don’t have to go through with this, Ledger; you owe me and my brother your continued freedom, your–”
“Hold up,” I stop her. Then, because I really can’t keep it in, I start laughing. “You think Cignette hired me to kill you? Is that why you think I’m here right now?” I laugh some more, and my crew joins in on it.
And here I thought that the woman who literally created an entire fashion empire from the ground up would at least have a fragment of commonsense. But nope, these elites continue to disappoint me. I guess I should just stop expecting much of anything from them.
If Miranda thinks her daughter can contract her murder, then she probably knows she went too far with Cignette this time. She realizes she overdid it, and that fact is settled somewhere inside her.
She looks utterly ghastly and dumbfounded as she glances between me and the others. “Then why are you…” She swallows. “If not to…W–”
I bang a fist against the table so loudly, that it not only clatters the items on it and makes Miranda jump in her seat, but also terrifies the nearby patrons and servers.
“I’m here, you senseless bitch,” I say between gritted teeth, earning a glare from her, “to warn you – to make sure you hear me nice and proper when I tell you to stay the fuck away from Cignette.” I lean in.
“Your daughter is under my protection now, and if I find out that you’ve dared to touch her again, or hurt her like you did yesterday, then things won’t end well for you. That’s a promise.”
“How
dare
you?” she hisses, having finally regained herself from the initial shock. “How dare you threaten me, or even think that it’s appropriate for you to interfere in my personal matters?”
“Abusing your daughter isn’t a personal matter, Miranda; it’s a fucking crime.”
“You are in no position to–”
“Just because your brother has kept my crew and I’s personal information out of the criminal database, doesn’t mean you get to treat us like we’re beneath you.
” I arch a brow at her. “Because trust me, we’re not.
We’ve more than shown our gratitude to you and Chase by eliminating your rivals and competitors at your request, so the least you can do is treat us,” I jerk my head towards Jayce and the others, “with some respect.”
Miranda’s chest rises and falls at an erratic rhythm as she continues to glare it me. “Stop it,” she spits the words, then glances around in panic. “Just fucking stop.”
“Don’t want the people to find out the kind of person you really are, do you?” I taunt. “Then do as you’re told, or I’ll make every single moment of your life a fresh kind of hell you’ll want nothing more than to escape from.”
She seethes at me and curls her shaky hands into fists. “What did she have to do to persuade you into doing this?” she asks. “Did she spread her legs for you, or suck your cock in some shit-stained alley?”
I clench my jaw and stifle the urge to drive my switchblade into her eye. “You’d really like to know, wouldn’t you?” I manage to keep my voice stable, because fuck if I’ll give her the pleasure of knowing that she’s hit a nerve.
Alex looks my way, so I nod subtly to let him know that I’m good.
“To bring a man such as yourself to the other side of the spectrum must have taken quite a lot,” Miranda pushes, and a sinister smirk takes over her face.
She isn’t giving up, which is good. I would have been so disappointed if she hadn’t even tried.
It means that I get to play one last hand before I can finally claim my victory.
“Cignette sure has what it takes to keep a man rooted in place,” I say, then grin darkly.
“She’s the adrenaline that’s coursing through my veins.
The very reason I’m here right now.” I click my tongue.
“Not that you’d know anything about that.
Because if you did, then you wouldn’t have to rely on a different man every other week for your desires and thirst for companionship, and instead, would still have your daughter’s father in your life. ”
She sucks in a breath at my words, and looks at me like I’ve just slapped her or something.
“Fu–”
“Uh-uh-uh.” I shake my head at her. “Cursing out loud in public? Miss Adler, what would the people say?”
“And what would Christopher say when I tell him that his minions are here to harass me?” she counters.
I place an elbow on the back of my chair and gesture at her purse on the table. “Go ahead; do it,” I say to her. “Call Solo right now and tell him everything.” He’ll probably have my balls for what I’ve done tonight, but he’ll back me up anyway, I’m sure of that.
Miranda hesitates, and her temporary bravado dwindles.
I smile triumphantly and get to my feet, and my crew follows suit. Looking down at Cignette’s mother, I decide to repeat myself in case she hasn’t fully grasped onto the meaning behind my being here.
“Stay away from Cignette,” I advise. “Do not even think about touching her again. And, if you try to outsmart me, or tell anyone about our meeting and conversation, then you’ll find yourself dolled up in a coffin – six fucking feet under, and very, very dead.
I hope I’m clearly understood.” I remember the thing I’ve been carrying in my pocket since I left the alley, and decide to pull it out before throwing it on the table – right in front of Miranda.
She half-screams, half-cries, then covers her nose and mouth with her hands as she stares at Steven’s tongue staining the otherwise white tablecloth red.
“Also, your bodyguard spoke too much,” I say. “So, make sure the next one you pick doesn’t have the same habit. It’s not very flattering or tolerable, especially during work hours.”
Leaving her twice as horrified as a few minutes ago, I turn around and walk away, with my crew right behind me.
Mission accomplished.