CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SAINT
It’s been two days.
Two days since the incident in my father’s office. Two days since Adanna and I had decided that marriage wasn’t anywhere in our future. At least for her, not me. Sooner or later, all the tactics I have used to evade this duty would catch up with me.
His words still lodge on my chest like a fresh wound.
Whatever my father wants, he gets.
It’s not the first time he’s abused that power.
Not the first time he’s made me do things I don’t want to do.
What’s worse is that Mason didn’t check in for work for two days. No phone calls. No emails requesting a day off. And I was worried, but I didn’t text even though I’ve been tempted to. Maybe he’d decided that working eight hours at a finance company wasn’t something he wanted to do in the meantime.
Yet my eyes hover over my phone screen where his phone number appears.
I don’t want to entertain the idea of reaching out to him.
I have far more important things to worry about than someone who works in my company, someone I used to fuck.
Like tonight, I was meeting James’ other guy, Shaun, and he had a lot of explaining to do.
Cross had also investigated him and found information we could use against him. He had also sent me pictures of the man who killed the boys who set our warehouse on fire. And if everything goes right, I’ll have my answers before the end of the night.
My brother’s photo ID appears on my screen, and I take his call. “I just arrived at the Sovereign.” Bernard slows the car in the parking lot.
“I’m waiting in the alley. I’ll flank the motherfucker if he tries to escape.” He says.
“Alright.”
The car engine dies, and I hop off, casually strolling through the labyrinth of parked cars to the entrance of the establishment.
The tall glass doors framed in black steel reveal a long room paneled in dark walnut, with low amber light setting the space in a glow.
Beneath the soft lighting, the floor stretches out in polished black marble veined with silver.
Around me, deep leather armchairs cluster around low tables, and curved velvet booths line the walls.
I walk toward the sweeping bar carved from a single slab of stone. Behind it, floor-to-ceiling shelves display rare whiskey, cognac, and aged scotch in precise rows. Two men in white outfits stand at the workstation.
Oliver sits in the end booth with the man he set up the meeting with. I pull off my jacket and sit on the tall leather barstool that lines the counter. The young man bobs his hand with a smile as he asks, “What would you like, sir?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” A familiar voice cuts through the air as a tall, good-looking, young man with light brown skin, black hair, and brown eyes walks into the workstation, dressed in a black tailored suit.
It’s my cousin, Syn. My father’s late brother adopted the twenty-nine-year-old when he was eleven.
He inherited half of the city after my uncle’s death as the mafia underboss of Black Viper Syndicate.
Every business related to his father’s half of the empire answers to him.
He runs it ruthlessly. Painstakingly. Just like his father.
“It’s nice to see you here, cousin.”
“Hello, Syn.” I smile. “When were you going to send me a wedding invitation?”
“I didn’t think you’d honor our invitation. You’re Tobias’s son.” He sets down an empty glass and fills it with scotch.
“But I’m not Tobias.”
He chuckles. “Don’t worry, you’ll get an invite.” He slides the glass to me. “What brings you to my territory, Saint?”
“I have a debt to collect.” I smile and wrap my fingers around the glass, taking a swift sip.
It doesn’t take long, and glasses crash against the floor. My head snaps toward the commotion, and the man’s eyes widen in raw horror when he sees me. He doesn’t waste a second. He lunges toward the door only to crash into Virgil, who appears out of nowhere.
“Don’t kill him on my property,” Syn whispers whilst I finish up my drink.
I leave his words unanswered as I head out to the exit. Virgil drags the culprit into the dark alley, and I follow suit. As I stalk into the sharp corner, my gaze drops to the teary-eyed man, looking up at Virgil with trembling hands.
“There’s our guy,” Virgil whispers.
“You know why you are here,” I whisper, voice low, barely a vibration.
Virgil drags him and shoves him against the wall.
His furious gaze cut like a blade, and his clenched fists wrapped around the quivering man’s collar.
“I’m going to ask you one question, and I need the answer.
” I move in front of him as Virgil steps aside.
“Now, all you have to do is tell me the truth. A simple yes or no would suffice.”
He nods, breathing raggedly as he stills and waits. “What did you take from me?”
“Nothing! I swear. I’m not lying.” His hands shake violently, grasping at nothing, his heart racing.
My fist collides against his jaw, and blood spills from his lips as he crumbles to the ground. I crouch in front of him, forearms braced on his thighs, face level and uncomfortably close.
“You ran with my cargo,” I say softly. He shakes his head, breathing hard, eyes wide as if he’s going into a panic attack. I sigh exasperatedly as I rise in one swift motion. I unclip a blade from my belt.
He stiffens.
“If I wanted to hurt you, I’d slit your throat,” I whisper. “Now tell me, did you or did you not meet up with my soldiers a week ago to steal from my shipment?” I hope I don’t have to use this blade. If I do, I will peel off his face and scar him beyond recognition.
“Yes, yes.” The answer spills. “But it was only a… a one-time deal. We… we steal the… coke and… and sell it in the market to raise some money. I promise it was only once. It’s not going to happen again.” His words stumble out in jagged bursts, half-formed and catching in his throat.
“Lies.” Virgil chuckles and crosses his arms.
“I’m not lying,” he grits. “I’m telling the truth.” He drowns in his own panic, shoulders jerking with each stammered word.
“Tell me who sent you.” My voice is lethal.
“No, I’m telling the truth. I just wanted more cash. Nothing more.”
“Tell me who sent you, fucker.” I growl.
I ball up my fist. My knuckles bite into his flesh, sending a shock through my arm and into his jaw. Virgil pulls him up and slams him against the wall. “I believe you have a family. You have five seconds to speak, or I will find them and tie you down to a chair and torture them while you watch.”
“Please don’t hurt my little girl.”
“Then give me what I need.”
“His name is Neo. I swear I have never seen him before. I’m not sure he’s from here. I don’t know. I don’t know,” he splutters, shaking. My brows narrow. “Please don’t hurt my little girl.”
I reach into my jacket and pull out a picture, holding it in front of his face.
“Yes, that’s him.”
“You are going to do something for me, Shaun, or else my promise still stands.”
He inhales sharply, struggling to steady his breath. “What?”
“Good question.”
“You will lure this Neo into my cage.”
“Yes. Anything you want,” his head moves swiftly, bobbing as fear settles in his eyes. I pat his back and shove him forward.
“We are just going to let him go?” Virgil asks, watching as the man staggers down the alley.
“We still have information on his family. Humans are fucking predictable. He’ll get me what I want.” I explain and straighten my jacket.
“You are getting soft on the job, Saint.”
My blood runs cold, jaw flexing as I turn on my heels and meet his gaze. I won’t let my brother berate me the same way my father does. “And how would you know, Virgil? You were trained to be a fucking Knight, not a King. Know your place.”
He stands there, too shocked to speak. I huff a breath and look at him. “Either stand here or come with me to get drinks at the Red Horn Club.”
“There’s a bar right here.”
“Suit yourself.” I shrug and walk back to my car. “I’m driving myself tonight. Get home with Virgil.”
“Yes, sir.” Bernard hands me the keys and strolls away.
It doesn’t take long, and I arrive at the Red Horn Club.
I head into the building, straight to the suite I paid for my sexual proclivities.
The door clicks open into the familiar room.
All grey walls, low amber light, and a view of the city from the transparent windows.
But even with the familiarity, something’s missing. Someone’s missing.
I don’t do feelings.
I hate them.
But Mason’s taken control of my thoughts and refuses to let go.
Maybe what it would take to get rid of him is finding someone else to replace him.
I sit on the bed and look for Madame’s number, hand hovering over the screen. But I don’t call her. For some reason, I can’t. A frustrated sigh escapes my lips, and I get on my feet and pace around the floor.
He hasn’t been to work in two days.
I haven’t seen him in two days.
I have not breathed his scent for two fucking days.
I can’t sit here and sulk through the night. I need to get him off my mind by any means possible, even if it means spending the night here and getting drunk in a private booth at the strip club.
I leave the suite, and the elevator takes me to the floor beneath the suite.
As the doors open, I step into the hall, lit in deep hues of purple.
I move through the security, and they smile at me before they lead me toward the spiral staircase that opens into the VIP booth.
A few people are occupying the space. Several women sit on the men’s laps as they vibe to the music and drink from their expensive bottles of champagne.
“Find somewhere else to sit.” I declare over the music.
The group doesn’t argue; instead, they pick up their things and file down the stairs. “Staff will be with you shortly.” I settle into the black leather cushion and watch as the club comes to life on the floor beneath me.
But even my focus isn’t enough to drown out my thoughts and worries.
Duties. Duties. Duties.
That’s all I have ever done.
Not lived for myself, but for the family. Followed everything my parents had taught me. Kept enemies at arm’s length and friends a bit close. But it’s beginning to prove insufficient.
A young woman in a purple microkini and six-inch heels appears from the stairs and sets a bottle of red wine and a glass on the round table.
“Thank you,” I mutter under my breath.
“Is there anything else you want, sir?” She asks seductively, hands running over her skin.
“No, everything’s good here. You can leave.”
“Alright.” She turns on her heels and struts away.
The night starts young when I open the bottle and fill my glass with wine.
By the time I’m halfway through the bottle, I’m leaning over the balcony, watching the women dance on the platform.
That’s where I spot a familiar person in the crowd.
He’s pushing through the bodies, face set in a mix of anger and fear.
It looks like he’s heading toward the elevator.
It’s Mason.
My heart flutters with warmth, but I shut it down only for it to become a failed attempt.
That’s when I spot some other guy following him. Is that Kurt? What the fuck is he doing here? If firing him from the office didn’t make him understand that Mason was off-limits, then maybe I have to teach him a lesson.
I finish my last glass of red wine, then I head downstairs, walking past security to the elevator.
I step out into the cool night breeze outside the building and hear arguing voices in the dark corner of the building.
I move toward the source, but I stop at the turn.
Kurt has Mason’s backed against the wall.
“You’ll pay for this. I lost my job because of you. ”
“And you followed me here so I can do what? Get it back for you? You lost your job because you’re incompetent and unprofessional.” Mason spits back. Kurt groans and grabs him, shoving him against the wall.
The muscles in my jaw jump once before I go unnaturally still. My fingers clench at my side as unbearable rage surges through my veins.
He put his hand on him.
How fucking dare he?
He’ll pay for this.
I won’t wait a day or even hours. He’ll pay for this now.
Before I can step out of the shadows, Mason grunts and shoves him back, and the weakling falls on his ass, shock appearing on his face as he watches Mason.
“If you ever come back here again…” He doesn’t finish the threat.
I have never seen this part of Mason before. But honestly I’m not surprised. I like it. It’s different. More dangerous. More lethal.
He turns and heads down the alley, boots scuffing against the uneven asphalt as he circles the building back to the entrance.
Kurt gets back on his feet, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I’ll kill him.” He whispers to himself and paces in the darkness.
He’s unaware that I’m stalking closer. “And fuck that faggot too. Thinks he can fire me. I’m good at what I do.
He can’t just toss me away because of a personal assistant.
” He breathes through his word, facing the path Mason had disappeared into.
That’s when I jump him. My firm hand circles around his nose and presses in while the other hand clenches down on his throat.
He struggles, trying to break free from my hold.
I drag him to the wall and shove him against the rough surface, and he drops to the ground. losing consciousness.