“Look, now you’re getting fucking angry. When you know all I’m speaking are the facts.”
The front door opens and Roberto walks in.
“You know where she is?” Roberto asks me.
“Sailor?” I ask.
He nods.
“Yes, I checked on her like you said but didn’t see any sign of her.”
I left her hours ago.
“The doorman said she left and hasn’t returned.” Roberto takes a seat, glances at the television, and shakes his head.
Grabbing my phone, I press her name to call her.
“You aren’t marrying this woman. She’s a fuck, remember? Leave her,” Joey interjects, and Roberto’s eyes go wide at his words. But Joey doesn’t look my way, just throws some candy into his mouth and resumes the movie.
“She’s probably at work,” Roberto says, trying to ease the tension in the room.
“No, it’s her day off.” Phillip moves from his spot by the kitchen door.
Pressing call, it goes straight to voicemail.
“See, she probably blocked your calls,” Joey chimes in again.
“Sir ...” I wave Phillip off, but he remains in front of me. “Sir,” he says more forcefully.
“What is it, Phillip?” I took Phillip in over two years ago at Paige’s request. She didn’t want her younger brother to turn out like her older one, so she asked that I take him under my wing. I pay for his schooling, and in return, he helps when needed.
I like Phillip, more than I like anyone else in that family. He’s a good kid. Though, I guess he’s an adult now and studying accounting at school. In his off time, he’s either studying at my house or helping me. I’ve told him he doesn’t need to do as much, but he insists.
“I’ve seen Sailor today, sir.”
His words surprise me.
How on earth has he seen her?
“I never asked you to send anything to her today.”
“No, Paige requested today.”
“Oh, shit.” Joey turns the television off completely and turns to listen.
“She was mumbling shit at the party. You think she really went ahead and did something?” Roberto asks.
We all look to Phillip.
“Frank, Momma, and the others are with her as well.”
My blood boils.
Red hot.
Nuclear.
That fucking bitch.
Who the fuck does she think she is?
I stand, and the boys do as well.
I stare at Phillip with my eyebrows pulled together so tight I am sure they form one line. “Where?”
He casts his gaze to the floor before he mutters, “The apartment. I’m sorry, sir, she said you approved it.”
“Approved what?”
“The letter she made me drop off telling Sailor you wanted to meet her.”
That sneaky little bitch.
“You can’t kill her,” Roberto says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “But you can give her to me as punishment.” In the signed contract, if the wife to be does anything that breaks the terms of the contract, I can pass her down to someone of my choosing. Roberto is all kinds of fucked up, and the person he was meant to marry doesn’t even live in America. So, he smiles and rubs his hands together in glee.
Joey stops me as we get to the building by placing his hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off, but he grabs me again.
“Give me your gun.” He nods to where it peeks out from the waistband of my trousers. “Give it to me, boss. You are going to go in there, and if they have hurt her, you will shoot and ask questions later. We can’t afford that to blow up. So, give me the damn gun.”
“Fuck you.” I step into the elevator and press the floor number. Joey and Roberto stand in front of me, and Phillip stands next to me. He’s been apologizing since we left my apartment, and to be honest, I am fucking sick of it. So much so I want to shoot him. I don’t blame him, though. I blame that evil, conniving bitch upstairs.
Maybe that’s why we were matched because we’re both as fucked up as each other. Her evil is on a whole different level than mine, though. She’s seeking revenge on a woman who didn’t even know she existed. She isn’t clever, that one. And I’m probably going to start a war by putting a bullet through her fucking brain if she has so much as moved a hair on Sailor’s head.
As soon as the elevator doors open, we march straight to the door, and I kick the fucker in. It snaps open, and what I see before me has my blood boiling.
All eyes in the room lock on me. But I focus solely on the woman who’s meant to have my child, the woman I’m meant to marry. And the first thing I want to do is cut her hands from her body, so she knows not to touch what’s mine.
I hear my name, but I’m too deep in my rage to give a fuck, to listen to their excuses, to even hear what they have to say.