The happy warmth those thoughts brought turned cold when I thought again about how it couldn’t last. Even if I wasn’t a bastard who would choose his company over everything, she’d eventually realize I wasn’t the man she thought I was. Somehow, she’d convinced herself I was a good person–that I was worth whatever feelings she was developing for me. I knew differently. There wasn’t anything left in me to love. I was just a shell of a man after pouring everything into my company for so many years. It was only a matter of time before she’d realize that, and I was a fucking asshole for stringing her along even this long.
Maybe I could justify my selfishness by knowing that I might be able to help her heal her past wounds by bringing her to Manhattan like this. She’d been running since I met her, and I wasn’t sure if she’d ever come back on her own. Before we left, I fully intended to help her navigate the mess she’d left behind.
I was lost in my thoughts when someone bumped me roughly from behind. I was in line for bagels and I turned, ready to give whoever it was shit for being so clumsy.
I frowned at the sight of the man who’d bumped me. He looked like a bulldog personified. He was all sagging jowels, bags under his eyes, and thick, wrinkled skin. He wore a button-down that looked like it belonged on some vacation resort. The shirt was covered in brightly colored, cheery palm trees and made of what looked like silk. He had a Rolex on one wrist and diamond bands on the other to match the earring he wore. My best guess would put him in his early sixties.
“Pardon,” he said in a thick New York accent. No part of him sounded sorry, and from the way he was looking at me, I was certain he knew who I was.
“I know you, don’t I?” I asked. I recognized him, but I couldn’t put a name to his face. But I had a very good guess about who I was looking at.
“You know my son,” he said, pausing long enough to let the words gain meaning.
That was it. The man was Luco Bellamo. I probably should’ve been terrified, but all I felt was pissed. This fucking asshole was the reason I couldn’t enjoy more time with Lola. He was the one fucking things up for us. Worse, he was showing up ahead of schedule and forcing me to deal with this before I was done enjoying my trip.
“Alright,” I said tightly. “What the fuck is it you want, exactly?”
Luco stared up into my eyes. He was tall, but still not quite at my level. I stared back, imagining how most men probably broke off and turned into a nervous mess from the intense focus of those watery, dark eyes. All I felt was rage and defiance, though. I glared hard, jaw ticking.
Luco finally broke the silence with a soft laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. “You’ve got some balls, don’t you, Stone?” he jabbed me a few times with his finger. “You know I could use a guy like you, if you ever decide to stop playing with spreadsheets all day.”
“You haven’t told me what you want,” I said.
“Come over here with me,” he jerked his head to an empty corner of the bakery.
I left the line and followed him, waiting with crossed arms as he leaned on a tall table. He took a moment to glance around and make sure nobody seemed to be paying us any attention, then continued. “I’m not sure how familiar you are with the way things work in my world,” Luco said. “But it goes without saying that nothing I tell you ever gets repeated unless I directly tell you to fuckin’ repeat it. Got that?”
I noted he didn’t need to explain what the consequences of breaking this rule were. Something in his tone told me there was zero tolerance for rats in his world. Chances were, he’d try to have me killed if he found out I was talking to the wrong people about him. I nodded.
“I want to hear you say you understand, Christian.”
“I’m not part of your world,” I said. “Your son is holding a gun to my company to buy my help. I’m not here willingly, and I don’t really give a shit what games you play in your world. I’m here to get you to leave me the fuck alone, so let’s skip all the pleasantries and get to the part where you tell me what you want.”
Luco didn’t grin this time. “Watch yourself. I admire a man with balls. I admire a little go-get-’em. But you’re walking a fine line between direct and disrespect.” He held my eyes for a long while.