But to unburden himself in front of Pascal… That was just too much.
In eerie prescience, MacNiven said, “You might as well get over it and tell us why you’re here.”
“I came here to talk to you, not him.” He jerked his chin in Pascal’s direction.
“We’re a team,” MacNiven replied evenly. “If you trust me, you trust him. And Lottie, and Rachel, and whoever else decides to work with you to accomplish your goal.”
“Ou je peux le jeter par la fenêtre,” Pascal said in an undertone.
He faced Pascal. “I heard that.”
“Ah, but understanding is a different thing,non?” Pascal zipped back.
“I understand French, asshole.” Mostly. He’d spent a year playing for Paris St. Germaine back in the day. His French was rusty, but he still got the gist.
Pascal just shrugged. “Then perhaps you are not as barbarian as I always thought.”
“Gentlemen,” MacNiven chided mildly. “Didier, why don’t we let Daniel tell us why he came to see us? It’s definitely not to catch up on old times.”
“Call me Danny.” His dad called him Daniel because it sounded tougher. That was why he’d usedDaniel Oseias his professional name instead of Danny Gilbert, which was his given name. Only Ortiz called him Danny anymore. His mom used to as well, but it’d been forever since he’d talked to her.
“Okay,Danny.” MacNiven smiled at him. “You have ten seconds to tell us why you’re here before I give Didier the go-ahead to defenestrate you.”
He glanced at Pascal.
Pascal smirked. “It’s probably because his game has been shit.”
MacNiven nodded. “Probably.”
He gritted his teeth, trying not to take the bait.Focus on the problem.Taking a deep breath, he said, “I have some people in my house that I need to get rid of.”
MacNiven and Pascal glanced at each other. “What people?” MacNiven asked.
His shoulders got rigid just thinking about it. “I invited my dad to visit me, so he could watch me play in the Champions League finals.”
“The last time Chelsea played in the finals was a year and a half ago,” MacNiven said.
“Yes, and my dad’s been at my place since.” He leaned forward, clasping his hands between his legs. “That’s not the problem though. The problem is that he’s invited some of his other people to come stay too.”
“Other people,” MacNiven repeated. “Who are these people?”
“People he clicked with.”
MacNiven nodded. “Ah.”
There was a lot unsaid in that one sound.
“Donc…” Pascal shrugged. “Ask them to leave.”
“I did. They say they will, or that they need more time to find other lodgings.” He fidgeted once before he got a grip on himself. “They haven’t budged though.”
MacNiven raised his brow. “The baddest enforcer in football can’t move some guys out of his house? Have you called the police?”
“I can’t.” If he called the cops, the media would get ahold of the story. His dad would lose face in front of his family and the rest of the village, and he’d lose face with his dad. He didn’t want to mess up his relationship with his dad over this—not after all the time he’d taken to build it. Worse, he wasn’t entirely certain they wouldn’t implicate him with the drugs—it was his word against theirs and his reputation wasn’t exactly pristine in the media.
Plus, there was Kofi. If his dad left, he’d take Kofi. Danny couldn’t do that to his brother, not when he had the means to help him have a better life.
But would MacNiven understand any of that? He wasn’t sure, so he just said, “It’s complicated.”