“And what if I refuse?” I shout. “What if I tell you to go fuck yourself? I’ll walk away and let you have it all to keep Cheryl in my life.”
“I don’t think so.” Frank flashes a shit-eating grin.
“No, I won’t let you do that.” Cheryl’s strangled plea rips through my gut.
“What if I say I don’t care about the new club and that Cheryl and I want to be together?”
“That would be unfortunate,” Frank deadpans.
“I’ll do it. I’ll give it all up if you leave her and me alone.” I shoot her a look. Her eyes wide and filled with disbelief.
“Are you also willing to give up your lavish lifestyle, or have you forgotten about everything you and Samson own—the penthouses, the cars—it all comes from the money I give you.”
The bastard is right. Back in the day, we signed some papers, but neither me nor Samson checked it out with a lawyer. We’d been too busy raking in the money and living a life neither one could’ve imagined, never realizing it was nothing but a house of cards.
“I don’t give a shit about that stuff if it means keeping Cheryl in my life.”
“Impressive, but are you willing to take chances with her life?” Frank jerks his thumb at Cheryl. “I think you saw in Miami how easy it was for someone to make you a target. Are you willing to put that same target on her back too?”
I drop my gaze to the floor.
Frank cocks his head. “I guess the big question is, are you willing to put her life on the line?” He nods to Cheryl. “Or have to look over your shoulder for the rest of your lives?”
I never doubted Frank’s far-reaching power. I’d seen what he was capable of doing, and I knew better than to push the mob boss, aware of the consequences, but I still couldn’t believe it. I’d come so far, had it all figured out in my head, yet Frank managed to fuck with me again. Any future I planned with Cheryl went up in a puff of reality.
A consuming exhaustion creeps through my bones.
“I think I made my point.” Frank shuffles the papers on his desk. “Just sign the contract, and you’ll have everything you want—except Cheryl.”
“No fuckin’ way.” I wouldn’t do it. I’d give up the club, the lifestyle, everything except Cheryl. Frank could go fuck himself with his offer.
“Fine.” Cheryl steps forward. “I’ll do what you ask. I’ll go to California and never see Nick again.”
“No fuckin’ way you’re leaving.” I lunge forward, and one of Frank’s goons holds me from behind.
“I refuse to be the reason you lose your dream and everything you’ve worked for.” Cheryl's eyes glisten with tears. “We tried to make a life together, but sometimes you have to know when to?—”
“To what, give up?” I shout. “Don’t let him win.”
“He already has.” She sucks in her lower lip, and something inside me breaks. “It’s better this way for both of us.”
“No, no, you don’t believe that. Don’t?—”
“We were stupid to think we could work.” Cheryl throws me a sad smile, turns and leaves the office.
“Wait.” I reach out to Cheryl’s vision. “Don’t go.”
“She can’t see or hear you,” Samson reminds me.
“Fuck.” I lower my head, and the same pain from ten years ago radiates through my gut.
“You were willing to give up everything and hand it all over to Frank for her.” Samson barks out a laugh. “Let me tell you, back in the day, I was fuckin’ pissed when you told me you even considered giving up the club and all we worked for because of a woman.”
“Not just any woman.”
“Right, and that’s when I figured out what she meant to you.”
“She means everything to me.” I turn away from Samson’s smirking face. “Her and Portia.”
