Her chin snaps sideways and she gasps.
“Should I clear them away?” Lucy murmurs, looking bored.
I hold up a hand. “Wait a second.”
The girl touches her face. Rage burns in her expression as she stares at the young man. He steps back, mouth hanging open, hands raised in apology. “Oh, fuck, Allie. Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“I’m going home,” she says fiercely. “Don’t call me. Don’t try to stop me.”
“It was a fucking mistake,” Thomas says, hands falling. “Don’t be such a bitch. Come on, we were dancing. You were having fun.”
“You’re drunk. I’m not interested. Just leave me alone.” She tries to push through, but she’s small and delicate, while Thomas is built more like a linebacker. She has to dart around him instead, but she only makes it a few steps before he shoves her from behind.
She hits the ground hard, her knees scraping on the concrete. She cries out in pain and surprise as Thomas looms over her.
“Fucking bitch. You shouldn’t have teased me all night like that, you stuck-up slut.”
Enzo’s voice cuts in through my earpiece. “Sir, the plane is gassed and waiting for your arrival.”
I look at the young man looming over the girl. She’s beautiful and fascinating.
But just another person. And I don’t do people.
They’re messy and complicated.
I followed through with my promise already, and now it’s time to leave.
“Let’s get moving,” I tell Lucy and stride over to my car, already forgetting about the petty drama playing out a few feet away.
MASS
Present day
Five hours after the wedding
My wife won’t even lookat me.
Allie sits at the far end of the plane closest to the rear with our daughter sleeping against her chest. The little girl cried during takeoff, but Allie quickly calmed her down.
I didn’t like the screaming.
But at least the child is acceptable when she’s unconscious.
I can’t stop looking at my wife. Even as Lucy talks about schedules, shipments, payments, and protection deals, I keep staring over. Allie cleaned as much of the blood off her as she could, but there are still little red scabs at her hairline.
The blood makes her more beautiful.
“You should offer her a towel.” I look back at my right hand and scowl.
“That’s not for you to decide.”
She shrugs casually, glancing down at her phone. “You want to make your life easier, don’t you? Try ingratiating yourself to her.”
“Since when do you offer me marriage advice?”
“Since you got married.”
I stare at her, giving away nothing. Because inside, there’s nothing to give away. I’m an empty shell, only ever filled by power, money, and death.
