Of course, he doesn’t have payment. Rarely do any of them. However, Arthur looks like a broken man. Like he’s lost everything. But his loss isn’t my concern. His loss is my gain. He understood the deal when he came begging for my money. They all do. He agreed to the terms when he signed his name on the dotted line after I gave him out after out, which I do with everyone because I know it eventually ends like this. Now, he has to live with the consequences of his decision to enter into a contract with me. He has regrets, but there’s nothing I can or will do about it.
“I understand the terms of our agreement, Florian, but I’m out of options here. I need the money for Arabelle, so I can’t repay you right now.”
Arabelle.
I feel a stir at the sound of her name, and I shift to get more comfortable. Her name stirs something primal in me.
Arabelle Williamson, better known as my obsession. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. The first time I saw her, she was performing inDon Quixote. It was then that I became consumed by my desire for her.
The beast in me wants to strip her bare and have her screaming my name until she can’t scream any longer, her body slick with my cum and limp under me. But Florian, the sane side of me, stays away to keep from ruining her, destroying her with my demons.
My need for her won’t distract me. Arthur just lied. He doesn’t need the money for Arabelle. She has her own money and keeps him and his other children afloat as her career soars. What he needs the money for doesn’t matter to me, but I know it isn’t for her.
I hate fucking liars.
“She’ll be named principal dancer soon, Florian,” he continues, “and with that title comes more opportunity.”
More money for him to take from her.
The excitement gleaming in his eyes at the prospect of the money Arabelle will garner being named principal dancer causes my stomach to lurch. Now, it makes sense why Arthur and Olan are such good friends. He’ll exploit her like Olan exploits all his children, damn the consequences.
When I narrow my eyes, his smile disappears.
“So, you would use your daughter, your goddamn flesh and blood to repayyourdebts?” My temper and disgust rise. He’ll make her work twice as hard, so he no longer owes me money or anyone else. “They’re your debts to pay, not hers.”
“I’m not using her.”
His chin lifts as he crosses his arms over his chest. He knows I’m right, but the old bastard refuses to admit it to me even though he admitted it to himself a long time ago. He’s a fucking snake in the grass.
“She’s a good girl, Florian. She’ll do what is necessary to help her family. To help me.”
Like always.
I sit back in my chair, interlacing my fingers and eyeing the man who’s now lost what little respect I held for him.
“Arabelle doesn’t need to work harder than she already is, Arthur.”
Although Arthur doesn’t need to know, Hugo, one of my soldiers who is also former Mossad, follows Arabelle and sends me a report every weekend detailing her movements. She practices, performs, and attends the required after-parties for the dancers and photoshoots, fulfilling her obligation to the theater. That’s all. Her life revolves around dance. Taking care of Arthur’s debts would add even more pressure. Besides her attorney, Dale Austin, whom I despise, she has no interaction with anyone.
I see how he looks at her, how much he wants her, which I think she’s oblivious to. If she’s not oblivious to the way he feels about her, she doesn’t see him the same way and ignores it.
Asva and Alrick both discouraged me from killing him a while ago because, in their words, no matter my feelings for him, Dale Austin protects Arabelle from people looking to prey on her, including her family. It’s the only reason he’s still breathing.
“You know nothing about my daughter,” Arthur growls. “So, you have no place to say anything about what she needs to do.”
He has no fucking clue what I know about his daughter, but I’ll keep that thought to myself. He doesn’t need to know she is my obsession. No one needs to know that I’ve killed for her.
“She’ll do what is necessary for her family,” he continues. “And Arabelle isn’t your concern.”
Arabelle will always be my concern.
I shake my head, repulsed by the idea of her working harder. I won’t allow him to exploit her for his own benefit anymore. Now, I can have what I’ve always wanted—her.
The beast inside me stirs with interest.
“I’ll tell you what, Arthur. Since I’m in a good mood today, maybe we can come to another agreement.” Hope blooms in his eyes. How long it will last remains to be seen. “I’ll forgive your debt and pay off all your creditors on one condition.” He smiles, and I hold up my index finger before he can thank me. Before his hopeful attitude plummets. “If you give me Arabelle’s hand in marriage.”
“What!” His caramel skin deepens in shade. His polished dress shoes echo off the bamboo flooring as he paces in front of my desk like he has a fire under his ass. “She’s not ready to be married, Florian, especially to a man like you.”
