Gareth knew where Billy Kosianos worked and knew the weasel would be in the office on a Saturday, just like everyone who worked in cutthroat, big law firms. He’d once worked at one himself.
It was all black furniture, glass, and people with harried expressions.
Gareth didn’t bother checking in with the receptionist. He went straight to the top floor, read the nameplates on the doors, and pushed open the one in the last corner office with his fist.
The glass door slammed against the wall behind it, making the man behind the gigantic desk jump, but he quickly recovered.
“Gareth Clark. What an honor,” Kosianos said with a grin. He looked just as greasy as he had seven years ago, with his hair slicked back as if he were still in the nineties. He was wearing an immaculate suit. Well, they’d see how long that lasted.
“Billy Kosianos. What a shame,” he replied coldly.
The lawyer’s grin only widened. “Let me guess: You’re here to talk about the good old days?” he said cheerfully, slowly coming around the desk.
Gareth didn’t reply. He just stared at his counterpart calculatingly. God, how he hated the guy. He used to treat Hazel like dirt. He’d deliberately given her a fake timetable so she’d be late to every lecture, poured dirt in her bag because "dirt and filth went together," and humiliated her so many times in front of her classmates about her background and obvious money problems that Gareth couldn’t count them on two hands. Kosianos had treated her as if she wasn't worth Harvard and thathad struck a nerve with Gareth. Admittedly, everything to do with Hazel struck a nerve, but Kosianos had always had a special talent in that area.
“You must imagine my surprise when I saw your name on the reply to my letter,” Kosianos continued delightedly. “Here I am, wanting to piss on Hazel Barrow and I get a two-for-one deal with you! She was hoping you’d still scare me, huh?”
Gareth smiled coolly and stepped forward suddenly.
Kosianos stopped abruptly.
Yes, he was still scared. He was only barking to hide it. “Billy, I’m not here to listen to your bullshit,” he replied in a dangerously calm tone. “I'm here to explain the schedule for the next few hours. You will drop this ridiculous lawsuit. Today. You will write a personal letter of apology to Mrs. Barrow, explaining that you were too stupid to properly grasp the situation. And then you will bake her cupcakes and bow low to Hazel the next time you see her.”
Kosianos snorted. “Anything else?”
“Oh, I was hoping you’d ask.” Gareth inclined his head. “Do you remember what I told you back then, what I would do if you said one more bad word about Hazel? And what I did when you made the mistake of ignoring my kind request?”
Kosianos snorted again and crossed his arms. “Are you threatening me, Clark?”
“Threateningis such an ugly word. I’m merely pointing out the consequences of your actions.”
“We’re not children anymore. You can’t just punch me if you don’t like what I have to say. I’d call the police. The press would tear you to pieces. You’re not a student anymore, you’re the owner of the Hawks. You have to maintain a clean slate.”
“I don’t give a shit about keeping a clean slate,” he whispered.
From Billy’s pale complexion, he could tell he believed him. “Why the hell are you even Barrow’s lawyer?” he demanded,annoyed. “You haven’t practiced law for a year! You don’t owe Hazel a favor for once deigning to fuck you! It was merely a pity fuck for you anyway.”
Hot rage made Gareth’s blood boil, and he clenched his hands. “I advise you to shut up,” he whispered tonelessly.
“Why?” Kosianos smirked. “You won’t do anything. Your control and your image are too important to you. And Hazel is still trash that someone dumped at Harvard, Clark. She’s really not worth the stress.”
A red veil settled over his eyes, pushing away the shred of reason his mind clung to, and a roar filled his ears.
And then there was nothing but anger and the thought thatno onecould talk about Hazel like that. Especially not in his presence.
Panic flashed across Kosianos’ face, and he took a step back. “I’ll call the police if you get violent!”
“Well then, you’d better call,” he murmured.
They didn’t arrive in time.
Gareth knew what it felt like to lose his mind — he was used to never completely letting go, just barely hanging on by his fingertips, trying to prevent something worse from happening.
But as he stretched his legs out on the concrete bench, inhaling deeply the scent of urine and bad decisions, and carelessly wiping the blood from his knuckles, he realized that total loss of control was strangely satisfying. And sometimes just worth it.
He’d imagined a holding cell would be more uncomfortable. The tin toilet and concrete benches bothered him only half as much as the screaming woman outside the bars.
“What the hell, Gare? What’s going on?” Penny’s face was so red she could easily work as a police siren. “You broke his nose!”
