With a flick of the wrist, Damon unrolls a scroll of velvet fabric on the desk, revealing the Parlaut diamonds—necklace, earrings, and bracelet. The gems sparkle in the low light.
Edward scrunches his nose, adjusting his glasses as he inspects the diamonds with a jeweler's loupe. He leans in closer, his eyes narrowing, brows perked up as he examines each individual gem. I grow impatient as the minutes pass.
“How long is this going to take?” I grunt, checking my watch.
Edward’s milky gaze flicks up to me, and he scowls. “You are asking me for quite a large sum of money,sir. I intend to make sure that I’m not being cheated by a couple of pricks in couture.”
Damon snorts as I’m scolded by a man who could easily be my father, and so I elbow him in the kidney, shutting him up.
After nearly an hour, Edward puts down the jeweler's loupe, scrutinizing the Parlaut diamonds on his desk. "I will give you four hundred," he says, his voice steady.
Damon stiffens beside me as my jaw ticks at Edward’s offer.
"We agreed on five hundred," Damon grits out. “And that is what you will pay.”
Edward sighs. "In order for me to push them, I have to remove the stamps, serials, and then find buyers. It's a long and tedious process. Four hundred. That's my offer."
Damon's lip twitches. We can’t take four hundred. We need the full amount. We need five hundred million dollars. We can’t be short. Not a dollar. Not a fucking penny.
This bastard. This fucking twat.
Does he know what he’s doing? Does he know how important this transaction is? Does he know that someone could die? Thatshecould die? Emery.
Our Emery.
No.
That can’t happen. That won’t happen!
Something snaps in me. A red haze clouds my vision, and I lose control. Without a second thought, I leap over the desk, my hands grabbing Edward by the collar of his housecoat.
Rage consumes me, and I yell, "You will pay the five hundred, you miserable piece of shit!"
Damon lurches forward, trying to peel me off of Edward. "Quin, stop! What the hell are you doing?"
My grip on Edward tightens, and I continue to growl at him. "We're not here to haggle, you dirty old man! This is not a fucking negotiation! You will pay five hundred million, or I swear to God, I'll make you regret this day for the rest of your pathetic fucking life!"
Edward’s eyes widen in fear, his glasses askew on his nose. I have no control. None. Anger rushes through my veins, blocking all reason, all sense of calm. My vision blurs as I expel heavy, ragged breaths.
“Quinton!” I barely hear his voice. “Quin!” A static whisper. “Quin!” Damon yanks on my shoulder, jolting me briefly away from the chaos of my mind. “Your phone.” He glances down at my pocket. “It’s ringing.”
“What?!” I fumble for my phone, my hands trembling. The screen lights up with Red's contact name. I answer, my voice hoarse and rocky. “Yes?”
"I got it."
"Where?" I demand, my chest pounding. “Where is she?!”
"She's in Sicily. A small town west of Palermo."
"Address," I breathe. "Give me the address.”
"I couldn't get that specific. Sarrano—that's the town. That's all I know." Red pauses. "Good luck, Quinton Marquis. I hope you find what you're looking for."
Damon's chest rises as he stares at me, and I hang up. "She got it?" he asks, and I nod slowly, still in disbelief. Damon turns toward Edward, teeth gritted, and he's no longer the mediator as he threatens the old man. "Five hundred, Mr. Sullivan, or else I'll ensure those eyes are never able to inspect another diamond ever again."
Edward swallows as he attempts to snap back. "You are not the only man with resources, Mr. Cavanaugh."
Damon's features darken. "Perhaps, but I am the only man with literally nothing to lose. I'll die over this, Sullivan. Can you say the same thing?"
