I glance at her, then at Kraig. “Good,” I reply.
Vivian’s gaze flicks between us, trying to read the both of us. “Ahh...” she mutters. “I see.”
I don’t acknowledge her. My focus stays on him. “Then we’re done here.” But Vivian doesn’t let it end there. Like a typical Reith, she has to have the last word. Her eyes flick to Payson, then back to me, roaming over my body in a seductive way. The taste of bile fills my mouth.
“This is far from over,” she taunts, looking at Payson, then at me. One phone call to my business partner, her brother, is all it would take to shut her up for a while. I don’t have the patience to deal with her shit. Her words settle between us not as a threat, but as a warning.
CHAPTER 27
Ledgar
“Ex?”I ask, already knowing the answer. She doesn’t look at me, just turns and starts walking toward my office.
“Yes.” That’s all she gives me as I follow silently behind her. I go to move around my desk, pouring us two glasses of bourbon and handing one to her.
“The woman?” I ask.
“Jay’s sister.”
I knew that, but that’s not the question I am asking. It doesn’t explain the way Vivian looked at us. Curious but certain she’d seen all that she needed to, and that within itself is a problem. Her words weren’t a threat, but a warning.
“She doesn’t seem like your biggest fan,” I say. Payson huffs a quiet laugh before stepping past me toward the windows that overlook the casino floor.
I take a sip of my drink and lean back against my desk, crossing one ankle over the other, watching her. It’s become my favorite hobby.
“Yours either,” she adds.
I shrug. “Well, she believes that Jarrell should have named her partner instead of me.” Vivian isn’t just a problem. She watches her enemies and patiently waits for the right time to hit them. And I am not a man who likes to be watched. I want to stay two steps ahead of my enemies. “She’ll keep pushing,” I say evenly. “Not hard at first, but until she’s satisfied she’s got you where she wants you.”
Her brows lift. “You sound so sure of that.”
“I am.” She searches my eyes, then looks back out the window.
“What’s your excuse?” I ask her. Her lips curve a little. “I’m not blood.”
She turns the glass in her hand, watching the liquid move, before releasing a small breath.
“It’s funny,” she adds, soft and vulnerable. “You can grow up around people…sit at their tables, celebrate their holidays, have their last name, know everything about them….” She wipes a stray tear from her face. “And it doesn’t matter, because it’ll never make you one of them.” I don’t interrupt her, don’t go to her. Something inside me breaks a little for her. “They constantly remind you though,” she continues, her voice steady again. “When mistakes get made….” She tightens her grip around the glass. “You are just close enough to be useful, but never close enough to matter.”
“She’s disliked people for less,” I say humorously, trying to ease the burden. That earns me an actual laugh this time.
“Once, for my birthday she gave me a plane ticket and told me to leave.” I raise a brow.
“That all?” She glances back at me. “Rude.”
“Depends,” I say, taking another sip. “Was it at least first class?”
She pauses. “….maybe.”
“Well at least she has high standards.”
She stares at me for a second then shakes her head, a smile breaking through despite how much she tries to fight it. “I didn’t leave.”
“Obviously.”
“Listening isn’t really your strong suit, is it?” she asks.
“No,” I say plainly.
