Page 90 of Tailored for You

A guy in a rumpled button-down shirt stood up, his eyes glassed over in a way that I knew he was on the wrong side of tipsy.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he yelled.

I sighed, shaking my head. Donovan, Angelo, Rafael, and I pulled out our guns, aiming them at various men.

The room went still.

“Get out.” I said again, my voice low and menacing

Everyone scrambled to their feet and rushed for the door.

I stepped in front of one—the reason I’d come.

“Not you.” I tapped him on the shoulder with my gun. “You sit down.”

Charles Clearwart’s face went red as he watched his friend run out of the room, leaving him behind.

Nudging him to the chairs in the center of the room that faced each other, I made him sit in one while I took the other.

Donovan and Angelo took their positions standing behind him, while Rafael took his position behind me.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, man, too,” I paused, because in my eyes, Charles wasn’t a man; he was a pathetic weasel, “you.”

“If this is about that bitch,” he snarled.

I raised my eyebrows. Donovan reached over and tweaked Charles’ ear, as a mother would a misbehaving son.

He screeched, moving to stand. Angelo shoved him back in his chair.

“Don’t call her that. Ever again.” I held my gun, resting it on my thigh.

“Not unless you have a death wish,” Rafael added.

“Serena and Harper are mine,” I stated.

“The fuck,” he started, but Angelo reached over and slapped his Adam’s apple, causing him to gargle the words and cough.

I waited until he finished wheezing. This was important, and I didn’t want him to pretend he didn’t hear me.

“Stop talking,” I ordered. I promised Serena I wouldn’t cause him real damage, so I had to resort to these childish antics so I could confidently say to Serena, without lying, that I did not hurt Charles.

“I think he should keep trying to move. Donovan and Angelo need to practice their torture techniques.” Rafael shrugged. “They’re young but creative.”

Donovan and Angelo stood taller at the compliment.

“You fucked up your life,” I started. “You ruined the best thing in your life. Now, you’re left watching Serena and Harper thrive without you.” I leaned forward. “That must burn you. That they’re doing better without you than with you. That they don’t and never will need you.”

“I am Harper’s father. She’ll always need me,” Charles said. I wanted to punch him in his smug face.

“No. She won’t. Not when there’s someone else taking care of her. Tucking her in at night.” I tilted my head. “Calling me Daddy.”

Charles thought he had some sick ownership of Serena and Harper.

“I’m her dad. She knows that.”

“Harper’s smart. Soon, she’ll realize you’re nothing but a sperm donor. A waste of space. She’ll stop calling you Dad, stop caring when you don’t show up. Because I’ll be there. Doing everything you were too weak to do.”

Charles opened his mouth, but he had nothing to say that I needed to hear. I motioned to Donovan, who pulled some fabric from his pocket. Angelo held Charles still while Donovan shoved it in his mouth, pulled out duct tape, and wrapped it around the idiot’s head.