The Boss (Chateau 3)

My hand cupped her face, and my thumb caught a tear that slid down her cheek. Her eyes were subdued, as if she were scared, and the sheen on the surface of her eyes reflected the brilliant chandelier above. Whether she cried or smiled, her beauty was the same, but this was a sad beauty. Her words from last week came back to me, an echo. You’re all I have. Her father left. Her mother left. And then her sister left, and Melanie crossed the ocean to chase her, hurt that she was left behind. Every single person had come and gone. My fingers moved to her chin, and I forced her to look at me. “I will never abandon you, chérie.”

Her eyes started to water more.

As if that was exactly what she needed to hear.

When I didn’t hear from Liam by that evening, I texted him. Is it done? I shouldn’t even have to ask, and I was tempted to order his execution next.

There was no response. No dots. No activity.

I sat at my desk, staring at the dark screen of my phone, growing more furious by every passing second.

Then it rang.

It was Magnus, using the satellite phone at the camp.

I answered but didn’t speak, my mood too foul for a conversation.

He was used to my silence, so he knew I was there. “I’ve agreed to give Charles forty-eight hours to get the money.”

My body immediately tightened when I heard what he said, and without a second thought, I was on my feet. I moved to the windows, looking out into the darkness like I could somehow see him hundreds of miles away. My anger was so fucking loud through the phone that I didn’t need to say a goddamn word.

“He lost over half his men in the hit. The money was taken. But he will have it for us in forty-eight hours.”

I could see my own reflection in the glass, see the fire in my dark eyes. “I will slit Liam’s throat for this.”

Static came over the line because the connection was weak, but his words were strong. “It’s forty-eight hours, Fender.”

“Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“That’s how we treat our partnerships? I’ve verified that his story is true, that the hit was real, that he even lost his wife and eldest son. Your response isn’t just cold, but maniacal.”

“We have our rules.”

“No one has to know—”

“People talk, Magnus. They’ll know we’re soft.”

“I think it’s better to appear soft than fucking insane. It’s bad for business. Charles has been our partner for years, has always paid us on time, and to ignore that is disloyal. We would lose more respect doing it your way instead of mine.”

“There is no your way. It’s my way. I’m in charge here—not you.”

He turned quiet for a while. “My job is to make you see clearly, to see past your anger and stubbornness and make the best decision for yourself as well as the business. I will do that job whether you like it or not.”

I clenched my jaw so hard my gums ached. “If you were anyone else, I’d kill you. Personally.”

“Trust me, I feel the same way.”

I sat in the sitting area in my bedroom, looking at the TV above the fireplace, nursing my anger with a glass of scotch. The screen was showing a replay of the game, but I didn’t pay attention to it.

Fucking Magnus. He had a lot of goddamn nerve.

We disagreed on almost everything, from the business to personal ideologies. We were enemies in every way but blood. But that connection was so strong, so innate, that it conquered everything else.

I made threats I would never execute.

He did the same.

My own man went over my head and snitched to Magnus, and I should kill them both, even if they were right, but I couldn’t. All I could do was sit there and simmer, infuriated. My hands squeezed my glass so hard that I almost shattered it a couple times. But I’d learned my lesson from doing it so many times. A shard of glass in the hand was a bitch to get out, and Gilbert would lose his goddamn mind if the blood stained any of the furniture.

My bedroom door opened.

It was behind me on the other side of the room, but I knew exactly who it was. “Not tonight.” Her beauty wouldn’t pull me out of this mood. Her sweet voice wouldn’t make me think of the roses in the garden. My fury was unconquerable.

But she came to me anyway.

Wearing lingerie.

A black bodysuit covered in diamonds.

I stared at her, still angry, but a bit less. “I’m not in the mood.” I turned my gaze back to the TV and took a drink.

She remained next to the armrest, in sky-high heels, smooth legs, big hair. “What happened?”

I rested my arm over the back of the couch. “Doesn’t concern you.”