Page 38 of Ruthless Roses
“Alexa. Play some Bach.”
The sharp notes of a violin fill the silence.
Ernest sips from his glass and lets out a tiny breath of refreshment. He explores his huge Centennial Village apartment like it’s for the first time. Every so often he stops to admire a piece of artwork on the wall or to feel the fine drapery hanging from one of the many windows.
He pauses by his office, peeking inside the slightly ajar door, and almost moves on. Instead, he does a double take, pushing the door wide open with a furious sweep of his arm.
“What in the world do you think you’re doing here!?” he rumbles at the sight of me reclined behind his desk. His almost-black eyes shrink into angry slits, his features twisting with absolute loathing. The stance his tall, broad-shouldered frame takes on is what we call the bladed position in boxing—his body at an angle, he looks like he’s about to strike. At any second, he’ll charge at me.
His senses return to him before making such a foolish mistake. Straightening up, he forces himself to appear casual and indifferent, setting down his wine glass on a nearby table and jamming a hand into the pocket of his slacks.
“Mancino,” he says, barely concealing the anger from his voice. “I didn’t expect to come home and find you at my desk. Though I realize breaking and entering is nothing to a criminal as vile as you.”
“Aht, aht. Careful, DA. You have to be nice to me.” I lean back in his plush leather chair and fold my hands behind my head, wearing a smart grin on my face. “Isn’t that what Delphine told you? You need my blessing. My forgiveness.”
“She said nothing about forgiveness!” he snarls before he can control himself. He heaves a deep breath, realizing he’s slipped up again. His eyes close and he takes another stab at pretending he’s calm and composed. “She said I’m not allowed anywhere near my grandson unless you agree.”
“So I heard. That poses a real problem for you, doesn’t it? Considering you, well, hate my guts.”
“What else can I say but that you’ve managed to brainwash my daughter? It comes as no surprise to me—you sunk your hooks into her young. If I’d ever known she’d meet you at that damn party she snuck out to, I would’ve shown up there myself just to drag her out!”
“You insult Phi when you say that.”
“What the hell are you on about now, Mancino?”
“You believe your daughter doesn’t possess the ability to make her own decisions,” I say lazily, picking up a law book that’s resting on his desk and rifling through it. “I gave her several outs. She’s where she wants to be. But you can’t accept the fact that your daughter—who is now a mother herself—made her own choice to be with me.”
“That’s because you’re a soulless, putrid piece of trash, and my daughter’s too good for you in every way!” He takes a wide step into the room, again as if about to charge. He forgets all about pretending he’s unbothered. His hate clenches onto his face. “If it’s the last thing I do, I swear I’ll make her see the truth! I’ll make her see you for the evil waste you are!”
“I’d like to see you try.”
His mouth stretches in an arrogant smirk. “Believe me, Mancino. I will. I’ll take her and your son away.Permanently.”
I’m up and on my feet without warning. I move fast, making it past his desk and crossing the room at a pace that takes him off guard. My hand pulls free of my pants pocket and flips open the Balisong knife I keep on me at all times.
Horror and uncertainty fill Ernest’s eyes and he takes half a step back.
“What are you—get away from me with that knife!”
But it’s too late. I’m in my deadliest mood. Composed and homicidal. I slash at him before he knows what’s happening, my strikes practically a blur. My knife nicks both of his cheeks, drawing blood.
He throws himself back against the wall to escape my blade. His hand comes up to his cheek. Droplets of blood color the tips of his fingers.
Shock expands on his face. “You cut me! You fucking cut me!”
It’s one of the few times I’ve heard Daddy Adams cuss.
It draws another grin out of me, even in my own murderous mood. “That’s the beginning. That’s the last warning. I’ll do much more cutting than that should you dare come anywhere near Phi and my son again. Let that be fucking clear. Understand that I have a crew of men who break bones for a living surrounding your apartment as we speak. That security of yours? Dead. Already being disposed of. You fuck with me, my wife, or my son, I will fuck with you so much worse. There will be no hiding. There will be no escape. I will destroy every piece of you.”
“Do what you must. Just know so will I, Mancino.”
I glare into his eyes, half a second away from finishing the job I’ve started with my knife. I could run him straight through, call up my guys, and have them dispose of him like they’ve done his security. It would be over in minutes.
Delphine would never have to know. Dominic wouldn’t either.
I could make up a story. Some kind of fake death story and bribe the media to push it to the masses.
Yet, as I face off with Ernest like we’ve done so many times before, deep down, I’m aware that would be the easy way out. It would be like conceding his point.