I hold up my hand to silence whatever it is he’s about to say. I couldn’t give a fuck less what spills from his lips, because in the end, I’m still going to do what I have to.
I navigate through the home I feel I know just as well as him after reading the blueprint, thanks to a near-photographic memory. I turn right, starting down the long hallway that will lead to his office in the center of the house. The exact place we need to be for him to sign the documents we brought that will guarantee the Ciccones a twenty percent cut on his hotel business, and access to any property when we’re traveling.
I look at the walls as we walk, realizing it’s a shrine to Arloe. Each picture gives me a glimpse into different stages in her life. She’s a baby in the first—a chunky thing with a big pink bow. Then she’s a toddler and is running into her father’s arms. Her pre-teen phase is most interesting—a smile covered by braces and a bubbly personality that bleeds through the photo.
But as we take the turn, so does Arloe. She’s not too happy as a teen, but I see where her love for books started. It seemed innocent at first, G-rated books about wizards and descendants of Gods, and I wonder when she got into the crap she reads today.
I stop in front of the last picture. She’s older here, but not by much. Barron has his arm around her shoulder, smiling proudly, but she looks…sad and distant.
Normally, things like that wouldn’t even faze me, but Arloe is awakening something inside me. She’s changing me.
As we breach the threshold of his office, I raise my head and square my shoulders. Barron enters the space, fear and confusion lining his features. I nod toward his desk.
“Have a seat, Mr. Harway,” I deadpan.
“What’s going on? Who are you people?”
He doesn’t move, and I have to say I admire that about him. But I also see where Arloe gets her stubbornness from.
“We have some paperwork for you to sign,” I answer plainly.
He looks from me to Jude then back. “I’m not doing anything you say. Do you know who I am?”
Jude snickers. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t. Now, you heard the man…sit.”
When Barron doesn’t budge, Jude calmly removes his gun from behind his back, letting it linger at his side.
“This doesn’t need to be complicated, Mr. Harway. You’re a businessman, just like us. You sign what’s in that envelope my brother has there, and we’ll be out of your hair. It’s that easy.” I shrug but remain as neutral as possible.
That’s how it works with us. Jude’s the hot-headed, trigger-happy psycho while I keep my cool.
“I don’t know who you people—”
Jude cuts him off by cocking his Glock. Barron swallows a breath, his Adam’s Apple rolling under his skin.
“Sit,” I order again.
He finally moves and settles behind his desk. Barron reaches for something, but Jude’s at his side with the barrel pointed at his head in seconds.
“You’re an educated man, Barron,” Jude blurts. “Don’t get stupid now.”
The man hisses, and I saunter up to his desk, taking a seat in front of it. Jude stays standing, though, prepared to end this man’s life without a second thought.
“You have something my father wants.” I lean back into the seat then rest my ankle over my left thigh. “And we won’t go home without it. He’ll be angry, then we’ll be angry, and frankly, I’m not in the mood. We’ve come a long way. I’m starving and would really like to get this over with.”
Jude drops the envelope in front of him and removes the pre-written agreement that makes Eric Ciccone a shareholder in Harway Hotel Group.
Barron reads the documents, flipping through the pages angrily. He stops after the fourth page and shakes his head at me then snarls at Jude.
“I’m not signing over any percentage of my company.”
“I was really hoping you wouldn’t say that,” I mumble.
My eyes flash to Jude who’s smiling and itching to do what he does best. Pain is his game, and manipulation is mine. Hell, maybe I’m more like dear ol’ dad than I realized.
Jude smacks him with the back of the gun, but not hard enough to knock him out. I stand and move to his other side, lifting him to his feet by his arm before jabbing him in the ribs. Honestly, I don’t need to because I know Jude can handle this part, but I feel if I don’t step in, Barron will end up dead, and that’s not something I want to tell Arloe. That her father is dead and I let it happen.
The moment I release my hold on him, he hunches over and lets out a cough.
“It still won’t happen.” His voice comes out strained and hoarse.
“Look,” Jude starts, moving closer to Barron than he already is. He reaches into the inside pocket of his suit and pulls out a smaller envelope, and slaps that on the desk as well. “How much do you love your daughter, Barron?”
Barron and I both seize up at the mention of Arloe, but unlike Mr. Harway, I manage to keep my composure.
Never show them you care.
“What does my daughter have to do with this?” he seethes.
“Open it.” Jude points his gun at the envelope.
Barron removes a stack of photos, and my heart rate pulses faster. Images of Arloe stare back at me. Pictures of her in the bookstore, outside her apartment building, at the club during Emilio’s release party, in his office with me between her thighs, even in my game room last night as I railed her from behind.
“My brother is already fucking your sweet little girl, don’t make us do much worse. Sign the contract, and all he’ll do is make her come, and you’ll get to see her for Christmas.”
This fucking asshole. I’m going to kill him and drop him at my father’s feet.
They’ve been watching me, put cameras in my house, and violated the agreement we made just moments before getting on that damn plane.
My way, this was supposed to go my way.
“Don’t and, well, I’m sure you can guess what happens to your precious daughter.” Jude stares at me, though, his words more for me than Barron. “We’ll ruin you, your name, and what chance you think you have at running for office, and we’ll end up acquiring your company anyway.”
I glare at my brother, wanting nothing more than to rip his head from his body. But I maintain my composure.
“Just sign the papers, Barron,” I chide.
“I won’t.” He raises his chin and glares at us over the bridge of his nose.
I nearly flinch, his words pissing me off. But it’s more about the shit my brother is pulling to undermine me. We had a deal, and he’s gone against his word. But most importantly, he threatened Arloe’s life, and her bitch of a father just signed her death note.
Anger takes hold, and I swing my fist directly at Barron’s nose. Blood oozes out, running past his lips and down his chin, and it makes me remember why I do this. Why I put up with my dad’s shit.
I knew I was different from a young age, it just took me years to figure out how. I’m not a sociopath or anything, I just enjoy hurting people and I enjoy control. I have a conscience and think about all I do, but the pleasure I get from it outweighs the thoughts of feeling bad.
Seeing someone look up to you in fear as you stand over them or hear them beg you to stop is a high you can’t find anywhere else. It’s exhilarating, which is exactly why I moved it into my bedroom play.