The festering in my chest increases tenfold as I try to imagine life without her. I’ve always dealt in black and white with decisions, emotions never a consideration.
No emotions, no mistakes.
When the song begins again, I stare down at my phone, my finger still hovering above send as it rings in my hand.
“I don’t have time to talk,” I snap.
“What was our agreement, Tobias?” Antoine hisses in reply.
“I did your fucking bidding. I just left Paris. I saw to it the deal was in motion—”
“Do you want to be the one to tell my sister her only son died tonight?”
“I told you not to move in without me,” anger surges, desperate for an outlet. “I told you not to send him. That he wasn’t ready.”
“I don’t take orders from you,” he bites back. “And now I have a dead nephew, and you cost me. This was your deal.”
“I told you I would be back in a few—”
“You’ve broken our agreement.”
“I told you to wait on me!” I roar into the phone, my palms sweating as needles begin to prick the skin of my chest.
“And you’ve wasted too much of my time with your little vacation home,” he keeps his tone even, and it’s then I know he has an agenda. “I’m afraid this oversight is going to cost you a lot more this time, Ezekiel.” I pause when the music drifting from the house is abruptly cut off, and know I have minutes to send the text to cancel the order, to free her of my mark, to rid her of this life, especially since I know that by being here, indulging her, I’ve just indebted myself to Antoine.
“We need to have a long discussion about our future.”
He doesn’t give a fuck about his nephew. And I wouldn’t put it past him to sabotage his own deal to get what he wants from me—my allegiance. I take comfort in knowing he doesn’t give a fuck about my club. It’s control he’s after—that I can give him to stave him off.
“I’ll go to my Charlotte office and wire you the money. I’ll personally make sure your sister has my sincerest condolences.”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to be enough.”
I hang my head, knowing that he’s got me. Not once have I failed to deliver, but by being absent, I gave him an opportunity to entrap me. And his next words only confirm my suspicions.
“I’ll expect you home within the week.”
“France is not my fucking home!”
“Maybe a compromise, then. I’m not an unreasonable man, and I’ve always been curious about the place you consider home, Tobias.”
Tobias.
He’s never once called me by that name.
That itself is threat enough. He’s found some leverage in my so-called fuck-up, and he’s not letting go of it.
Over the years, I’ve fed him bits and pieces about the club through Palo, spoonful by spoonful, to give him the illusion he’s in the know, but it seems that tactic is starting to backfire. I can’t afford to have him involve himself in any way in my life here, especially now.
“You’re crossing a fucking line,” I feel the pulse in my temple pounding.
“I, too, am offended by your disregard. He was my only nephew.”
I start in the direction of Roman’s house just to lay eyes on her, to gather some comfort just from her presence, despite the hostile reception I’m sure to get, and make it just a few steps toward her when her bedroom light clicks off. Stopped halfway between the clearing and Roman’s mansion, I stand in a state of utter indecision as defeat starts to seep in. There’s no way around Antoine, and my priorities have to shift now if I want to get ahead of him and keep him far, far away from what matters most to me.