I nod frantically, my eyes wide.
A slow, cruel smile spreads across his face. He yanks me closer, and I stumble forward, my heels catching on the area rug on the floor. His other hand comes up to grip my shoulder, holding me in place. His fingers dig into my skin hard enough it’ll likely bruise.
“Dren wants to send a message,” he says. “To your father.Andyour husband. The best way to do that, it seems, is through you. Tell them to stop fucking with our business or they’ll regret it.”
Just when I think he’s done, he squeezes my wrist even tighter and makes me wince.
“So will you. Understand?”
I nod again, more terrified than I’ve ever been in my life.
Then, as suddenly as he appeared, he lets go. He shoves me so I stumble back against the store mirror. He turns and strides off, his heavy boots thudding against the floor ’til he’s gone.
I stand there, frozen, my entire body trembling. My wrist throbs where he grabbed me, and it’s already bruising.
I’m not sure how many seconds go by before Killian emerges from between the racks. His face is twisted in anger, clearly irritated by my disappearance.
“Where the fuck did you?—”
He cuts himself off mid-sentence. He drinks in how I look, pressed up against the mirror with wide, watery eyes and a tremble working its way through my body.
His demeanor changes instantly. His anger remains but for different reasoning. He’s suddenly more alert, glancing around and speaking with an urgent tone.
“What is it?” he growls. “Simone, what the fuck happened?”
I open my mouth, unsure what I’m even about to say. My throat is tight and my tongue is heavy.
So I say the only thing I can think to say. One word that seems to sum up what just happened.
“Dren.”
THIRTEEN
Ronan
“I’ve got bad news.”
They’re the first four words out of Killian’s mouth as I answer the phone in the middle of my lunch with New York State Gaming Commissioner Dale Qualley.
We’re eating at some breezy restaurant next to the horserace track in Brooklyn. It might look like a normal luncheon between pals, but it’s really all about making some new deals under the table while we eat greasy chicken fried steak and pretend to talk about thoroughbreds.
I excuse myself from the table and head outside onto the patio.
“What kind of bad news?” I grit out.
My mind automatically jumps to Simone. Killian was tasked as her security today. He was supposed to take her shopping. If something’s happened to her?—
“The ogre motherfucker made an appearance,” Killian says, interrupting my thoughts.
My shoulders tense, my grip tightening on the phone. “Where?”
“SoHo. She was browsing at a boutique when she snuck away for a moment?—”
“You mean youlether sneak away,” I growl.
“I don’t know what else to tell you ’cept that when your wife is determined, there’s almost no stopping her. She found the 0.5 seconds I took my eyes off her, then wandered off. As soon as she did, Dren’s enforcer Amar showed up and threatened her.”
I have no response other than the way my teeth grind together and tension locks my jaw. “What did he do?”