Page 21 of When Sinners Hate
I walk for the shower to get ready for the day ahead. It’s the same routine I follow each morning. Come, clean, dress. I might be married now, but nothing has changed for me. I didn’t stay with my wife last night, nor did I treat her with anything other than the spite she got earlier in the night. I watched her behave impeccably for the rest of the evening, and I drove her back to Terrell Hills so that the whole charade fit the guise it should have done.
And then I came here.
Gentlemanly behaviour is for those who deserve it.
She doesn’t. In any way.
Sitting for a while in the silence after I’m ready, I stare out at the sleek modernity of the outside gardens and pool. I can’t imagine a woman being here. It’s all mine. My space. My solace. My independence from a family that consumes my every moment. And in any case, Alexia would hate it. She’d say it was too small, regardless of its size, and then complain that the area didn’t live up to the reputation her name was used to. It doesn’t, nor mine in reality, but this is where I chose. It’s quiet, not overlooked, and hard to get to without my own security system seeing everything coming for me.
The phone rings as I’m drinking the last of my coffee, and I swipe it before heading to my car and setting the alarms with my palm.
“They’re here. What time will you arrive?” Carmen asks.
“In about two hours.”
“And Dante for the others?”
I check my watch, as I slide into the car. “He should be there in thirty minutes.”
“Is the asshole joining him?” I chuckle, mildly amused at her irritation with Shaw.
“No. I’ll hold them if you can’t manage it.”
“Fine.”
She ends the call with nothing else to say, and I start the engine and head back to Terrell Hills, inputting Knox’s number. He answers on the third ring, sounding like he’s barely awake yet. Not surprising at this time of day.
“What?” he snaps.
“I want that money by the end of the day.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s covered.” It wasn’t two days ago, which is when it should have been in our accounts. “It’s not my fault Wren got pissy with Dante and made him help her with shit for your wedding.” My brow arches as I speed up onto the freeway.“You should’ve stopped that crap before it began. He’ll turn soft. How is marriage?”
“I wouldn’t know. Where are you with Reed?”
He walks somewhere, probably heading for the whisky he’s about to sink. A glass clinks, proving my point, and then he starts up with his lie. “There’s some intel, but he’s hard to track. Seems like he was seen in Miami at some point, but some of the guys back in Europe that survived the bomb say they’ve seen him in London.”
My sneer drops, as does my patience level with him. This has been going on for months, and whilst I was relatively alright letting him find his way with whatever he’s been hiding for a while, I’m done with being lied to now.
“Meet me at the holding room at noon.”
“Why? I’m supposed to be meeting Dante uptown and–”
“Be there, Knox.” He's got one more chance for honesty.
I end the call and keep driving until the entrance to the main house comes into view. Phillipe Moinez, one of the guards who walks the grounds, nods as I drive through and stands firm at the gates behind me. None of them are really needed anymore. We’re pretty safe up here in this district, but it makes Mother feel safer. Whatever she is to me, or has been, she deserves that. The others won’t understand, but I remember those early years. I was part of it on the streets when we first got here. She ran, with me in tow as a child, and we ended up here.
Parking up, I walk around the back of the mansion and down towards the pool to meet her. She smiles as I get to her, and waves me towards a seat.
“Good morning,” she says.
I nod and pull out a chair. “Is my wife ready?”
She chuckles and stares out at the pool, sipping her orange juice. “I believe she’s getting dressed. Seems odd saying that word and relating it to you. Wife.” I turn to look at the poolrather than her. “I’m still amused that you chose yourself. But I suppose, with Dante becoming useless, it was inevitable and–”
“Be careful, Mother. You know I don’t appreciate your tone about that. Without him, we’d be nothing. Offer him a little more respect in the future or I’ll get frustrated with you.”
She frowns and lowers her sunglasses. “Get a check of yourself, Abel. You are my firstborn, and I will not be tempered by your attitude.”