Page 34 of When Sinners Hate
I close my cutlery, down my drink, and look around the restaurant under a sigh. If she thinks I’m talking about that with her, here or anywhere else, she’s wrong. “Time to go.”
Her hand comes across the table, fingers closing over mine. “Abel, don't. I think this is one of the first real conversation we’ve had. You liked hearing something about me. And I’m not trying to pry, just understand you. It must have been hard for you. Confusing. Different fathers, let alone aMadam for a mother.” She pauses. “What about your real father? Who was he?”
“He's dead.”
“I know that but–” I tune the rest out and look at her mouth moving. Some part of me wants to smile at her attempt to wheedle her way in, but that's not happening. Certainly not tonight after a hard day and all that shit with Knox about Logan Cane. She’ll get nothing sentimental or emotional from me unless I can trust her not to use it against me. At the moment, trust is wearing thin with my own family, let alone her.
“What do you do, Alexia?”
“What?”
I stand and point to the bar, crooking my finger at her to follow me over to the private area behind it. “You asked earlier if you could do something. What, exactly, are you capable of doing?” I signal Mike – the barkeep – on the way past the bar, two fingers up in the air for another round of drinks.
She falls in behind me and waits for me to find a table in the Club area. “Well, I can do a lot of things.”
“Really? What?”
“You want my resume? You know, none of you make it easy to be involved in family business, but I’m more than just my body and my looks.”
I pull a chair out for her and take my own seat. “Believe it or not, I’m well aware of the capabilities that body gives you. You're not unlike Mariana or Mother in that respect, but what I can’t stand is the fact that someone I don’t trust is in the middle of my life.”
“You could try a little faith?”
“Faith?” A chuckle rumbles through me. “Faith and I parted ways long ago.” The drinks arrive and I down mine, glass up in the air immediately so Mike will get me another. Damn, I needed that. Feels like life’s a constant fucking battlegroundlately. Still, it's never been any different. Brothers fighting. Mother scheming. Mariana pushing. Day after day of business and death and girls and problems chasing my ass. And now a wife to deal with.
I sigh again and stare at the look of her perched over there all pretty and perfect – my wife. “You really are stunning, aren’t you?” Her eyebrows shoot upwards, surprise evident.
“Why, thank you. It’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s not a fucking compliment. Do you know how many pretty women I've looked at over the years? Thousands. Redheads. Blondes. Brunettes. Row after row of pussy. Most of them begged and pleaded. Some tried this same kind of bullshit you're pulling. None of it worked on me. Maybe if you’d had a mother to guide you, you would have learnt that not all men bow to sex appeal. She ran off though, didn't she? Left you with your father knowing exactly what would happen to you. Weak-ass bitch.”
“I see you've done some research of your own.”
I nod, as my next drink arrives in front of me. I down that one, too, and look back at the bar for Mike again. He nods and brings me the bottle. “I think I’m about to get real fucking drunk.”
“Wow. Not the Abel I thought would join us tonight. This is interesting,” she says.
“You think? I’d run if I was you.” No one likes me much in this mood, and she sure as hell isn’t gonna like me if I get my hands on her scheming ass. I pour a healthy double and pick it up. “Go home, Alexia.”
“Oh no, I think I’ll stay for whatever this is. Could be fun.”
My eyes roll and I stare out at the view. “You don’t get it, do you? But why should you? You’ve never been anything but a bartering chip passed around to anyone who wanted you. No real responsibility. No fucking point in reality.” My gaze comesback to her, and I watch as her face starts taking offence. I knock the drink back and pour again. “You don’t know anything about respect, or loyalty, or love, or any other fucking emotion that should be relevant in life.”
She doesn’t. Maybe she was never taught it. She should have been. That's what family is.
Another drink slips past my lips, and I keep staring into the night sky around me through the window. I feel alone even though she's here. Always do, regardless of family.
“Perhaps if you gave me half a chance to prove myself, you'd find more than you're giving me credit for,” she says.
A bitter chuckle ebbs through me, and I sink another drink. She wants a chance. I don't have any space inside me for chances. My life is hassle and never-ending problems. I need certainty. Especially from someone who is supposed to be by my side rather than plotting my fucking downfall. “If you're here for vengeance, you should think again. Your father is a piece of shit and your brother deserved to die, Alexia. He took something that wasn’t his to take. He touched something that wasn’t his to touch. He violated a part of me so deeply ingrained that he lost his chance for life the second he did it. If Dante hadn't gutted him for daring, I would have.”
I look back at her, not caring a damn about her reaction to anything. Or maybe I do. Maybe that's why I've bothered saying anything at all. Maybe I'm tired of yet another goddamn battleground and trying to navigate it. Either way, I’m done talking. Maybe I’m done with her too. I don't know anything at the moment. I just want to drink until I can't see straight. Maybe clarity will come tomorrow. Maybe some goddamn peace will follow it. “Take the fucking car. Go home.”
Because I need to wallow in my own space.
I need to be alone.
~