Page 48 of Rugged and Filthy

Maybe my inner voice had a good point, as much as I hated to say it.

After announcing who I’d come to see, I refused to be daunted by the looks the hostess gave me the moment I walked inside. But at that moment I was glad I’d been smart enough to choose a nice outfit instead of appearing as a homeless person ready to steal food from diners’ tables. When I’d dropped Mr. Byrne’s name, her eyes had opened wide as if I’d asked to have a conference with the devil himself. Maybe that’s the way I should look at the meeting. Madden wasn’t a good man by any stretch of the imagination.

But at least she led me to the back of the restaurant and to a table that seemed to be positioned as a throne instead of another seat inside the establishment. The area was even elevated, the four other tables in the same location empty. As I approached, I had a bad feeling pooling in the pit of my stomach.

Madden rose to his feet, his eyes sweeping down the length of me as I’d hoped.

“Ms. O’Rourke. Lovely to finally meet you.”

“Mrs. Donnelly,” I corrected, accepting his handshake and immediately feeling a cold chill washing through me. The man was holding court with two men I’d consider thugs, both dressed in dark attire. Both standing six foot five. And both outweighing me by a solid hundred pounds each if not more. They made bodybuilders look tiny.

“Ah, yes. I’d forgotten you were married and still consider yourself as such. Such a shame about your husband’s tragic death.”

The way he said the words was as if we were old friends when I’d just met him. I refused to give him the satisfaction of any kind of response, pulling my hand away and giving him a harsh look.

“My husband’s death is none of your concern.”

“Of course but from what I’ve heard, it’s just one of so many ugly tragedies in your family’s life. A car coming out of nowhere killing him instantly. Terrible. What a pity. Please, have a drink with me.”

God, the man oozed of slime. A cold shiver drifted down my spine as if he was issuing a subtle threat. Fuck him. I did my best to keep the plastered smile on my face. God knows I’d like to wipe off his.

It was evident I wasn’t going to be able to say no. All he had to do was lift his head and a waitress appeared as if from the shadows, showing off what I knew to be a terribly expensive bottle of wine. I wanted to smack it against the guy’s head for being so presumptuous, but why not enjoy a two-thousand-dollar bottle of wine while I was here? Maybe the deep rich burgundy would loosen his lips, allowing him to tell me what the fuck he wanted from the proposed sale of my papa’s rig.

“Only if you ask nicely,” I told him, yanking the napkin from the table.

He laughed and leaned over the table. “I heard you were formidable.”

“From whom?”

“Why, your father, of course. He told me several things about your life. I almost feel like I know you. What I don’t know, I would certainly enjoy discovering myself.”

Oh, my God. Now the bastard was coming onto me.

“Mmm… What you see is what you get, Mr. Byrne. I’m a hardnosed bitch who refuses to take any guff off a man.” I immediately disliked the man, his smug yet lust-filled look more annoying than any expression I’d seen out of the three musketeers. “Just exactly what do you want?”

“Right to the point. I value and appreciate that in a business partner.”

The waitress seemed way too nervous when pouring a taste for Madden, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other. And all the while he was pontificating over the sample, which made me sick, she was staring at me. What? Did I have food or dental floss between my teeth? I found myself dragging my tongue across the top as if I was subconsciously concerned that was the case.

Jesus Christ.

What did I care?

“Excellent notes of blackberry and a hint of basil. I think you’ll enjoy this, Rylee.” Now the bastard had taken to calling me by my first name. Men of power usually did that kind of stupid shit, acting as if they were superior in every way. What was good for the goose was good for the gander, as my mother used to say.

“Why, I’m certain I will, Madden.”

He seemed almost surprised I’d used his first name, but not unpleasantly so. However, the bastard couldn’t seem to take his eyes off me. I wasn’t certain when was the last time I felt so uncomfortable.

But I refused to show it.

Once the wine was poured, he lifted a glass, his eyes still perusing me, both filled with far too much desire for a man who’d just met me.

“A toast,” he said. “To a wonderful business relationship.”

“I never said I agreed to doing any level of business with you, Madden. In truth, I don’t like your style or your business ethics.”

“My, you are straight and to the point. I do like that about a woman.” He beckoned for the waitress who was hovering as I guessed she had been told to do.

---