Page 28 of White Rabbit

“Either way, I’ll send a car to pick you up at 7pm. I’ve also told them you’ll donate one of your little paintings.”

“What?” I ask, the word sticking in my throat.

“It’s for charity, Ava.” My father gives me an unimpressed look as Elsie enters to clear the plates away.

“No, I understand that. But don’t you think you should have asked me first. What if I had nothing prepared?” I start mentally flipping through the canvas’ I know I have back in my workshop. My recent pieces were inspired by a certain criminal who liked to whisper my name like a prayer. I’m not entirely sure they were suitable for the auction.

“If you have paintings to provide that little dealer on the edge of the Church Quarter, then you surely have one you can spare for a charity auction.”

I freeze. How did he know about that?

When I finished college, I’d wanted to earn my own income rather than live off my parents, and so my mom had helped connect me with an independent art gallery down near St Mary’s church, in the Church Quarter of Newtown.

We’d agreed to keep it from my father, because I knew he wouldn’t approve. He called art a waste and said that I was deluding myself, thinking I could make any real money from it. When I sold my first piece, my mother had cried happy tears with me. It didn’t make me rich, and even if it did, the money wasn’t why I did it. It was to prove to myself that my art wasn’t worthless.

When she died and I received my inheritance, I needed the money even less, but it felt like a connection to her. So, I kept supplying them with pieces sporadically and built a fanbase of sorts.

In the right circles, many of whom would be at the charity auction, my art would do quite well. My anonymity was part of what I loved about it. It gave me the freedom to express myself without worrying about who I was. Who my father was. Where I worked.

He had ruined that with barely a few words.

With a satisfied noise, he leans back in his chair and glances me over. “Now, there is dessert. But perhaps we best skip that? Hmmm?”

Chapter Fifteen

ELIJAH

Chad Wilson doesn’t impress me much. He sits across the table, occasionally running a hand nervously through his muddy brown hair as his light brown eyes flit around the visiting room. One of my people, Nicco Torchino, sits beside him looking bored in his suit as he occasionally checks his watch. It was pretty busy in the visiting room today, which was a good thing, as it meant we were less likely to be overheard as I laid out some expectations for this asshole.

Leaning back in my chair, folding my arms across my chest, I stare at him. This was her type? The person she’d chosen to spend four years of her life with? Why? There’s nothing special about the man. He’s shorter than me, with a slim, wiry frame. Average looking. I’m willing to bet he has an average dick too that he barely knows how to use.

“Who the fuck are you and why am I here?” he asks, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose. I’d read the file on him and knew he often wore contacts, but today Cato and Nicco had picked him up on his way to go for a swim at the gym. He’d tried to resist, but they hadn’t given him much choice in the matter.

I mull over the best way to answer his question. My obsession with Ava had gotten worse. I spent hours poring over the footage of her apartment building. Reading the reports about her daily activity had become part of my routine, and if Beans tried to talk to me during my updates, I became agitated. This was beyond wanting to use her now, it was simply wanting her. She was mine. When I got the fuck out of here, I was going to bind her to me forever.

“You’re here because you’re currently in possession of a title that doesn't belong to you.” Tilting my head, I narrow my eyes at the jumped-up little cunt. Working in finance made him think he was some bigshot, but he had a lot to learn. “Ava Bishop is mine. And you are not fit to be her…boyfriend.”

Boyfriend was a pathetic term, weak and soft, like him. I was going to be her husband. A much more worthy title, but first I needed him out of the picture.

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but stay away from Ava. This little obsession is pathetic.” Chad laughs, and slaps his thigh, looking around to see if anyone else is smiling. Under his breath, he mutters, “I knew something like this would happen.”

Ah yes. The report mentioned that there was some tension in the relationship because of Ava’s role in Ogmore Grange. From what my sources could uncover, he wanted my white rabbit to stay home and be a housewife.

Didn’t he understand that trying to tame a woman like Ava was like trying to reign in the tide? He could no more capture and tie her down than he could with the waves crashing on the shore.

I raise a brow and cross my legs. Reaching forward, I tap my fingers on the table, letting the silence stretch between us.

Finally, I say, “Chad, I obviously didn’t make myself clear enough. You will be the one to stay away, or that new client of yours will vanish. That fancy apartment. The plush lifestyle. All gone. And all of those skeletons in your closet, those dirty little secrets you keep from Ava? I’ll lay them out like an all you can eat buffet.”

The things we’d uncovered on Chad when Cato dug a little deeper hadn’t surprised me, not much surprised me anymore, but they had made me even more sure that he wasn’t worthy of Ava.

I shrug lazily. “That’s before I even lay a finger on you.”

“You’re fucking deranged, man.” His eyes widen, and he glances around as if he thinks I’m going to launch myself across the table at him and rip out his throat. I mean…I’d like to, but we’re in company. Company, I didn’t trust.

Chuckling, I watch him intently and it’s like watching a plant wither as he curls in on himself. “No, I’m the Left Hand and I don’t play well with others. Especially pretentious fuckers who don’t recognize the value of a beautiful, smart woman.”

Chad tries to get to his feet, but a firm hand on his shoulder from Nicco pushes him back down onto his plastic chair and pins him in place.

---