Page 4 of Resisting Royal

CHAPTER 3

ROYAL

“I said, where’s my money, Frank?” The older gentleman in front of me quivered, his body visibly shaken just by my tone.

“I don’t have it,” he admitted, and I couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to be in his shoes, a poor piece of scum continuously making wrong decisions.

“I gave you an extra month.” I slammed my hand down on the desk, the sound vibrating through the room.

“Yes . . . but . . .” he paused, sucking in some air through his bloodied lip. “I had it. I did. But I thought I could just double it; it was a sure bet.”

It’s funny how they always seemed to think something was a sure bet, yet they found themselves groveling at my feet, begging for mercy when mercy had finally run out. “If it was a sure bet, where’s my money?”

He gulped. I visibly saw it. “I lost it.”

“What do you mean you lost it?” I roared, he flinched.

“Well, you see . . . I . . . Um . . .” The stuttering was getting old.

“Spit it out!” I demanded.

“I had your money, and I doubled it,” he confessed.

I grunted my annoyance, “So where is it, Frank?”

His eyes dropped to the floor. “I placed another bet, all or nothing, and I lost it all. All of it. I couldn’t get it back.”

I stepped around the desk, then rested against the front with my feet crossed at the ankles. The moment I got close to Frank, my guys flanked his sides, ensuring he wouldn’t try anything stupid. “So just so we are clear, you bet money you didn’t have—my money—and lost it all?”

He whimpered, an honest to god whimper. “Yes.”

“Frank,” I groaned. “Why would you do it?”

He bit his lip, uncertainty clouding his face. If only he realized now was not the time for doubt. He should have thought about the consequences before betting my payment away. But I guess that’s the problem with addiction; your desire for the next thrill clouds your judgment. You can’t think of the consequences when your mind is entirely on the thrill of the outcome. You want so badly to come out on top that you would believe any word that proves in your favor.

“I don’t . . . I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

“Frank, you’re going to have to give me something.” I took a step closer. He held his hand up in fear, two fingers dangling at the most peculiar angles. “What can you offer me?”

Just asking the question caused him to flinch and pull away, making me wonder just how deep he really was. Was I the only guy he owed? “I . . . I’ve got nothing.”

“You have to have something. I don’t really want to kill you. I like this suit, and somehow, I always manage to get my clothes stained with blood flecks, no matter how hard I try not to.” The mention of death didn’t have this guy begging for his life like they usually did; instead, he broke down in massive hysterical sobs, his whole body wracked with their force.

“Fuck, Frank. I haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re taking it like a little girl whose nail polish spilled.” I walked around his chair while taking off my blazer.

“It’s just that, I have nothing.” He sobbed again, already repeating the information he gave me.

At this point, I was willing to take anything as a compromise to buy him time. We could work out the value later. I liked to think I was a reasonable guy. I honestly didn’t like killing, and that was my last resort. A life for a debt, it seemed fair. “Do you own a house?”

He looked down at my feet. “I sold it a few years back.”

“A car?” I snapped my fingers in front of his face, hating not having eye contact.

He shook his head furiously. “No. Well, yes. But it doesn’t run. It broke down a week ago, and it’s been sitting in the dime store parking lot on Eight and Main.”

“Nothing. You quite literally have nothing, and yet you bet my money, money that was not yours to spend. Are you even shocked that you’re sitting here broken and bleeding at my feet?” I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Did people honestly think their life mattered to me over money?

“Troy, wallet.” My right-hand man reached inside his pants, pulling out the leather billfold, then tossed it to me. “Leather, huh, at least you don’t skimp.”

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