Page 76 of His Black Onyx

"Finally," Big George grunts from his chair after the door is closed behind us. "The most important component and the last to arrive."

A murmur goes through the room, abruptly stopped when Nate steps forward as if trying to protect me from their ridicule.

"Let's just get started," he says in a strong voice. "What can you tell us?"

George arches an eyebrow at Nate, visibly annoyed by his pushy behavior.

"I spoke to Luca Scivola," he begins, crossing his short arms in front of his fat chest. He throws a look in my direction. "That's one of the underbosses, young lady; try to remember that name."

I frown at him, pressing my lips together to stop myself from snarling a sassy remark back at him. I hate the condescending way he treats me. It makes me feel small and stupid. But I also know that that's exactly how he wants me to feel. A man like him wants to make everyone around him feel that way.

"He's Flavio's father," George goes on, still talking directly to me. "The young man you're supposed to marry."

I nod, if only to signal understanding, not agreement. I know that this wedding will never happen, one way or the other—and everyone else in this room should know that, too.

"They were quite excited to hear that we're finally ready to settle on a date for the rendezvous, especially after we've stalled them for so long," he continues, finally averting his eyes from me to scan the rest of the room. "Can't blame them, can we? I tried to buy us some time, but we've been doing that for too long. Lailah is of age, in their eyes, so there's no reason why the deal shouldn't be completed as soon as possible."

He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable as he lowers his furrowed gaze.

"So, when is the rendezvous?" Nate presses, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. He has been fidgeting next to me ever since Big George started talking, and I wonder if I'm the only one who noticed. But once I glance over to Lailah, it seems pretty clear that she noticed it, too. She's casting us a look from the side, her expression stern and apprehensive as she watches Nate. I don't think I will ever particularly like her—for many reasons—but there's a silent bond between us, seemingly pulling us closer when our eyes meet for a split second. It may be a weak bond, not grown out of fondness but just some shared knowledge that's a secret to everyone else in the room, but it's still there and very palpable.

"In a week," George finally says, evoking another murmur throughout the room, this time louder than before. "They want to meet up in exactly one week."

"That's not possible," Nate insists, much to my surprise. Wasn't he the one who kept insisting that we don't have much time? That I have to learn everything there is to learn about this mission within just a few days?

"It has to be," his boss insists. "I already agreed to it."

Nate huffs angrily, curling his hands into fists while his eyes rest on the ground in front of us.

"What, you suddenly lost confidence in your little puppet?" Daveed snarls from the side, a dirty smirk on his face.

"You watch your mouth!" Nate barks at him. He raises his fist and starts lunging toward Daveed, who raises his hands in a defensive motion.

"Both of you, shut it!" George interjects, jumping up from his chair so suddenly that it almost falls over behind him. "Focus, for fuck's sake!"

Nate and Daveed glare at each other in a silent, hate-filled stare, but then they both retreat reluctantly.

Awkward silence stretches between all of us, the entire room strained by the tension between the two angry men. I cough slightly, drawing everyone's attention to me before I can reconsider my decision to speak.

I swallow dryly, gathering all the courage I have to meet Big George's penetrating gaze to ask my question.

"This rendezvous," I begin, my voice low, but steady. "Tell us what it will look like."

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