Page 12 of They All Own Me

"Yes, dear." I start up the stairs, my sundress swishing against my legs. Each step takes me further from the monster below, closer to my sanctuary.

"And Tatum?" His voice follows me up. "Don't ever make me remind you of your place again."

I pause, one hand on the banister. "Of course not, Thomas."

The sound of the study door closing echoes through the house. I continue up the stairs, my mind already racing with plans. Let him think he's won. Let him believe I'm cowed.

Chapter 7

Connor

The chair creaksunder my weight as I shift, checking my phone for the hundredth time. Dominic's leg bounces next to me, an annoying rhythm that's making my teeth grind. Isaac's examining his knuckles like they hold the secrets of the universe.

The door swings open, and Esteban strides in, his presence immediately commanding the room. The scent of his expensive cologne mingles with cigar smoke as he settles behind his mahogany desk.

"That piece of shit senator is dragging his feet." Esteban's accent thickens with his irritation. "Three days, and nothing."

"Maybe he needs another reminder of who he's dealing with," Isaac suggests, cracking his knuckles.

I lean forward. "The westside deal was supposed to be sealed Friday. He's either playing us or he's incompetent."

"Both," Dominic mutters.

Esteban's eyes narrow as he pulls out a cigar. "Connor, what's your read?"

"He's getting cocky. Thinks his position protects him." I run my thumb over my lip piercing. "A little press scandal might adjust his attitude."

"Agreed." He clips the end of his cigar.

"Or we just fuck him up," Isaac suggests. I swear, that mother fucker is always itching to beat the hell out of someone.

"That's an option too," Esteban says with a drag of his cigar. "But nothing visible. Nothing that keeps him from his public appearances. But make sure he understands the consequences of failing to deliver."

"What about his wife?" Dominic asks.

"Leave her be." His tone brooks no argument. "From what I've seen, she's just as clueless about his dealings as the public is. We don't need that kind of attention. Just rough him up enough to get the message across."

"When would you like us to sort this out?" I ask, already planning the logistics.

"As soon as possible." He lights his cigar, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling. "Show him what happens when people waste my fucking time."

"You got it boss," Dom shouts.

The concrete echoes our footsteps as we head toward the car. My fingers twitch against my thigh - something feels off. A shadow moves behind one of the concrete pillars, and I catch a glimpse of someone in dark clothes.

"Hold up." I grab Dom's arm, nodding toward the movement. "We've got company."

Dom's hand slides under his jacket. "Where?"

"Five o'clock. Behind the pillar." The figure shifts again, and metal glints in the dim lighting. "They're taking photos."

"Shit." Isaac moves to circle around, but I catch his sleeve.

"Wait. Let's not spook them." I keep my voice low. "Dom, cut left. Isaac, take right. I'll approach head-on."

My boots scrape against the ground as I walk forward, hands loose at my sides. The figure - definitely female - ducks behind a car. The shutter clicks again.

"You know," I call out, "if you wanted a photo shoot, you could've just asked."

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