Page 14 of Vermilion Desire

Braxton’s eyes fall to Scarletta’s short figure. His eyes shine with something indescribable, and a growl erupts from my chest, chilling the atmosphere around us.

“Indeed,” he agrees with that self-absorbed jab from Scarletta. “I believe in karma.”

“Well,” she gasps. “Does that mean you’re here to pay for everyone’s groceries to atone for your misfortunes?”

“I have not done anything immoral, miss.” The mockery and the faux hurt is a show he puts on for his ignorant fans.

These are the type of people who shouldn’t have any sympathy from others when they are pulled into a dumb pyramid scam.

Scarletta haunts, getting a twitch on his groomed eyebrow and a tight-lipped smile. “So, you’re not as generous as you say you are if you aren’t even willing to help out these poor civilians.”

“Of course not, I was planning on doing it as a sign of good faith.”

Braxton’s perfectionist façade begins to shatter. It’s only a little bit, but he’s riled, and this is the first time I have seen anything less than a controlled presence from him.

“I’m sure your dear fans will appreciate you giving out your hard-earned money to ward off misfortunes.” Scarletta lays her head on my arm, haunting him with more not-so-subtle jabs.

“I do not have misfortunes. These hands are pure, made from the history of Berkshire, and they are valued for greater things.”

In our first interrogation before he called for his lawyer, he had not cracked under any pressure we put on him, and that’s when we knew that he wasn’t too right in the head. Normal people would show something on their face, but he was nothing but a plain surface.

It’s pleasing to see the man trying to compose himself with another thin smile.

Scarletta throws in another blow. “That’s what guilty consciences say, and I wouldn’t put too much value on inbreeding in today’s society.”

When our background check comes back, we don’t look at genetics going that deep, and that small information gets a round of gasps from his fans and another piece of his perfect façade falls.

“You are different, miss.” He claps his hand as if he is praising her for her hard work on finding out another dirty little secret in his family.

Family heritage is public knowledge, and with a name as big as Berkshire, people are very interested.

“If you think having an opinion is different, then I hate to know what you call those who are actively opposing you.” She shrugs nonchalantly.

I enjoy seeing the bastard get knocked off his high horse. I want to find a time to study her more closely because there is so much that I could learn from her to help me get better at interrogating suspects.

“They just need the right guidance, and my piano will make them take the blindfold off their eyes.” Berkshire tips his chin up, a symbolic image of rich looking down at the poor.

She yanks my arm for me to leave with her. “Yikes. Delusional too.”

The crowd parts a way for us to move through. There is a piercing stare at the back of my neck, and I don’t have to turn around to know that he is pissed. Scarletta isn’t like me; she stops at the automatic doors and stares straight at him.

He doesn’t catch up to us; his body is firmly stuck where he is before. He only turned around, eyes burning with anger but with his fan’s favorite smile.

Braxton reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a white card, probably his business card, and jerks it up to motion Scarletta to receive it. She is not a dog, and she refuses to be treated as one, so she simply mimics that symbolic fuck-you chin tip to him.

His jaw clenches, and an uncontrollable grin of gleeful satisfaction flares in my chest. Scarletta is my good girl, a brave and smart girl who just challenged one of the most powerful men in the United States.

Braxton takes that challenge with one right leg taking a small step, then he stops and retreats. It’s an awful sight and uncommon for him to not have the last laugh when he knowingly wasted police resources during his time in interrogation when he hasn’t called his big shot attorney yet.

He likes to play games, but Braxton is backing down for some reason.

“Oh?” She thrums her nails on my arm, a smile on her lips when she notices his sudden retreat too. “Yes, yes, very curious.”

For a split second, he glares and shows his true colors. Her nails dig into my arm with a sharp inhale, and his face returns to the perfection he displays while I glance down to Scarletta’s wild glint in those amber hues.

We leave the store without any further ado, following the sidewalk back to our home. I’m still attempting to get all that scene into my head and find out what really happened.

That was too enjoyable.

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