Page 2 of The Killer Who Kept Me

I waved him away. “Whatever you want.”

He mumbled something under his breath, but I was already out of the room and on my way to the study for a phone call.

The Sky wasone of the most luxurious, expensive, and elite restaurants in all of Eastbury. The owner was a friend…well, maybe friend was pushing it. He was a man who’d had a dream and zero money. He’d pitched the idea of The Sky to me, and I’d loved it, loaned him the money, and because of that I was able to eat there whenever I wanted at no cost. Something Fernando wasn’t completely on board with. As the years went by, he’d become quite rich and the bright-eyed man full of hope and wonder had become a pretentious snob. Not to me, never to me, but it was sad to see someone go from beautiful to ugly.

“Mr. Tancredi.” I peered up and saw a grinning Frazee. Technically Barrett Frazee, but for as long as anyone had known the man, he’d simply gone by his last name.

“Frazee, good to see you.” I stood, we embraced, and we settled in.

Marco was near the bar, and I could see one of Frazee’s men close by.

“Shall we get to the business portion of this meeting, or order first?”

I gestured toward the server. “Let’s get food squared away.”

I ordered beef Wellington, lightly seasoned vegetables, and mashed potatoes. I regarded Frazee as he placed his order.

He was forty; his blond hair reached his shoulders and was streaked with gray. He kept himself fit, but the lines on his face weren’t because he smiled a lot. His blue eyes were dim, and the hard life he’d led made many believe he was older than he appeared. He dressed in expensive suits but I knew what he had in the bank didn’t even come close to my fortune.

Frazee and I couldn’t look more different. I was thirty-two, I didn’t have many lines on my face, and the ones I did were definitely from smiling. My hair was black, cut, and styled at all times. My blues eyes were bright because I saw a future that would always bend to my will, and I didn’t let anything enfeeble me.

The server nodded and left us to our beverages. “Let’s cut to the chase, Frazee. You want more territory, money, and power.”

Frazee snorted into his whiskey. “Don’t we all?”

“No. I have all those things already. I don’t call meetings asking for more.”

The other man sat back, the briefest glare crossing his face before he righted it. “You just go and take it.”

I lifted a shoulder. “If I have to. Otherwise, I like to negotiate.”

“Which demands a meeting.”

I snickered ominously and swallowed the rest of my bourbon. “Negotiations happen when the other party wants something from me, and I only agree if they have something I want.”

“And what do I have that you want, Saros?”

Using my first name would be seen as disrespectful if Frazee’s opinion mattered, but it didn’t. He couldn’t bother me because I wouldn’t let him.

“I want accessibility to PTA.”

Frazee’s brows furrowed. “Pell Tennor Airport? But you have other airports.”

I did. But PTA was important. “PTA is a smaller airport, less eyes on it, and as of three months ago started letting flights in from Brazil. A destination I do a lot of business with.”

“I thought you used the ports as well.”

I nodded. “I do.”

Frazee huffed. “PTA is the only area you don’t own, and you want it.”

“I won’t take it from you, Frazee, I just want access to it whenever I require it.”

“I suspected there was something you wanted, otherwise you’d have never agreed to this meeting.”

I beamed at the man. “Now you’re getting it.”

The server arrived and placed our food in front of us and asked if we needed refills, which we accepted. Once she left to get our drinks, Frazee continued.

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