Page 19 of Ruthless Arrangement

“Your right hand contains twenty-seven bones,” I inform him, my tone conversational despite the tension vibrating through the room. “Fourteen phalanges, the bones in your fingers. Five metacarpals in the palm. Eight carpal bones in the wrist.” I grasp his index finger, the skin clammy with sweat, and bend it sharply backward. The resistance gives way with a satisfying snap of bone beneath my hands. His scream resonates through the soundproofed room, high and thin with shock more than pain. That will come later.

“That’s one,” I say calmly.

The middle finger follows, then the ring finger, each break executed with precise, controlled pressure. Reeves is sobbing now, his knees buckling so that only Marco’s grip keeps him upright. The sound of his distress fades into background noise, irrelevant to the task at hand.

I pause before breaking the pinky, glancing toward Lea. She sits rigidly upright. Her face is pale, one hand pressed against her mouth as if stifling a wave of nausea. It’s her eyes that catch my interest, though. Her eyes are wide, fixed on the scene with a disturbing blend of horror and fascination. Not looking away. Not even trying to. A thrill of satisfaction stirs within me.She’s not averting her gaze. She’s absorbing it.

I return my attention to Reeves, completing the set with his little finger. Four clean breaks, each one deliberate, each one a message written in pain and bone.

“Listen,” I tell him, leaning close to ensure my words penetrate the haze of his agony. “If you ever lay a hand on Jasmine, or any of my women again, I will ensure that every bone in your left hand suffers the same fate. And then I’ll start on the ones that keep you walking upright. Do you understand?”

He nods frantically, tears and mucus streaming down his face. Pathetic. Men who prey on the vulnerable always are once stripped of their imagined power.

“Good.” I step back, straightening my cuffs. “My associate will arrange medical attention for you. The doctors are very discreet. Very skilled, too, though I’m afraid you might have to cancel a couple of gigs at the Blue Note, just like I had to replace Jasmine in my act for the next week or two, thanks to you.”

I nod to the security team. “Escort him out via the service entrance. And make sure he understands that tonight’s conversation remains private.”

They move forward, taking the sobbing man from Marco’s grip and half-dragging him toward the door. As they exit, I turn back to Lea, studying her reaction with genuine curiosity. She remains seated; her knuckles are white where she grips the arms of the chair, her eyes fixed on the spot where Reeves had stood.

“Think carefully,” I tell her, my voice dangerously soft, “about how much of that you want to put in your article.”

She looks up then, her composure fragmenting before forcing itself back together through sheer will. “Was that supposed to scare me?” she asks, her voice steadier than I might have expected.

“No,” I reply honestly. “It was supposed to educate you.” I move closer, noting how she tenses but doesn’t retreat. “You wanted access to my world, Ms. Song. This is it. Not the champagne and VIP tables. Not the music and beautiful people. This.” I gesture to the space where Reeves had stood. “Order maintained through consequence. Respect enforced through example.”

She swallows hard, her reporter’s instinct fighting against what she’s just witnessed. “He deserved punishment,” she says finally. “What he did to Jasmine was wrong. But this?”

“Was efficient,” I finish for her. “He won’t touch her again. He won’t touch any woman again. One moment of discomfort for preventing future violence.” I tilt my head. “Isn’t that a fair trade?”

“Discomfort?” She almost laughs, the sound strangled in her throat. “You broke his hand. His career.”

“I broke the hand he used to hurt someone under my protection,” I correct. “His left hand remains perfectly functional for chording. Perhaps he’ll develop a new style. Adversity breeds innovation, after all.”

I can see her struggling with the moral calculus, the part of her that recognizes the justice in Reeves facing consequences warring with her socialized understanding of acceptable punishment. The conflict makes her even more fascinating to watch.

“You could have called the police,” she suggests, though her tone lacks conviction.

This time I do laugh, the sound genuinely amused. “And what would they have done? Taken a report? Held him overnight? Released him with a warning?” I shake my head. “The system you believe in fails women like Jasmine every day. My system doesn’t.”

She has no immediate response to that, her eyes dropping to the new phone still clutched in her hand. I watch her processing, recalibrating, adjusting her understanding of exactly what she’s walked into when she agreed to my terms.

“Our schedule for the evening continues downstairs,” I say after allowing her a moment to collect herself. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet; someone who might provide a valuable perspective for your article.”

Lea rises, her movements careful, controlled. Whatever she’s feeling, she’s determined not to show weakness. I admire that, even as I recognize it as the same pride that will eventually bring her fully into my world.

“And if I decide I’ve seen enough for one night?” she asks, an ultimate test of boundaries.

I smile, not bothering to hide the predatory edge. “Then our arrangement ends. You walk out with a partial story and limited understanding. Enough to write something, perhaps, but not enough to matter.” I step closer, close enough to catch her perfume, something subtle and floral that suits her perfectly. “But you won’t. Because you need this story more than you’re disturbed by my methods. Don’t you, Lea?”

Using her first name, deliberate and intimate, lands as intended. A flush creeps up her neck, her pupils dilating despite her efforts to maintain professional distance.

“I need the truth,” she counters, lifting her chin. “Whatever it is.”

“Then follow me,” I say, gesturing toward the door. “And prepare yourself. The night is just beginning.”

CHAPTERSEVEN

Lea

---