Page 17 of The Prodigal

So, this prick, with his hands around a woman’s throat, really pisses me off.

“I need a new set of sheets,” I lie, my eyes never veering off the hand around Eden’s throat as I edge closer to the man responsible for shitting on my night. “Now, you either get them for me, or she does. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck who gets the pleasure. But until I get fresh sheets, Eden’s piss-poor hospitalityismy business.”

The man with a death wish turns to Eden, his brows rising in disbelief.

She shrugs, seemingly answering the man’s silent question. “I’ve tried explaining this isn’t a five-star resort, but he listens about as well as you do, Gerald.”

Quickly, I offer her my trademark look of boredom that I hope she translates properly. I have no reservations about returning to my room and leaving her here with this asshole. Helpfulness is not a trait I enjoy using.

“Well,” the bastard says between gritted teeth, “he better listen now because I don’t like repeating myself.” He flashes me a glare, which brings out the asshole in me.

“Dude, same!” I pitch my voice like some giggling cheerleader before I drop the façade, my face morphing into something far more menacing than he is.

I live for motherfuckers like this—the ones who prey on the weak and unfortunate, taking what they want regardless of the cost. They don’t care whose lives they destroy in the process. And while I’m no saint, my plans for Ms. Da Luca aren’t near as violent and sinister as this man’s.

“I won’t tell you again, boy. Leave.”

His husky voice doesn’t scare me. In fact, it only ramps up my amusement. I want to test him—see if he’s willing to go as far as I am. Only one of us is going to take advantage of Ms. Da Luca here, and it’s not him.

“And if I don’t?” I can sense his apprehension growing.

“This isn’t your business.”

Oh, but it is.

Before I even moved to Georgia, Eden Da Luca was my business.

I tap out a cigarette and light it in the small space between us. “Maybe not, George, but all this threatening you’re doing has me excited.” Truthfully, it’s been a while since someone challenged me. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be a cock tease—” I settle my gaze on Eden, who looks less frightened than when I first walked in here. “Like front desk Eve, here.”

As soon as Eden opens her mouth to argue about her fucking name again, I use the distraction and grab Gerald by the hair, yanking his head back and jabbing my cigarette into his neck. The smell of burnt flesh invades my nose as he roars, latching on to my wrist and inadvertently setting Eden free.

“I’m gonna kill you!”

I press the cigarette deeper. “Now, you’re just turning me on, George. Say it again, but this time, say it like you mean it.”

Gerald struggles under my hold, trying to kick out with his legs, but I’m behind him, and without the use of his head, all he meets is thin air. I wonder if Vance would be impressed. He and my uncle Astor love to fight at the gym. Neither of them is very good at it, but I must admit, when Vance offered me the chance to punch him and Duke in the face, I took the opportunity and enjoyed every round of it.

“I,” Gerald gasps out, “Will.”

I lean in closer. “What’s that?”

“I will kill—”

Gerald and I both jump at the sudden commotion as Eden ruins my damn moment by banging a bat on the counter, crushing the pieces of glass from a broken picture frame.

“Where the fuck was the bat?” I scoff, noticing Eden’s chest rising in a way that sends my mind to the gutter, which immediately pisses me off.

She narrows her eyes. “I dropped it when he choked me.” She sounds like it’s my fault or something.

“Well, what are you waiting for? A proposal? Hit him.”

I can’t believe she had a bat this whole time. And why? Does she play softball while on break?

For fuck’s sake. I can’t even with this girl.

“I’m not going to hit him unless he doesn’t leave.”

Always fucking arguing…I flash her an annoyed look. “Don’t you want to send him a message, just in case he has another brilliant idea and wants to come back and finish the job?”

---