Page 84 of Handsome Devil
“I know that satisfied glow Tate gets when he ruins someone’s life.” Rhyland circled my face with the hand that held his beer. “I don’t see it right now. Plus, Gia doesn’t have rabies.”
“I made an honest woman out of her before we slept together.” I leaned back on the sticky vinyl couch. I was going to bathe in fucking bleach after visiting here. “Don’t see the problem in that.”
“A lying bastard like you can’t make anything honest.” Rhyland shook his head. “Not even a sweet girl like Gia.”
He’d think that, of course. I screwed him out of millions of dollars while he was pursuing Dylan, his wife. After all, one man’s weakness was another one’s treasure.
“Does this mean you’re faithful?” Row cocked his head in surprise.
I signaled for a spotty waitress with a dress far too short for anywhere other than the red-light district to get us another round, keeping my exasperation in check.
I was about as fond of Row and Rhyland as I was of ingrown toenails, but Gia cared for their wives, so I guessed I couldn’t add them to my hit list.
“She satisfies all my needs.”
“Is that a declaration of love?” Rhyland retied his man bun.
“Love is a weakness. I do not engage in such foolishness.”
But I didn’t hate her anymore. Not completely, anyway.
She didn’t notify the authorities I murdered Duffy, and I did appreciate the honied nectar of her cunt. She was a mild nuisance now, no longer the bane of my existence.
I checked my phone for messages.
Luca: She is being trailed by Enzo and Filippo. More protected than Fort Knox.
I’d asked if Gia was safe tonight.
Tate: Send three more men to err on the safe side.
Luca: Your wife won’t like that.
Tate: I’d rather have her angry and alive than pacified and dead.
Meanwhile, Row, Rhyland, and Kieran were bickering about football. Or was it soccer? Either way, I’d be bored to tears if my body could produce them.
I allowed my thoughts to drift into more pressing matters. I would eat fish when I returned home. Yes, fish and broccoli. Then I’d do some equations. Count the number of tiles in mybedroom again. Read a few paragraphs inAlice’s Adventures in Wonderland. That would relieve me of the tension of knowing my wife was out there, prey to Tiernan Callaghan. I didn’t need Dr. Patel, with his intrusive questions and over-the-top diagnosis. I was fucking fine.
See? Fantastic.
My phone pinged in my fist.
I glowered at a notification from my bank. It alerted me via text every time someone made a transaction on my black card for over ten grand.
Garia Desert Collection Golf Cart x 2, $34,598.
I cocked my head sideways. I didn’t remember buying—
Ping.
St. Marton Cay, Private Island, The Exumas, Bahamas, Caribbean, $13,498,229.
My jaw went slack.
Gia bought a fucking private island. On my card. What the hell did she think she’d do with a private isla—
Ping.
