Page 55 of The Queen
Eliza beams at him, and it takes everything I have not to burst out laughing.
Richards narrows his eyes and licks his lips. “I haven’t got it,” he says, turning back to me.
“Find it.” My tone is like ice, and he inadvertently takes a step back. “Now.”
“I—I can’t get it until tomorrow.”
“Tough shit. I want it now. You knew this was coming, Richards. Trust me, you do not want me to go back to my dad and tell him you didn’t pay up. Again.”
“I paid last time!”
“A day late, so the penalty is now payment a day early. Why am I telling you this again?”
Eliza, having had enough of this BS apparently, steps forward with Flick in her hand. She presses the blade to Richards’s throat, and her voice drops a tone darker, filled with the kind of danger that radiates from her entire being. “You seem to be misunderstanding the situation. We’re not leaving without what we came for.”
Richards swallows hard, and I can see the imprint of the blade on his scrawny neck.
“She’s out for blood. I’d find that cash A-SAP.”
She pulls back just a fraction, allowing him to breathe a bit easier, but her intent is clear in her eyes, twisting the knife just enough to see him sweat.
Richards glances between us, now truly realising the depth of shit he’s in. “I... I have some cash in the safe. I can give you that as a down payment.”
“That’ll do for now,” I state, and Eliza steps back but keeps Flick where Richards can see her.
Richards hurries off and returns with a bag, which he hands to me. “It’s all there. We found the extra…”
“Sure you did,” I murmur and make a show of opening the bag and counting out the five grand. It’s not a lot. It’s a pittance really to what some people pay not to have their kneecaps smashed in, but it keeps him in line.
“Thanks, Councilman. We’ll be back next week,” I state and step back as he slams the door in our faces.
“Councilman. Knew he looked familiar,” Eliza mutters as I throw the bag over the gates and follow it swiftly. She is close behind me, and we climb back into the Jeep. “We going to your dad now?”
“Nah, this is mine.”
“Oh, nice. Daddy treats you well.”
Snickering, I start up the car. “Like yours doesn’t?”
“Touché. Where to now then?”
“Back home.” The two words darken her eyes as she gets my meaning, but while sex is definitely a perk, I want to sit with her first and talk.
The drive home is short, my hand resting on her thigh as she stares out at the sunset. Pulling up on the driveway at home, I close the gates behind us and take her hand and the bag as we enter the house.
The door clicks shut behind us, the silence wrapping around us like a thick blanket.
“Finally, some peace,” I say, tossing my keys on the hall table and the bag on the floor.
Eliza smiles, but her eyes are tired. The kind of exhaustion that doesn’t get fixed with a nap or a good night’s sleep. It’s deep, carved into her like lines in marble.
We walk over to the plush couch and sit, the cushion sinking beneath us, close enough that I can feel the heat from her skin but not touching. Not yet.
I glance at her profile, the way her chestnut hair falls in waves, catching the light. No matter how tough things get, how dirty we have to play, there’s something about Eliza that never seems to lose its shine.
“Oliver, do you ever think about taking a different path?” She turns to look at me, her green eyes piercing.
“All the time,” I admit. It feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, exposing the parts of me that dream beyond the mafia mess we’re tangled in.
