Page 42 of Sweet Nightmares
Jane flashed Giselle a,Sorry, I have to handle thislook before stepping through the doorway and saying, “Touch her, and I will kill you.”
“I would enjoy watching you try.”
Emrys stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning against one of the four-poster banisters, his body pointing at François, who was sitting at the table next to his bed where he typically took his breakfast and did his morning job tasks. As his room was in the Russet, the walls and ceilings were still formed from rock crystals.
“Ah, Jane, just the person I wanted to see,” François said. “I believe there is a fiery brunette storming through the casino at the moment. Will you handle that?”
Jane’s eyes flew to the ceiling. Men. Always so dramatic. “There is no need.”
“So you have already handled it?”
“I don’t need to. She is not going to break anything at your casino.” Jane rubbed her face, exasperated. “If I know her well—and I do—she will go home and plan a long and torturous way of getting her revenge on you, which you will deserve. A virgin, François? You’re better than that.”
François sat back in the chair next to his bed. “And how do you know all that?”
“She’s my sister’s best friend. The sister”—she glared at Emrys—“who you are going to stay away from.”
Emrys’s eyebrows wiggled, and he flashed a taunting smile. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I do love to fuck…”
“He has no qualms about deflowering virgins, either.” François tapped his fingers on his table. “That’s the difference between him and me. I don’t fuck virgins—save the mistake that just walked out of my room—and I don’t sleep with a new person every night. She was the first one I’ve been with in nine months.”
“If you’re superior to me, then why toss her out? Half naked, I might add.”
François dragged his finger along the wooden edge of his table. “Because while she was fascinating, she was also the most tempting piece I’ve had in a long time. She’s a distraction and not worthy of my time. She’s not…”
Emrys crossed his arms across his chest. “For often being the smartest man in the room, you can be very obtuse.”
“You’re saying I’m smarter than you?”
Emrys let out a deep chuckle. “On many occasions, yes. Today, you were not. You were cruel.”
“No more than you are or anyone else here. I am a businessman. I run nine immensely successful enterprises.Some legal, some illegal, I don’t have time to deal with the emotions of a girl I fucked, no matter how good it was.”
“Seems wasteful.” Emrys shook his head. “If she’s a good fuck, you should have kept her around for a while. But you wouldn’t do that because then you might grow attached.”
“I’ve only been attached to two people in my life.” François’s voice darkened. “One’s in prison, and the other one is dead. I have no interest in attachments now.”
“Your loss.”
Jane stepped into the room closer. “If you two are done. I have some business to address.”
François pitched his chin down slightly and motioned for her to go on. So Jane gave her fully practiced speech, going over all three issues she needed to address.
François moved quickly on her information, particularly about the traitor in their organization. An hour later, Jane stood next to him in the deepest parts of the Casino, beneath the water pools and gorgeous sights—in the pits of despair—as he tortured his underling, who was tied to a chair, into a full confession. The whole time, Jane stood stoically by her boss’s side, even handing him tools when he needed them.
It only took ten minutes for him to start saying everything. Apparently, he preferred keeping his fingernails and teeth on his body.
“Jane, shoot him in the head.” François removed his gun from its holster and held it out to her.
Jane swallowed and stared first at her boss and then at the gun dangling from his hand. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Without any more hesitation, she grasped the gun from François, cocked it, pointed at the man’s head, and pulled the trigger. He should have known better. Everyone knew stealing from a gang was punishable by death.
“Good.” François dipped his chin in approval. “You will take over the Black Market.” With that, François turned on his heel and walked out. Not cleaning up his mess or saying another word.
Jane gulped and looked at her murder victim, but dread didn’t slide over her body. She didn’t feel anything. But goosebumps rose on her flesh. Not because she was a killer, but because the honor that François had just bestowed on her was massive.
