I glance sideways at him, "I’m sorry, Saint."
"For what?"
"For giving the media a chance to tear down your reputation."
"I don’t give a fuck about that."
"And your company, the losses it suffered because of the ensuing media uproar?"
"I managed to shut down most of the journalists who were there that day."
"How?" I turn to him, "Of course, you paid them to stay quiet."
"Just when you think money doesn’t buy everything… It surprises you with how much it does help."
"So, I guess you survived that unscathed then."
"Except for the fact that my wife betrayed me, and handed over the most important piece of evidence of what had turned my life upside down."
I wince, bunching fingers into fists.
"You could have simply asked me. I’d have given the USB to you."
I swing around to face him, "You would have done that?"
"Maybe," he raises a shoulder. "Of course, I’d have extracted my punishment for it."
My toes curl.
"And you’d have loved every minute of it."
His lips twist in that smirk that’s hot and mean, and seems to promise more of all the filthy things that he'd ever done to me.
I fold my hands in my lap, "I’m not coming to your hotel."
"I’m not allowing you to return to that apartment."
"You know where…?" I straighten, "Of course, you do. I’m surprised you don’t own the entire building."
He stays silent.
I turn sideways in my seat, "You do, don’t you? You own the building."
He stays focused on the road.
"What did you offer Amelie this time?"
"Nothing. She refused to help me. I…" he flicks a quick glance, "I used my resources."
"It was too much to hope you’d simply let me leave and get on with my life?"
"What about the life you carry inside of you?"
I pale. "You…you guessed?"
"Weston told me," his features harden.
I stare straight ahead. "You couldn’t crack my riddle that day. Imagine that? You, who are able to solve almost any puzzle. You couldn’t guess the answer."