Page 82 of Forgotten Comeback
Taylor crosses her arms. “True, but I lost all my possessions because of you. Not to mention the fucking emotional distress you put me through.”
I slip my hands in my pockets. “I’m sorry, but if I would’ve treated you differently from Kat, she would’ve known something was up between us. Kat would have told her hubby, and you wouldn’t be here chucking objects at my head.”
She chucks another paintbrush at me, and I dodge. “We can negotiate your loss amount; that’s not a problem.”
“How do you have authority to negotiate any of this?” Taylor demands.
I remain silent.
“The masked man at the warehouse, that was Inferno. The man who runs the parties,” she guesses.
Again, I go with silence.
“Let me make sure I’m understanding the offer,” she says with narrowed eyes. “You want me to give up a safe job at the Diamond and come work for you and a masked man at an illegal underground boxing league.”
I lift a shoulder. “You wanted to be the exclusive ring girl, remember?”
Her hands fall to her curvy hips. “It’s not like you’re lacking in options. Go ask a member of your Ace’s fan club.”
All the playfulness vanishes from me. “The Parisis burned down Ace’s.”
“What?” Taylor gasps. “Gavin, why did you start a war with the mob?”
“You need the money,” I continue. “Your medical debt isn’t going to repay itself.”
“That will be the least of my problems when you get me killed!” She glances at the wadded up photographic evidence of her complicity; how it would look to the Parisi family, anyway.
“The Parisis won’t find out about our arrangement,” I say smoothly.
“What if they do?” Taylor press.
“Then mi lady can throw-ith me under-ith the bus. If you’re pressed, tell them I coerced you.”
“Not your lady, and I am being coerced!”
“Is that a yes?” I press her.
Her hand flies to her forehead. “You’re seriously going to get me killed.”
I cross my arms. “My track record proves otherwise.”
“Every dangerous situation I’ve been in is because of you!”
“You’re welcome,” I smirk.
“Oh my God, what should I be thanking you for this time?” Taylor asks wearily.
“Bringing some much needed excitement to your life. Being your artistic muse. Take your pick.”
She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t deny it.
“Think about it,” I continue, making my case. “You no longer have to work a job you hate. More time to devote to your art. And last but not least, getting out of financial prison.” Having done my homework, I know Taylor’s drowning in debt. “All that while enjoying my pretty face.”
She snarls at me, which only goads me on.
“What’s it going to be, man-eater? Does Venom need to see this photo?” I scoop the crumbled-up photo and smooth out the edges. “Not that it isn’t flattering. Perfect side profile of my handsome face.”
She flings another paintbrush at said handsome face.
