Page 152 of Scandalous Contract
“Nothing can make me think less of you.”
“Even if I did something bad?”
“Today, I almost strangled a man to death for not wanting to pay our company full price because he claimed we set the job up wrong.”
“Did you?”
“My team are professionals. If they’d done it wrong, they would’ve fixed it. They didn’t do it wrong.”
“So, you strangled him to get him to pay you.”
“I did.”
“At least you didn’t kill him.”
“I killed his right-hand man for pulling a gun on me when I strangled his boss.”
My eyes widened. “You... you did?”
“I did,” he told me, tone casual, as if we weren’t discussing a murder.
“What did you do with the body?” I asked, curious.
“I have people who take care of bodies for me.”
I don’t know why I asked that. I’d already known the answer.
“Do you think less of me?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Why?” he questioned.
“Do you want me to think less of you?”
“No. I want to know what’s keeping you from thinking less of me.”
I stared down briefly before meeting his gaze again and answering his question.
“I don’t think less of you for strangling the man because he deserved it. He was trying to cheat you. And if you’d let him get away with it, he would’ve tried again. Or, he would’ve told others about what he’d done, and they would’ve tried the same thing. As for the man you killed...” I paused, wondering if I should share my true thoughts.
“What about the man I killed?” he asked, gaze peering into mine. “Did he deserve it?”
“I should say no. That’s the right answer. I’m sure you could’ve handled it another way, a less violent way.”
“But I didn’t,” he told me.
“I know. Which means you have no patience for fuck ups or for those who try to hurt you and your business. My past taught me that kindness can be seen as weakness. And if you let people treat you any kind of way, they’ll take it a step further and treat you even worse. So, no, I don’t think less of you. If that guy wanted to live, he should’ve handled things differently.”
“But I took a life,” he told me.
And I couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted me to condemn him for his actions. I should. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t see his actions as wrong, even though I’m sure that thought made me toxic as fuck.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, bringing my hand to rest against his cheek. “But I can’t find anything wrong with what you did.”
“I murdered someone.”
“I know.”
