Page 30 of Alpha-Ex Wedding Ruse
Through gritted teeth and with every ounce of control I had left, I spoke. “I can get you the money. I just need another week. Maybe two.”
“Two weeks?” Blaze’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Do you think this is a charity, Leila? Do you think we’re running a fucking food bank here?”
The way he spat the words, I felt his saliva hit my face. Then he stepped even closer, lowering his face to mine until he was only a hair’s breadth away. I could taste his horrible breath—cigarettes, alcohol, and something that reeked like death itself.
“You know what your problem is?” he said, his toxic breath hot against my face. “You still think you have choices. You still think you can negotiate.”
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. “Have you no conscience?”
I watched as his eyes sparked with amusement before laughterrolled out of him. “Conscience?” He laughed again, like I’d just told the world’s funniest joke. “Conscience is for the weak.”
“Look, Blaze, I work my ass off every day to pay my father’s debt—”
“His debt that became your debt the moment he put a bullet in his brain,” Blaze finished coldly. “Funny how he chose the easy way out and left you to clean up his mess.”
The words cut deeper than any physical wound could. Because they were true. My father had been a coward. He’d chosen death over facing the consequences of his actions, leaving me to shoulder the burden of his two-hundred-thousand-dollar gambling debt to the Tusk Syndicate.
For twelve months now, I’d been paying them three thousand dollars every week—money I could barely afford, money that should have gone to rent, groceries, Ollie’s school supplies. But it was the only arrangement they’d accept. It was either that or pay the full amount within the three-week time frame they’d given me when they showed up at my doorstep to announce my father’s debt.
“You know, I didn’t have the most responsible father, either. Similar to yours, he was an alcoholic. But instead of gambling, he chose theft. He ended up in jail more times than I could count until he eventually got killed during a robbery.”
Am I seriously trauma-bonding with a sociopath right now?
“It’s okay to hate your father, Leila. I did, too. And look where I am now.” He had the audacity to actually smirk. “Hate’s useful. It keeps you motivated.”
Yeah, because threatening children was clearly the pinnacle of motivation. What an inspiration.
“But that doesn’t change the fact that I need more time,” I said.
“Time’s up, sweetheart.” He pulled out his phone and showed me a photo that made my heart stop.
It was Ollie’s school—kids running around the playground during recess. But Ollie hadn’t gone to school today. It was Saturday. Which meant he’d taken this picture another day. He’d been stalking my son. My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.
“See how easy it is?” he drawled, like stalking a child was some kind of achievement. “See how unprotected he is?”
“Don’t you dare—”
“Oh, I dare. I dare a lot of things.” He pocketed the phone with a cold smile. “You have one week, Leila. One week to get me my money, or I start taking payments in other ways.”
The threat hung in the air between us like a loaded weapon. I knew what he meant. I’d heard the stories about what happened to people who crossed the syndicate. What happened to their families.
“I can’t—” I started, but he cut me off.
“You can’t what?”
“For fuck’s sake, Blaze, where do you expect me to find ten grand in under a week?” The words exploded out of me.
Blaze’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you say ten grand?” he asked, his voice like ice. “Was I not clear about what happens when you decide to play hooky with your payments?”
And then it dawned on me. The horrible, crushing realization that made my stomach drop through the floor. I wasn’t going to be paying just ten thousand. I was going to be paying twenty thousand. Double. The contract terms my father had signed stipulated that for every week a payment was missed, the interest doubled. They called it the “inconvenience” charge. Because apparently, financial terrorism came with convenience fees.
“I don’t have that kind of money,” I said desperately. “You know I don’t.”
“Then find it.” His words were final. He brushed past me as he headed toward the door. He reached for the door handle, then paused. “Oh, and Leila? I’m a lot nicer than the boss. Don’t make him crawl out of his hellhole.”
The door slammed behind him, leaving me alone with my terror and the echo of his threats. I stood there for a long moment, feeling like the life had been drained out of me, before I heard Ollie’s footsteps on the stairs.
“Mom? Can we make those cookies now?”
