Page 30 of Tank
He holds my gaze, each of us testing the other’s nerves, and then he gestures to a few pieces in the display case. I pick them out, my movements brisk and calculated, stuffing them in the bag before I shove it across the counter toward him. “Fifteen bucks.”
One of his men sneers. “No discount for the boss?”
“I don’t do discounts.”
Moretti lets out a low, amused chuckle, the kind that burns at my insides like acid. Then he reaches into his pocket with an infuriating casualness, the deliberate nonchalance of a man who thinks he owns the world and everyone in it. He pulls out a twenty and slides it across the counter.
“Keep the change.”
I don’t touch it until he’s already walking away. Even think about not touching it at all — fuck him and his dirty money — but then I remember I am running a fucking business, and I won’t give product to assholes like him for free.
Moretti heads for the door, his footsteps measured, the controlled gait of someone who believes he’s still in control. I know better. I know this was only the opening move and that he can’t even fathom what I have in store for him. With the bag of food in hand, he pauses just before he steps outside.
He turns his head, just enough to look over his shoulder at me. Something dark flickers across his expression, a cold promise of trouble. “I want us to be good neighbors. One of the business I run, it ain’t far down the street, and I take an interest in supporting my community. I’m always around. So, you ever need anything… let me know.”
Then he’s gone.
I wait until they’re fully gone, until I see them drive off down the street.
Only then do I move.
Fueled by rage, I push through the back door of the bakery, finding Bianca exactly where I knew she’d be.
Pressed against the wall, her face pale, her breathing shallow.
I step closer, my voice low, sharp. “You good?”
She snaps out of it, lifts her chin, forces a scowl onto her face. “I know how to handle guys like him.”
My jaw ticks. Of course she does — she fucking grew up beside him. Still, the fear in her eyes seems genuine, and I doubt she’s that good of an actress. I take another step, closing the distance. “You’re accepting my help with the fundraiser.”
She narrows her eyes. “Why the hell would I do that?”
I loom over her, my voice burning in my throat. I’ve never been this fucking determined about charity work, and probably never will be again in my life, but right now, nothing’s going to stop me from getting what I want.
“Because I’m not giving you a choice.”
Chapter Fifteen
Bianca
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. I should’ve known he wouldn’t let this go. But if he thinks he can just loom over me like some bearded, apron-wearing, sexy troll and intimidate me into giving him what he wants, he has no idea just how much shit I’ve been through in my life.
“You don’t get to tell me what I need,” I say, keeping my voice level. “I know exactly what kind of man you are, Tank. Even if you like to hide behind a flour-covered apron.”
His expression stays unreadable, but I see something flicker in his dark eyes.
“I started Safe House to keep women from men like you and my brother,” I continue. “So thanks for the offer, but I don’t need your help. There are other caterers, other bakers, other people I’ll be using for this fundraiser.”
Tank tilts his head, like he’s considering my words. Then he snorts. “You really think you can do all this without my help?”
I stiffen. “I’ve made it this far. I’ve done — I’ve fought through — so much more than you can even fucking imagine. So don’t think you can just dictate terms to me.”
He gives me a slow, knowing look—one that says he thinks I’m naïve. That I don’t have a chance in hell of keeping my world clean when it’s already drowning in filth.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, I turn on my heel and march toward the door.
“Hey, Bianca,” he calls after me.
