Page 10 of Blackmail
Four
SEBASTIAN
Tony: Would you please talk to me?
Tony: Come on, Sebastian.
Tony: I’ve explained. I’ve apologized. What more do you want me to do?
I’ve refused to respond until now. Not wanting to give Tony the satisfaction of my anger, not wanting to give any of my thoughts and feelings away. But this string of childish texts is wearing my patience thin.
Sebastian: Telling me you didn’t think escorts counted as cheating is neither an explanation nor an apology. Sign the divorce papers.
Tony: We can work this out.
Sebastian: I got the lobby footage from building security. You’ve had that same kid come to our building three times in the past month. What would I have found if the security footage went back further?
I’ve spent more time than necessary reviewing the footage of the escort entering and leaving our building. Everything from the kid’s confident strut and his tight-looking ass in his vintage suits to the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck during week two’s visit because he needed a trim.
On one of the visits, Tony met him in the lobby. His stiffening posture and him turning his head when Tony attempted to kiss him pleased me immensely, all because they made Tony look foolish.
The whore may have been there for the money but he didn’t like it—or he didn't like Tony.
Tony: He’s not an actual kid. He’s twenty-two. He’s only a few years younger than us. Old enough to drink, even!
Me: Do you honestly think that's helpful?
Tony: I won’t sign the papers if you don’t meet me. Maybe we’ll just have to take this to court.
“Dammit.” I toss the phone on my desk and shoot to my feet in frustration, knuckles braced on the desktop. Tony knows I’d rather pull my fingernails out than go to court. I don’t have the time, and won't risk a judge taking his side. He’s already proven he doesn’t deserve anything more from me.
I silence my phone, slamming it face down for good measure.
“Trouble in paradise?”
I settle back into my chair as Agatha walks into my office, holding a cup of coffee. She’s eyeing me warily as if I might go utterly unhinged at any moment. Fair.
“Tony’s throwing a tantrum.”
She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You’re looking plenty keyed up yourself, boss. Maybe you don’t need more coffee. Perhaps you could use a nice scotch or some warm milk.”
The growl that comes from me only prompts her to narrow her eyes. In the end, though, she puts the coffee on the desk. And gives me a several-seconds-long look of judgment before finally backing away.
“At least drink it before you end up wearing it this time.”
Agatha has worked for me since I started Pierce Consulting. The good news is, I trust her. The bad news is, when she isn’t startled she’s not actually afraid of me.
Lehman strides in and pushes the door shut behind him. “They found Cameron Blakely.”
His expression is grim, despite the news that the missing son of one of our clients has been found.
“They found his body?”
I hate to think of the shy young man I met at client mixers having his life ended too early. But Lehman’s body language tells me the news isn’t good.
“He’s alive.” Lehman lands in the chair across from me with a weary sigh as Agatha quietly exits. “The team we hired found him on a private island off the coast of Brazil—some big-time drug dealer’s house. Aside from being high on something, there were no significant signs of physical damage. He was dressed in clean clothes and looked well-fed and hydrated. No scars, cuts, or bruises. Can’t get a word out of him, though.”
“Shit.” I press my knuckles harder into the desk. There’s nothing to hit in here, but damned if I don’t want to. “God only knows what that kid might have gone through.”
