Page 137 of The Kiss Of Death
So he was laying out his cards from the start. Interesting.
I raised a brow. “Please enlighten me.”
“You may be smarter than most idiots, but you also have antisocial tendencies, got into fights during your school years,and were followed by a therapist. While you’re from a wealthy family, your name is tainted by what happened to your mother. You’ll never be able to give Dalia the security she needs.”
Adrenaline pulsed through my veins. “Dalia doesn’t need security. She needs freedom, sir.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Why don’t we ask her?”
A tightening in his jaw. A subtle fist clench. A tight-lipped smile. I was savoring every last bit of it. “I know what’s best for my daughter. She’ll thank me later for getting rid of you.”
I let out a dark laugh. “I’ve promised her I’ll try my best to be cordial with you, and I’m a man of my word. So let me say this just once: I’ll hurt anyone who gets on her road or mine.”
“This is not Pantheon here, boy,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m willing to offer you money and a future if you stay away from her.”
From beneath his top drawer, he tossed his checkbook onto his desk with a disdainful flick, then adjusted his pretentious pen—likely worth more than anything he’d ever bought for his daughter. His urgency to dismiss me felt as though he had more pressing matters to attend to than dealing with me on Christmas. Too bad for him, I had all the time in the world.
“It’s entertaining how you think that low of me.”
“She’s the most precious thing I have, and she loves me.” His insecurity flared through his pores, the timbre of his voice already breaking. “She’ll never pick you over me.”
A thing. He called her a thing as if she was his good little obedient doll. I lounged back in the chair, propping my feet up on his desk, wondering why I hadn’t given that bastard a good lesson already. Out of respect for Dalia, maybe. Well, screw it. He glared at my Chelsea boots on his desk but did nothing.
“I’m not going anywhere, and you will not be opposed to our relationship.” I extracted my phone and swiftly jammed thecommunication signals with my device. If Mercier was being monitored, this conversation needed to stay between us.
“Who do you think you are?” He puffed out his chest. I doubted he would even be able to run a mile without gasping for breath. His bulky frame hid how little his self-esteem was. “Four years ago, you were only a—”
I jerked my head back and clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth.No, no, no,he wasn’t helping his case.
“If you’re so inclined to speak about the past, I’m going to reveal to you two secrets, sir. First, it’s about your daughter.” I straightened up, retracting my feet from the desk, and leaned forward. “You did such a great job at maintaining her innocence, but too bad, because I broke it.”
That was the exact reaction I’d been dying to see: his ugliness surfacing with a subtle clench of his jaw, followed by a quick grimace as his nose crinkled.
“As you can guess, I took her virginity, but don’t you worry, I haven’t impregnated her yet.” I smiled the only way I knew how—the way that sent dread into the eyes of mortals.
His facade was crumbling, revealing the mediocre man beneath. He appeared older, with all those lines etching deeply into his forehead.
“You’re a monster.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But you see, Dalia is a match to my monster, and initially, she may have been just an obsession or a pawn in my game to annihilate people like you. But I believe I’ve always been lying to myself. The point is, I’m fully aware she’s my everything now. Always has been.”
“How romantic and naive,” he spat, that grimace still carved on his face, with a pulsing vein he should definitely get checked out on his forehead.
“I surprise myself too,” I said, grabbing the frame of the family portrait on his desk. He had a commercial smile in thepicture, just like the ones Patrice used to have. All fake. “I was only a teenager, sir, when you punched me at my mother’s funeral and broke our most precious heirloom. Yesterday, I had the displeasure of finding out one of the reasons my mother died was because of people like you. Abusers. Bullies. The scourge of humanity.”
“I don’t regret what I did.” Mercier fidgeted in his seat, his nostrils flaring. “Leave Dalia alone. You have a problem with me, not my daughter.”
“I’d appreciate it if you don’t interrupt me before I tell you my second secret. I promise, you’ll dig it.” I paused for effect. “I know what happened to Dalia’s mother. I know how much of a coward and a liar you are.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied, raising his voice.
“Then let me enlighten you again. Los Calaveras didn’t aim to kill the president’s son, am I right? No, they had another goal.” My smile curled deeper. “A target.”
“Stop,” he roared.
“I dug into your past,” I whispered loud enough to imagine the chills crawling on his spine. “Fifteen years ago, you sold guns and warfare attire to a low mercenary group, thinking it’d go unnoticed. They’d just kill each other in another country far away from yours, right? I mean, you were about to go bankrupt, losing a contract with the French army, but you have to admit it’s selfish, even for you. But you refused to deal with them the second time. Was it ten years ago? Because in the meantime, you gained a conscience, and your dear friend, Frederic Archambault, was appointed minister of defense. You secured a contract with the French army after all.”
