Page 40 of August and the Night

I ignore his rambling before asking him, pulling words out of his mouth for the voice audio. “Where do you get the children, Arthur?”

He looks at me with annoyance before he asks me in return, “Are you going to become a competitor of mine, August?”

I shrug my shoulders, my eyes narrowing on what is going to come out of his mouth next, and he doesn’t disappoint me.

“Even if you did dip your toes into this business, you will never replace me. We have been doing this for years; my grandfather passed on to me just like his grandfather passed it on to him. We have been in this game for way too long to be replaced by newbies like you.” He utters with sick pride, not having an inkling that what he was saying was digging his grave deeper and deeper.

He put way too much trust in his security, ensuring no recording devices entered. It is a wonder how he hasn’t been exposed for so long.

“You have to be a different kind of fucked up to gloat over having a pedophile ring,” I tell him, leaning back into my chair and watching how the disgusting smirk returns to his awful face.

“There you go again, pretending to be so clean and righteous. Is that what attracted you to Layla? You think being with a prude like her will erase your sins or something?” He asks me, smiling a Cheshire smile, knowing I cannot attack him right here.

I take a deep breath, trying to soothe my anger, and he just continues, oblivious to the ticking time bomb in front of him. “You were never supposed to be with Layla. We were going to sell her virginity on her 25th birthday. She would have made us a lot of cash, a lot of men were already lined up for that shit, some women even. They all wanted a piece of her-pure, never even had alcohol before, a girl who was as untainted as snow. She ain’t a virgin no more though, all because of you, and you didn’t even pay for that shit.”

I crack my neck, releasing my breath through my nose, fighting not to kill this motherfucker right here and there. “We?” I growl out, needing to know.

He nods, his gaze goes over to Lily, who is on her knees sucking a man’s dick. The man sits with his legs spread, back straight, and head high, as if he owns the place, because he does and everybody knows it. Even though Lily looks like she is giving it her all, he seems to be more focused on the room, assessing everyone in it with an un-miscible scowl on his face.

“Lily came up with this scheme. Initially, I wanted her to be a seductress, but Lily convinced me that she wasn’t pretty enough for that and if we managed to keep her a virgin for long, we can sell it for good. Smart head on her shoulders, that woman.” He tells me while looking at her with lust in his eyes.

A shiver of disgust makes its way down my back, both at Lily for pretending to care for Layla while scheming her downfall and at the debauchery happening in front of me.

Suddenly, Arthur pales as the man currently receiving the blowjob shoots him a deadly look. If looks could kill, Arthur would be six feet under at this moment. The man lifts his head, a clear warning to Arthur to look away, and he does. His face is still flushed as he takes a deep breath to steady himself.

My brows furrow at the scene; that man is Dante Accardi, some type of underground king here. I shake my head and ignore my thoughts, focusing back on Arthur.

He seems not to want to show his weakness as he immediately looks at me, pretending to be all big and mighty. “So, how are you going to pay us for Layla?” He barks out.

Immediately, my hand goes to his face, squeezing hard enough for his eyes to widen. “Disrespect her one more time.” I growl before leaning in to whisper roughly in his ear, ensuring that my voice is not audible in the recording. “And you won’t like what I will do to you.”

His face contorts in pain as well as in shock at my doing this so publicly. I remove my hand when I see him turning red, and he chugs down another glass of whiskey the waiter placed on the table not long ago. He continues the conversation like nothing happened a moment ago. “I've heard you've got some top-notch stuff. Thinking we could strike a deal and supply our ring on the cheap.”

I groan, my hand rubbing my eyes. He is referring to the reputation I deliberately crafted to be able to attend events like these; he wants some drugs. I have decided that I have had more than enough information to finally expose this family. My goal is soon going to be achieved, and my work here is done.

I nod to him, getting up to leave. He grabs my hand in a hurry before muttering, “Hey! What do you say?” I sigh, tilting my head to the sky for patience before telling him, “I will keep that in mind.”

I head out, having a need to go home much larger than my need to breathe. I feel a stare follow me on the way out, and as I look back, it is Dante again.

This time he had physically manhandled Lily to sit on his lap; her scowl is evident, showing her dislike of the situation, but her cheeks are flushed. I ignore his calculating gaze before stepping out of the event and getting into my car, driving home.

33

August

I drive home, the road stretches on forever, and exhaustion grips my body. Yet, an undeniable fervor surges through my veins, igniting a restlessness in me to see Layla. The thought of her is like a constant drumbeat in my mind, urging me onward. Even the idea of finding her asleep upon my arrival doesn't dampen my mood; just the image of her curled up in bed would satiate this strange longing blooming within me. With each passing mile, my exhaustion is overridden by a pulsating eagerness.

As I pull up to my house, a rush of energy replaces my fatigue from the eventful day. I park the car and can't help but chuckle at my own impatience. I quickly shed my suit jacket, feeling the constriction of the tie loosen around my neck. I take quick steps up the stairs, eager to walk into the bedrooms.

My mind is still busy with the thoughts of Layla; everything about her attracts me.

The thought of her, snug and peaceful in bed, is enough to make my heart race in a way that has nothing to do with weariness.

Her presence is like a gentle hug that warms me, a presence that I can't easily dismiss. Yet, a war wages within my mind – a battle between the growing affection I feel and the bitter history that ties us together. I find myself drawn to Layla's spirit, her laughter, and her quirks.

And yet, I stubbornly cling to the idea that these are simply the product of growing accustomed to her company rather than a reflection of something deeper. The blood of those who took my father's life flows within her veins, a fact that constantly whispers in the background, reminding me of the past we can't escape.

I convince myself that love is too strong a word, too grand a sentiment to be applied to what I feel. Instead, I tell myself that I have simply gotten used to her – that her presence has become a comfortable routine rather than the pull of emotions.

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