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I left Restore House with the clothes on my back and the contents of Martin’s box in a paper bag with a handle.
The shelter was on the border between the better part of Seattle and the bad. I didn’t have far to go to retrace my steps to the beginning where it all went wrong. My anger propelled me to the bus and then to Winston’s.
When I gave my name to the club’s security guard outside, his eyes rounded as he took in my condition. But he didn’t seem surprised to see me.
Head held high, I marched up the stairs and waddled through the club straight to Martin’s office. The gazes of the staff followed me. I noted Teresa behind the bar. It had been close to a year since I’d last been here.
I rapped on the closed door to his office before throwing it open. “I’m coming in.”
“My dear.” Martin rose from behind his desk. Pulling up his pants, he zipped them. “Get out,” he barked to the woman who’d been on her knees in front of him.
Wide-eyed, the blond waitress who looked like me stood, swiped the back of her hand across her mouth, and scurried past me.
The minute she was gone, I ranted at him, flailing my arms with anger. “You shouldn’t have sent that package.”
“I’ve been waiting for you.” He didn’t acknowledge my words. His gaze drifted, lingering in the usual areas. There was a lot more of me to see. But more important than the physical changes were the ones he couldn’t see. “What took you so long to return?”
“I’m not here to be your victim again.”
“I made you my goddess,” he said, lifting his chin.
“You made me a pitiful object.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“There is nowe. There’s just you, and then there’s me.” I cranked up my chin, even though inside, a part of me that still recalled the pain trembled. “You overplayed your hand sending the collar. That’s physical evidence. Your signature and the photos too. Your DNA is probably on everything.” I lifted the bag, the paper crinkling. “And now I have it.”
His brows slowly rose. “Are you threatening me, my dear?”
“I’m telling you how it is, and what you will do.” With my free hand, I tossed my ponytail over my shoulder.
“Which is what exactly?” he asked as Arturo stepped inside the room.
My heart thumped wildly, but I wouldn’t be trapped again. I’d come here to confront Martin, choosing a time when Winston’s would be busy. I also had backup on the way. Grace had informed Winston of the situation. He and Grace should be arriving to pick me up any minute now. But their son didn’t need to know that.
“You got off too easy in our previous agreement.” My eyes flashed with my anger, and his turned black with his. “We’ll be drafting a new one. And you’ll pay dearly.”
“In what way, my darling?” His lips curved. It sickened me that he got off on my defiance.
“You’ll stay away from me. No more presents or appearances. Not by Arturo, or anyone else associated with you. If you violate that, all the stuff in this”—I shook the bag, its contents rattling inside—“will be shared with the media as well as sent to the police.”
Martin’s lips flattened, but I wasn’t through.
“Plus, you’ll sign over Winston’s to me, and I want it in a trust.”
His gaze narrowed. “What kind of trust?”
“One for me to fund my future.”
I didn’t have a complete plan mapped out yet. I just knew losing his club would hurt Martin. It was his pride and joy, after all, and he used it to launder money. I wanted him to suffer.
“You’ll have to find a different way to put yourself in a position to sexually harass women,” I said as my chin went up more. “And, oh yeah, have fun explaining to your higher-ups how you fucked up everything.”
His black brows drew together. “A minor setback.”
Not so minor. I knew Martin saw himself as a bigger player than he was. He might be big, but he wasn’t completely untouchable.
“You’ll be forced to start over like I was.” It wasn’t enough pain to put him through, but it was the best I could do. It seemed right.
