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Vespa nodded, waving a group of Coronellas together to talk strategy.
Beatrice could feel her energy draining, but she took a breath. “One more thing.”
Montrell nodded, his eyes locked on her. “Anything.”
“Set up a meeting with my father.”
This time the murmurs came.
“He owes the Coronellas!” The strength in her sudden shout surprised them to silence. Her own anger surprised her, even if it was what she always felt when she remembered her father’s last words to her, and she had to take a moment to regain her composure. “I’m going to see to it we collect.”
Montrell’s jaw tightened, but he nodded again. “I’ll set it up.” His eyes swept over those present, but none protested. “Give us the room, will you?”
The few men that passed Beatrice nodded as they left. Vespa was the only one who hovered, her gaze locked on Montrell.
“It’s okay, Vespa,” he said, nodding toward the door. “See to the other thing.”
Vespa’s lips thinned, but she pulled the door shut behind her.
Montrell’s eyes skimmed over Beatrice. He’d compliment her now, she thought cynically. He’d try to touch her.
His crossed arms only tightened, and his gaze dropped. “You need to know this, but I hate to have to say it. Your father didn’t support your rescue, Bea.” Montrell scowled. “He was kind of a dick about it, actually.”
Her own memories of the one time she escaped almost suffocated her. “I know that well enough.”
Montrell’s eyes tightened as they focused on her.
“I still need to do this,” Beatrice said, though her lips felt numb saying it. “For me, and for you.”
Montrell shook his head. “Not for me, Bea.”
“He broke the contract,” she reminded him. Her father had gone back on his word. With Montrell, yes, but there were other examples she’d discovered among the Albanians. “You should have killed him back then.”
Montrell stepped toward her, his hand rising and causing her to flinch. It closed before dropping to his side again.
Her own arms tightened around her body, and she forced herself to breathe. Montrell hadn’t hit her. Not yet.
He retraced his step. “The Coronellas have already taken our pound of flesh for the broken contract. If we do this, we do it for you. Not for what I was once owed.”
“I’m going to get both out of him. You can watch.” There was no longer enough slow and steady breathing in the world that would stop the chills that were racing down her arms. She turned toward the door, needing to escape. “Let me know when.”
“I will,” Montrell murmured at her back, letting her run away.
She hated that she needed to. One step at a time, she reminded herself, forcing a serene expression over her features as she raced to the self-imposed prison of her room.
Chapter 6
Montrell stared after Beatrice. She’d looked good enough to eat. He couldn’t admit that to her, or she would have run away faster.
Her body filled his dreams. He was a horny fucker despite his promise not to be. It’d nearly killed him to watch her lurk in the shadows most of the week, but he’d promised she could do what made her feel safe. The Beatrice he remembered would have sent a coy smile at his boys when she passed, expecting them to check out her assets and damned proud of them. She’d almost looked like that today, but he’d seen the strain of it in her eyes.
She was forcing herself, and he wanted to tell her not to.
He remembered how she used to talk with her hands, but today he’d watched her tighten them around herself instead. The pearl bangles on her arms were the only things out of place. She’d never worn them before, and he recognized them from Vegas. She’d brought a piece of her last marriage with her and seemed to cling to it. The reminder had to hurt, and he was worried that was the reason she wore them.
“Hey, Montrell!” Vespa called, waving her hand in his face.
He flushed as he realized it wasn’t the first time she’d said his name. “I hear you.”
