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I glance at myself in the mirror opposite my table. I’m wearing my black gym tank. There’s blood spatter on my throat and arms. Cigar smoke curls around my blood-streaked face. I smile at my reflection. It does people good to remember that I’m always ready and willing to get my hands dirty.
Merrick clears his throat. “Have I caught you at a bad time, Mr. Mercer?”
I tap my cigar on the edge of an ashtray. “I’ve been having a wonderful time.” I gesture at a chair before me, and he sits down.
The councilor wastes no time in getting to the point. “Are you thinking about getting married, Mr. Mercer?”
My smile widens as I remember thrusting deep inside Vivienne as she climaxed on my dick.
An enormous fucking diamond. That will be her engagement ring. “Why, as a matter of fact, I am.”
His expression brightens. “That’s wonderful, because I have just the woman for you.” He launches into singing the praises of some daughter of his, but the smile has dropped from my face and I’m already not listening.
“…and if you like the sound of her, I can arrange for you to meet. What do you think, Mr. Mercer?”
It was a mistake for him to sit down at my table and talk to me as if Vivienne Stone doesn’t exist.
“Any family who wants me for a son-in-law must be crazy.” I draw on my cigar and let the smoke curl around my lips. “Or desperate.”
Merrick forces a dismissive chuckle. “There’s no desperation, Mr. Mercer. I’m an ambitious man. I’m sure you can understand that, given how similar we are.”
He and I are nothing alike. I built everything I have with my own bloodied hands. It sounds like he hopes to steal power for himself via wedding vows and his daughter’s future.
“You want to be the mayor,” I guess, examining my cigar.
Merrick smooths his tie with a modest smile. “My only aspirations are to serve the people of Henson.”
He can’t even be honest about a simple fucking question.
“And how am I supposed to help you become the mayor?” When he opens his mouth to protest, I point my cigar at him. “Don’t waste my time. Be straight with me or fuck off.”
Merrick clears his throat and nods. “You have legitimate businesses. I have legitimate business interests. We can help each other. We can become closer. My eldest daughter is nineteen, and very beautiful.”
He holds out his phone. I don’t look at the screen, though presumably it shows an image of his daughter.
“I’m not interested,” I tell him stonily.
“But you must want a family, Mr. Mercer. A man of your age with no children? You won’t live forever.”
Until recently, I would have laughed in his face. All these years, I’ve never wanted a family. My own father disappeared when I was fourteen, emptying the bank accounts and leaving us destitute. It was just my struggling mother, me, and four younger siblings. Mom couldn’t work because of the voices in her head, and so we lost our home and moved into a trailer park that was freezing cold and infested with rats and human scum. I found work as a delivery boy and then an enforcer with the crew that used to run the dark side of Henson. I did so well that I took over at age eighteen in a violent coup with a group of loyal men at my back. Since then, my two brothers got married. One works in construction, the other in real estate. One of my sisters is an actress and the other manages my finances. I got my hands dirty so they didn’t have to.
Throughout my twenties, I never wanted a family because I’d already raised one.
All this time, I’ve been my own man, and a woman and children would have only slowed me down. Women are always crying and they hate the sight of blood and violence. Then I met Vivienne, a woman who grabs hold of knives by the blade and can be as ferocious as I can and yet achingly innocent at the same time. Who knew that was my kryptonite. I sure as fuck didn’t.
Merrick offers me his phone again. “Just look at a picture of her. She’s beautiful.”
I knock it onto the table without looking at the screen. He could be showing me an orgy of Victoria’s Secret models and I wouldn’t be interested. Under different circumstances, I might have considered the daughter of an assassin, a murderer, or a scam artist, but I’m not getting cozy with a politician. There is a fucking line.
I jerk my head at the bouncer, a sign to get this man out of here, and he moves forward to stand behind Merrick. My companion gets to his feet with an expression of tight-lipped anger.
“My little bunny will be devastated. She had her heart set on marrying you.”
His little bunny is not my problem. I don’t trust anyone but myself to make decisions about my future. Even if I did trust some people, I wouldn’t trust Alan fucking Merrick.
The matter of my marriage and my future is settled. I’m having Vivienne or no one.
5
