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“Look at this,” my father said, reaching into his pocket.
He pulled out a picture and slid across the desk.
“Fuck,” I said when I looked at the familiar face.
“You recognize him,” my father said.
“Yeah,” I responded.
“That wasn’t a question, Elias. I know you recognize him, and since you do know him, I guess there’s no reason to show you this. But why not?”
Father took another picture out of his pocket and slid it across the table.
I barely glanced at the new one before I looked away.
Didn’t want to see it.
Because it was a picture of Kayla smiling at Todd, who was apparently this new player that had the underworld abuzz.
I recognized the restaurant they were in. It was a steakhouse, one of my favorites.
Kayla was sitting there, a smile on her face, Todd giving her a shit-eating grin.
The rage of her looking at him like that hit me in an instant.
At him for being within ten feet of her without my permission.
At myself for giving a fuck.
“So, you want to explain?” Father asked.
“No,” I responded simply.
“No? This…woman,” he spat, his voice brimming with scorn, “was at our gathering. This woman is allowed in places that only the most senior, loyal, and trusted members of the family are allowed.”
He went quiet and then leaned forward, his dark eyes lasered on me, his disappointment, his anger, clear.
“You let her into the inner sanctum of this family, and then this,” he said, jabbing a meaty finger at the pictures.
“I did,” I said, not looking away from my father.
I was annoyed with Kayla, fucking hated Todd, was pissed at myself, but I wouldn’t yield on this.
“And you don’t think it’s a problem that she’s with this new player?” Father asked.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said.
“Take care of it?” Father thundered, his face turned down in a deep frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means exactly what it sounds like. I’ll take care of it.”
“Explain to me how you’re going to take care of a betrayal like this,” Father said.
I placed my hands flat on the desk, looked at the pictures, then looked at my father.
“I said I’ll take care of it,” I repeated.
My father held my gaze, his snapping with anger.
“See that you do, or I will,” he finally said.
