Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 68688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
I sat there and drank my wine, listening to the chef yell at the staff because he yelled at everyone. He was a good cook, so I let him run his kitchen however the fuck he wanted. L’Ami Jean was an old establishment, one of the oldest restaurants in the city, even before the Second World War. I bought it because I wanted to keep it exactly the same forever. History and legacy were important to me—and not just because the blood of the nobility ran in my veins.
Minutes later, my guest joined me, wearing a pea coat like a goddamn pussy. He barely looked at me before he took a seat across from me, dark hair and eyes, an ugly scar over his left eyebrow where a hook had dug into his flesh years ago. He looked at Manuel and ordered him around like he was his own employee. “Make me a drink, son.”
Manuel looked at me.
I nodded.
Manuel poured him a glass of wine before he set it on the table.
He took a sip before he finally looked at me. “Butcher.”
“Darius.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Hope you have good news.”
“I do. We resolved our shipping disputes and have prepared the payment.”
“Good.”
He pulled out his phone, did some typing, and then passed the screen to me.
I checked the funds before I hit send and slid it back.
He did it again, calculated the total, and slid it across the table toward me.
I eyed it, making sure the details of the sender were encrypted before I hit send and handed it back.
Darius dropped the phone into his pocket. “I appreciate your patience.”
“I appreciate you doing your job. Less work for me—and my knife.”
He smirked as he reached into his jacket and grabbed a cigar before he lit up.
I’d had enough for the day, so I didn’t join him.
“Lemme ask you something, Butcher.”
“I suspected something was coming down the pipeline.” Most of these transactions didn’t happen in person. In the digital age and in my special line of business, physical goods were unnecessary.
“You could make a lot more if you cut ties with the Fifth Republic. A lot more.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why?” he asked. “You could work for me.”
“I don’t work for anyone, Darius. And I don’t work for the Fifth Republic either.”
“Then you could work with me,” he said. “Imagine what we could do. Imagine the margins if we bent the rules—”
“Some say rules are meant to be broken, but not mine. As long as I live and breathe, they will remain. There’s no reason the criminal enterprises that flourish in this city can’t continue to thrive with order. What I’ve done has created an economy that benefits everyone, from the criminals, to the Republic, and to the people.”
He leaned back in his chair, trying to smile through my words despite the annoyance that built in his eyes.
“Maybe you could earn more under different circumstances. But isn’t it better to operate lawfully?”
His only answer was a shrug. “We’ll have to agree to disagree, Butcher.”
I continued to sit there, arms across my chest, the workers still scrubbing the pans clean in the back.
He continued to smoke his cigar.
“Tell me about Godric.”
He smirked before he released the smoke from his mouth. “What makes you think I speak to him?”
“You have the same politics.”
His smirk remained, and it was accompanied by a slight nod. “Quit while you’re ahead, Butcher. You know what happens to snitches…”
They were mauled in the street, on the way to the car after a nice meal at their favorite restaurant, in broad daylight in the midst of afternoon traffic. Stabbed with knives from every direction, they would have thirty knife wounds before they hit the street—and the attackers would blend into the crowd. There were more codes than mine.
“So, you do know him?”
“If you wanted to play poker, you should have brought the cards.”
I smirked slightly at the joke. “I’ll find him.”
“Good luck with that.”
“And there will be hell to pay when I do.”
“I’m sure.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded manila envelope before he plopped it on the table. “Here’s everything you asked for.”
I opened it and pulled out the contents, a full report with photos, phone records, and text messages. I’d barely glanced at it and was overwhelmed by the mound of evidence. “That son of a bitch…”
“You better sharpen your knife.”
Chapter 6
Fleur
It’d been a couple days since Bastien had come by the apartment. I’d eaten the pancakes when he’d left, and they were just as good as the first time I’d had them on the terrace of his home along the Seine. But I hadn’t heard from him since, and I hadn’t heard from Adrien either. It was the first time I’d heard nothing from either of them.
I went back to work at the bar, and Bastien didn’t show up for a drink. Adrien didn’t stop by to harass me either. My life became quiet and unremarkable. That forced me to experience the pain head on, to think about what I wanted to do.