His collateral

Chapter 24

Lucien grabbed the kneeling man by the hair, lifting his head to face him. The man's eyes were red and swollen, blood flowing freely from his mouth.

"You think I wouldn't find out you were the mole." He lifted his fist and drove it hard into the man's face repeatedly. More blood splattered.

Lucien tightened his grip on his hair. "I hope you have some money saved from what you were paid. I hear caskets are very expensive these days." He shoved him away.

The man crawled back to Lucien, clutching his leg. "Mr. Black. Please forgive me. I have a family at home. They'll starve if I'm gone.”

Lucien let out a long mocking laugh. "Playing the family card now, are we? You should have thought about them before you betrayed me."

"I was—" The man drew in a weak rattling breath. "I was in debt. I needed the money."

Lucien crouched low and grabbed him by the collar, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I might have forgiven you if you had sold it to just my clients. But Don Malo." He scoffed. "That is where you crossed the line."

He straightened, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped the blood from his knuckles and dropped it on the floor. "You know what to do, James."

"Yes, Boss."

He walked out. Loud screams followed him down the corridor until he pulled the warehouse door shut behind him.

Back at the private villa, away from the noise and the blood, Lucien stepped into his room with a towel hanging low at his waist, his hair still damp from the shower.

He settled into the chair beside the floor to ceiling window and stared at the sunset bleeding gold across the sky. After a moment he reached for the cigarette pack on the table, pulled out a stick and placed it between his lips. He lifted the lighter.

No flame.

He tried again. Nothing.

He examined it briefly then set it down and crossed to the bed, pulling the bedside drawer open. He ransacked it. He visited the villa once a year but he was certain there was a lighter somewhere.

Lucien pulled items out one after the other and stopped when his hand closed around a photo album. He lifted it out, wiped the dust from the cover and walked back to his seat, the unlit cigarette forgotten on the drawer.

As he turned through the pages a faint smile crossed his face. His hand stilled on a photograph. A teenage boy and a small toddler girl building a snowman together, a man and a woman beside them, all four of them smiling.

His finger moved slowly, tracing each face.

His phone rang. He reached for it without looking at the screen, his eyes still on the photograph.

"What?"

Silence came from the other end. Then a soft voice.

"Lu."

His expression shifted immediately. "Sara."

"You sound angry. Did I call at a bad time?"

Lucien drew in a slow breath. "I was occupied. I answered without checking who it was. I thought it was someone else."

"Where are you?" She asked quietly. "At the villa?"

He smiled faintly. She always knew. "Are you back at the estate?"

"Yes."

"With Elena?" The question left him surprised.

"Yes. We got back before noon like you said. I wanted to call before going down for dinner. Are you okay?"

Lucien's jaw tightened. "What do you mean? I'm always okay."

"You know what I mean, Lu."

He fell quiet.

"Tell Anne I left my watch on the sitting room table. She should take it up to my room."

"She already did that. Don't try to change the subject."

"Don't you have something better to do than taunt me this evening? Go tend to your flowers."

"You don't want to talk." She snorted softly. "Are you still upset about our argument the other day?"

"No, Sara." He sighed. "I'm not. Listen, I'll be back soon. We can talk properly then. I'm not in the right place for it now."

"Okay." She said quietly. "Just make sure you're back in time. So we can go visit mum and dad together."

"I will."

"I'll hang up now. Take care of yourself."

Just before the line went dead a familiar voice drifted through from the background.

"Sara, are you coming down for dinner? Oh, you're on a call."

"I'm done." The line cut.

The phone lowered slowly from his ear. His gaze drifted to the window.

Why did the sound of her voice do that to him?

Last night he had almost touched her lips. The warmth that had moved through him when she said she wouldn't try to run anymore had been immediate and unmistakable.

He stared at the golden sky outside, the photo album still open in his lap.

What was this strange feeling?