SAVAGE LOVE

Chapter 5

He winced and gave me an, ‘Are you crazy woman?’ look, before reluctantly answering. “What do you have in mind? We’ve got no money.”

“Thanks to you!” I spat out. “I thought you were taking the money straight to them yesterday, you know, to get them off your back for a while. Why, Timothy? Why would you spend it on s**t that’s gonna kill you?”

He wouldn’t answer me though. I don’t know why I’d ever expected he would. He clearly had zero remorse. I was beginning to realize that I b

arely recognized this version of him, and I certainly didn’t like it all that much.

“They want more than that. They want ten times that much, and that’s just this month’s installment.”

I wanted to tell him to grow a pair and face his problems, but I held my tongue. A first for me.

“Well, something might’ve helped keep them happy for a while. Now we have nothing.” I folded my arms over my chest in defiance. “Listen, I’ll tell you what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna pay these men a little visit-” He tried to protest, but I cut him off. “We’ll tell them we have nothing, and we’ll buy ourselves some time. They can’t squeeze cash out of us if we don’t have any. I’ll tell them I’m back now. I’ll get a job and set up a payment plan with them.”

“It’s not a high street bank, Bianca,” he scoffed. “They’re not gonna go for a two-bit payment plan.”

“It’s all they’re gonna get from us,” I stated, determined to stick to my guns.

I would get these men to negotiate with me. I wasn’t going to let them bulldoze over our lives. I needed to show them who was in charge, and take control of this situation. Bianca to the rescue, as usual.

I wore a cute tweed blazer over my low-cut black vest and tailored black short shorts, finishing off the look perfectly with thigh-high black suede boots. I knew I had to dress for my audience, and a stripper body with a killer brain was what I was going for. I couldn’t help but feel sexily powerful. I tied my long, blonde curls up into a high ponytail, and kept my make-up natural but sexy, making sure my lips were glossy and stained a deep pink. I knew how to manipulate men if I needed to, and I wasn’t ashamed to pull out all the stops. I was going to be the one manipulating the situation to our advantage, not them. They needed to know that Momma bear was home now, and she was gonna take control of this s**t.

At around Midday, I found myself standing at the back of an old building that housed one of the city’s newest and hottest clubs. An imposing, thick, reinforced metal door was all that stood between us and the demons inside that ran this place. I held myself tall as Timothy pushed the buzzer, but no voice sounded over the intercom. The CCTV cameras whirred around quietly to focus their lenses on us. I turned to give them my most vicious stare, letting the person on the other end know in no uncertain terms that I was not a pushover.

I felt Timothy grab for my hand, and I gave him a reassuring squeeze back. Whatever happens today, we’re in this together. I was going to marry this man in six months. I wanted to do it without any s**t hanging over our heads. We deserved it.

We heard shuffling, and a few deep voices muttering from the other side of the door before it clunked open to reveal two huge men dressed in black suits and fitted with earpieces. They didn’t even look us in the eye, just held the door open and stepped back to let us through.

“Nice receptionists they’ve got here. Where do you want us to sign in?” I spat out sarcastically, hoping to get a rise out of one of them. I was shocked to realize I was spoiling for a fight.

“Well, aren’t you just a breath of fresh air, blondie?”

I spun around to face the owner of that caramel smooth voice and saw a tall guy walking down a flight of stairs towards us. He was good-looking, with jet black hair slicked back, and he carried himself with way too much confidence. He stared right at me, a smirk on his handsome square-jawed face that was just begging to be slapped off.

“Are you the welcoming committee?” I met his smirk with my own and kept my head held high.

“Bianca…” Timothy went to reprimand me, or call me out for being rude, but the cocky guy shot him down.

“I am the welcoming committee, or rather, I’m more welcoming than the man you’ve come here to see. But then your boyfriend here already knows that. Am I right?”

He glanced over at Timothy, as my man shrank into himself under his disdainful glare. I was livid. I wanted to turn and face Timothy. Tell him to stand up to this guy and grow a f*****g backbone. This wasn’t the Timothy I knew. He didn’t let people push him around, ever. I wasn’t sure I liked this new, weaker version all that much. Things were going to have to change now that I was home.

“Where is he?” Timothy asked, and the dark-haired guy nodded towards the top of the stairs.

“I hope you’ve brought his money, gutter rat because he’s in a really shitty mood today. Even more shitty than usual, and that’s saying something.”

I went to argue about his use of such a disrespectful nickname for my man, but he just pushed through the middle of us and exited through the door behind, forcing us to unlink our joined hands as he did.

“I wouldn’t do anything to piss him off if I were you,” he threw back over his shoulder. “Not unless you’ve got a death wish.”

Then he was gone, leaving us with the two meat-head mutes and a staircase looming in front of us, leading to God knows who and God knows what.

“Who was that?” I whispered into Timothy’s ear.

“That was Kenny Brown. He’s not a nice guy, Bianca.”

I leaned back and raised my eyebrows at my gullible and seemingly innocent fiancé.

“Are any of these guys nice? I’m not stupid, Timothy. I know where we are.”

“Where are we then?” He looked at me with a puzzled, pissed-off expression. He’d obviously saved the sass for the wrong person.

“Death dungeons in hell, obviously. You deal with the devil and his demons on a daily basis, Timothy. Now I’ve gotta go to hell to get you back out.”

We trudged our way up that staircase, with each step getting heavier and harder to make than the last. I thought how ironic it was that we were heading upwards, as opposed to descending to the bowels of hell. This devil, or demon, whatever he was, obviously liked to think he was above the rest of us.

When we came to the top of the stairs we were ushered along the corridor to a solid wooden door at the end of the building. Everywhere was dark and mysterious. Eerie almost, as if smoke could mist over the floor at any moment and it wouldn’t look out of place. It felt other-worldly. I didn’t let the aura of the place mess with my mind, though. I held my head high and took a deep breath, as the suit with us knocked on the door and stood back.

“What?” The gruff, deep voice behind the door sounded pissed and irritable. Too bad his day was about to get a hell of a lot worse when I stomped through his door and put him in his rightful place.

The suit opened the door and announced drily, “It’s your favorite junkie come to visit, and he’s brought you a little something to look at, while he worms his way out of another payment this month.”

He smirked down at me, but I huffed my annoyance and pushed past him, entering the warm, dark office space.

There was an open fire, gently billowing out smoke into the darkened room. The subtle smell of leather, whiskey, and expensive men’s cologne hit me, lulling me into a false sense of security. It looked and felt like an old-school gentleman’s club. Somewhere my father and grandfather might’ve frequented back in the day. A place where deals were done and honest lifelong friendships were cemented. However, the man sitting behind the desk in front of us now was anything but an honest gentleman.

We both walked across the room, our hands entwined to give us courage and support, and stood on the opposite side of the desk from the man who held Timothy’s future, our future, in his evil grasp. His grey eyes were cold, lifeless, and disinterested, as he dragged his gaze from whatever was on his laptop to Timothy. Then his eyes met mine, and his icy glare sent prickles down my spine. I saw a flicker of something behind his stare, but what it was I couldn’t tell; recognition maybe? But it was gone as quickly as it came. He was stunning to look at, there was no denying that. He had that ‘just walked off an Armani photoshoot’ look about him, but his aloof, detached air of superiority made him appear empty. A hollow man, devoid of feelings of compassion or warmth. The way he pierced me with his cold stare made me feel like he was primed and ready to attack, and I was his prey.

He picked up a glass tumbler filled with amber liquid and threw it back. His muscular throat rippled as he swallowed, making me feel uneasy. Then he grunted out in a bored gravelly voice, “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He was addressing Timothy, I knew that, but his eyes never left mine. His gaze put me on edge and made me feel exposed and vulnerable before we’d even started. I needed to keep my wits about me, because this man sitting in front of us was no pushover.

“We’ve come to make arrangements to settle our debt.”

I tried to sound as confident as I could, even though every nerve in my body was on red alert, and I was quivering like a jelly.

“Oh, it’s your debt now, is it?”

His face remained stoic and harsh, but his eyes softened, sparkling slightly, almost as if he were mocking me. I didn’t like it.

“Seeing as how we’ll be married soon, then yes, it is.”

I straightened my back, hoping that by standing taller I’d feel more in control. I squeezed Timothy’s hand, willing him to step in for me. I felt under attack already, and we hadn’t even started negotiations. So much for being the one to manipulate this meeting. Why wasn’t Timothy speaking up for me?

As if he could read my inner thoughts, the devil in the designer suit spoke out with contempt.

“Letting your woman speak for you now, rat?”

“Don’t call him that!” I snapped back before Timothy could even open his mouth. I felt so irritated by the way these men were judging us as if we were dirt they needed to scrape from their shoes. The lowest of the low. That wasn’t us. It wasn’t the Timothy I was in love with. This guy just smirked and sat back in his chair, looking irritatingly self-satisfied and smug.

“Why? What else should I call him? He’s a gutter rat, belongs in the gutter.”

His unwavering air of scorn and derision for us instantly got my back up. I took a step towards him, pulling my hand free of Timothy’s, and placing them both flat on Mr. Asshole’s desk as I leaned forward.

“His name is Timothy. It’s not a hard name to remember. Unless you have problems with remembering simple things like that, Mr…” I suddenly realized I had no idea who this was, and knowing that I didn’t know was obviously an issue for him too.

He leaned forward, clenching his jaw. I could see an angry tick pulsing in his neck like he was about to burst or explode in anger.

“Douglas. My name is Micheal Douglas. You need to put your woman on a shorter leash, Timothy.” He said the name like he was spitting out venom.

Timothy moved to stand next to me and pulled my arm.