Page 14 of Starving Butterfly
“Things haven’t slowed down.” He said.
Not random or casual. My gaze didn’t shift.
“Should they have?”
“With Midas out of the country?” He countered.
There it was again.
Midas. Always fucking Midas.
I shrugged lightly. “Business doesn’t stop because one man gets on a plane.”
“No,” he agreed. “It doesn’t.”
There was a pause; it took every nerve in my body to remain still.
“In fact,” he continued, “from what I’ve seen… revenue’s up.”
That irritated me. Not visibly, but enough to cement it in my head. I kept my expression neutral, even as something cold settled in my chest.
“New routes?” I asked.
“Old ones,” he said. “Just… handled differently.”
Interesting and careful. I flicked some more ash away to give my hands something to do.
I tilted my head slightly, “No one’s stepping on each other’s toes?”
A quiet huff escaped him. “Your father doesn’t strike me as someone who allows that.”
There it was, not subtle this time. I didn’t respond immediately. The cigarette was at my lips with a slow inhale; enough silence stretched to make it seem like I was thinking about the logistics, not the people.
“Didn’t realize they were still that closely aligned,” I said finally.
The commissioner glanced at me sideways; it was the first real reaction I’d gotten from him.
“They’ve always been aligned,” he said. “You know that.”
Did I?
I pushed off the wall, slow and controlled. Extinguishing the cigarette on the sole of my boot.
“Alignment’s one thing,” I muttered. “Joint operations are another.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re telling me you didn’t know?”
I met his gaze fully now, letting him see enough truth to sell the rest.
“I’m telling you,” I said evenly, “I don’t like not knowing where the money’s coming from.”
That was believable, expected, and safe.
He watched me for another second, then gave a small shake of his head, amused.
“Funny. Most people in your position don’t ask questions like that.” He said.
“Most people in my position, don’t clean up the mess when something goes wrong.” I replied.
