Page 3 of Beautiful Things Obey
“I do this so families get closure,” I bite back.
He tilts his head, that cool intellect dancing in his gaze. “What about you? Do you get closure?”
Without thinking, I take a step back.What does he mean by that?
“I don’t need closure.”
His eyes flick to my name tag. A brief pause. Like he’s registering the irony, but his expression doesn’t change. One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifts. “You don’t? Everybody is seeking some kind of closure, Miss Graves.”
I don’t like how closely this man looks, as if into my soul, and that has been off-limits for a very long time—even to me.
“It’sDr.Graves, and if you will excuse me, you need to leave. I’m locking up for the night.”
His brows rise at the correction. He’s not used to people correcting him. I cover the rest of the body and then pick up the clipboard at the end of the table to mark off some paperwork.
He stands at the edge of the table, a tic running through his jaw. “You know I’m going to avenge this man’s death,” he says in a voice that tells me the revenge will be bloody.
“That’s not my concern,” I say.
The man lying between us on my slab meant something to him. It’s not only the tattoo that tells me he was family. It’s the stillness in Silas’s body as he looks down at him. In the tightening of his handsome facial features. The fists curling at his side.
And suddenly I’m five years old again, watching my father standing over my mother’s coffin, his face drawn and his eyes tear stained…
“It was fast,” I say, my voice cutting into the frigid air. “He wouldn’t have known what hit him.”
I don’t know why I’m offering him an attempt at comfort. I never offer it. The men I work for don’t pay me for comfort. They pay me to clean up a situation and keep my mouth shut. And they pay me really well. They sure as fuck don’t walk into my workplace as if they own it.
I have never worked for the Vescari family. And I never will.
But his enemies come to me. That’s why he’s here. He knew this was where this man would be brought.To me. The one person the underworld trusts to ensure their narrative is the only one that makes it into official documents.
It’s dangerous work. But I meant what I said. It’s because I do this that they get buried and not dumped into a shallow grave where they’ll never be found.
And truth be told, I really like money.
I guess that’s what happens when you’re raised by a parent who was constantly chasing it.
Silas turns, and his dark eyes lock on me again.
“If you cover up one of my men’s deaths again, without my authority, you won’t like the outcome.”
Unblinking, I stare at him. He’s probably delivered similar threats to many other people before. And I imagine they nodded their heads and assured him it would never happen again while praying he didn’t shoot them on the spot.
But I am not easily unnerved. His threat does not scare me. It pisses me off. And it’s been my experience not to piss people off when you want them to do something for you. I’m very much anask nicelyperson. Anything less and I tend to get stabby.
“This is business, Mr. Vescari. It’s not personal,” I say, trying to regain my last fucking nerve.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Miss Graves. It’s very fucking personal,” he growls.
The tension in my lower stomach snaps, and I turn on him. “Where do you get off coming into my place of business and telling me what I can and cannot do?” I glare at him, grinding my jaw so I’m not as tempted to bring that fucking scalpel to his throat. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
He steps closer.Too close.The overhead lights deepen the shadows on his high cheekbones as he looks down on me, and my hand slides across to the scalpel, enjoying its cool touch. If he notices, he acts indifferent as he towers over me.
“Your worst fucking nightmare if you ever do anything like this again.”
The menace in his voice makes me pause. But slowly, the smile tugs at my lips. And it’s something he doesn’t take too kindly to.
“You find what I say amusing?” he asks.
