Page 59 of How to Kidnap a Fake Date
‘Or it’s deliberate,’ the Italian counters. ‘Carefully designed to look messy. It’s what I’d do if I were in on it. To throw you all off.’
‘Well, it’s working. Because right now, it looks like none of you can hold on to your contracts.’ Hector lifts his brows and relaxes in his high-backed chair.
Multiple gazes fall on my dad. Poking at egos never goes down well among so many big ones.
Dad hasn’t moved. Barely even blinks.
‘I don’t recall losing any contracts,’ Mr Smith says.
‘No.’ Mr Stewart grins. ‘But others have. Repeatedly.’
He looks squarely at Eliza before settling on my father. Hmm… She hasn’t mentioned this to me. I know contracts are being stolen out from under people, but I didn’t realise Eliza was one of them.
Damn, whoever it is can have all of mine.
The air seems to crackle as Dad and Hector hold eye contact.
Oh boy, I really want to hide under the table like a five-year-old. I don’t feel equipped for this cock slinging match at all.
‘Evan, yourgirlseems to be having a bit of trouble keeping hold of things lately.’
The way he says girl has me gripping my thighs. Eliza’s hand goes to her thigh, where I know she keeps her knife strapped.Oh fuck.
Dad’s jaw tightens, and he leans forward, like he’s about to rest on the table.
There’s a blur of movement as he sends a flash of silver spinning through the air, landing with a violent thunk in the chair back about half an inch from Hector’s head.
Eliza looks almost miffed as her hand drops from her own weapon.
Hector lets out an almost comically kitten-like yelp, prompting Tremblay and Bianchi to exchange suppressed smiles.
No one speaks as we wait for Hector to retaliate or my dad to escalate. Both men breathe through flared nostrils, and I shrink back into my seat, the tension making me feel like my lungs might explode.
I stare at the knife. It could so easily have been lodged in Hector’s eye. Or throat.
A tiny,tinybit of me wishes it had hit Eddie.
Dad waits another minute before lowering himself to his seat, his voice calm as can be. ‘We will find out who it is, and kill them. But no one mocks my family or me in my own home. Understood?’
Hector reaches up and tugs the knife free of the chair, sliding it back across the table. ‘Fair doos, Evan. My bad.’
It’s the closest to an apology I’ve ever heard from a Stewart.
The conversation resumes as if being threatened is just a regular occurrence. Maybe it is these days.
‘If it’s internal,’ Mrs Smith says, ‘then we have a bigger problem.’
‘No one here would be stupid enough to do that,’ Eddie adds.
‘Wouldn’t they?’ Glances are exchanged at the Frenchman’s words.
Suspicion creeping in.
‘It’s not me, my work is clean. Always has been.’ Eliza isn’t one to sit back crapping her pants like me.
James leans back, folding his arms. ‘That depends on your definition of clean.’
Eliza’s eyes sharpen. ‘It depends on nothing.’
