even know I was in New York? He looks older, less cocky. Maybe it's my imagination but he looks nervous. He doesn’t answer, just looks at me and smiles. That sly smile that I need to wipe off his face.
“Nice place Willy boy, it's good to see Daddy's money is still paying for your lifestyle.”
Daddy's money, that's rich coming from this hypocrite who only has a pot to piss in because his papa croaked and left him everything. “Louis, you should know a thing or two about spending Daddy's money.” I love how his eyes just sharpened. Arrogant prick. People in glass houses should shut the bloody fuck up. “Why are you here and what do you want?”
“Thanks for inviting me in,” he says as he pushes the door fully open and lets himself in. Dickhead. “Did you miss New York, William? You know I have a restraining order against you. So, don't forget to count to ten and think twice before you act out.” He walks into my suite with his hands behind his back as he looks around, not sure what he’s bloody looking for. He walks past me towards the huge window overlooking 5th Avenue and Central park. Louis Bruel thinks he’s king of everything. But he can’t fool me. I know what kind of scum he really is. I close the door and follow to stand behind him, and if I had a weapon, he’d probably be dead already. He sits in the same chair by the window that less than five minutes ago, I sat in while fantasizing about my gorgeous Emily. That thought brings a smile to my lips.
“You came to me. Take yourself the fuck out of here and I won't have to restrain myself from rearranging your mug.” Maybe I'll finally have the chance to murder this wanker.
“Sit down, Liam, we need to talk. I've been very generous with you,” he says, pointing to a chair opposite him.
This whoreson is being generous with me? I snicker to myself. I loathe that he calls me Liam, it means Isa told him. “Oh, Master Louis, please, do tell why you're being so very generous with me. I won't be sucking your knob or kissing your dirty arse so drop the bureaucracies and let’s take care of business like men—without calling the coppers. And don't you bloody call me Liam or dare and try to tell me what to do. I'm not some vulnerable girl you can manipulate and destroy.” If I were older when Isa got mixed up with him, I would’ve slaughtered him.
“Liam, sit down. This is about Emily.” Emily? Hearing her name come out of his mouth physically pains me. What happened to Emily? I should sit down and listen to what this arse has to say. I'm starved for any information about her. How is it possible to go from detesting the girl I thought contributed to my sister's death, to being hopelessly obsessed with that same woman? I haven’t been able to get her out of my system in weeks.
“What about Emily?” Even hearing myself say her name out loud somehow feels painful. But his reaction to me saying her name is fucking priceless. Possessive lowlife.
“Did your dream come true when you drugged my wife and got her naked into your bed, Liam?” Stupid pig, I would never hurt Emily, and if he calls me Liam one more time, I’ll kill him.
“Well, you're still breathing, so obviously my dreams haven’t come true, yet.” If he actually died, I'd be with Emily right now. I would get a chance to show her how a woman deserves to be treated and loved. Why do good people die while imbeciles like him and his friends get to live? “How many innocent women will you keep luring to their death? What do you promise them, anyway? Isa didn't need your money, why would she be with a person like you? Poor Emily, what have you put that sweet girl through?”
He looks mad. He's ready to pounce. “Don't talk about my wife like you know her,” he says through gritted teeth. Stupid, arrogant prick; I know your wife inside and out, I think to myself with pride.
“I do know her. Better than you may be comfortable with, mate.” A big smile spreads across my face when I let my head think back to our time together in St. Lucia. Emily came there alone, broken, and in pain, thanks to this cheating, lying monster. I helped