“I will repeat,” Carver said softly, angrily, “take your hand off me. I’ll talk to Isabella myself.”
Carver yanked at his arm as his body leaned toward the hall but Prentice’s fingers flexed and he got close to the older man.
“And I’ll repeat, you’re no’ waking her. You have two choices, you leave your message for Elle with me or I eject you from this apartment physically.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Carver straightened and hissed back.
Prentice didn’t reply.
Carver read his non-answer correctly and threatened, “If you manhandle me, I’ll call the police.”
“I hope you do. I’m sure the gossip magazines will enjoy relating this latest story in all its glory.”
Prentice was pleased to see Carver go pale again.
Yes, he’d seen the article that painted him as a monster.
Prentice felt like laughing.
He didn’t.
Carver jerked his arm out of Prentice’s hand and he stalked to the living room. He’d turned on a lamp before Prentice arrived and was surveying the chaos of boxes and filled rubbish bags which was far more welcoming, even given its sense of departure, than the room was normally.
Carver’s eyes cut to him and then dropped to his chest before he ordered, “For God’s sake, put on a shirt.”
“I’ll just have to take it off in five minutes so I’ll no’ waste my time,” Prentice returned. “Say your piece and then go.”
Carver glared at him, anger etched in every line of his expression.
Prentice held his glare, finding himself completely at-ease as he studied Elle’s father.
He was old and, if not frail, he was no longer strong. His power was gone, what he emanated was false, conjured, believed in only by him.
He was a joke.
Carver didn’t think so. Prentice knew this when his eyes lit with something vile.
And he didn’t hesitate with spilling his malevolence into the room.
“A million dollars,” he said.
“Pardon?” Prentice asked, taken off-guard by his bizarre words.
“No, make that three,” Carver amended. “One for you and one for each of your children.”
Prentice realized what he was saying and he didn’t feel at-ease anymore.
The anger had returned.
“Get out,” Prentice said between clenched teeth.
“All right. Six,” Carver responded instantly. “I’ll give you six million dollars and you’ll leave Isabella and never see her again.”
Prentice could not f**king believe this bloke.
“Get out,” he repeated.
“Twelve,” Carver countered.