You Know I Love You (You Are Mine #3) - Willow Winters Page 0,65

the fabric look cheap. He’s always looked just a bit cheap. Regardless of the brand or how expensive his tastes are. Some assholes will always look like a knockoff.

He taps his fingers on the desk, but my eyes don’t leave his. “The reason I called you in here is simple, Evan. The new client we have likes to live on the reckless side, and I’m concerned about drug abuse.”

A gruff exhale leaves me from deep down in my chest. “I quit.” I ignore the fact that he’s hinting around what happened with Tony. My skin tingles and that feeling of a spider crawling on me comes back. I can’t help but think he’s recording this conversation. Everything in my gut has been telling me there’s a setup and that I’m going to take the fall for what happened.

It was my fault, so I should be taking the blame regardless. On my terms, not this prick’s and he’s responsible for the way it went down. Some of the blame rests on his shoulders.

“I know what you said, but I assumed you’d come to your senses,” he says, waving off my curt response. “Like I said, the new client has been known to behave a bit recklessly and I just want to make sure the policy we had in place remains the same.”

The policy. I smirk at him, my grip on the arms getting tighter although my fingers are all that move.

The policy where the clients get what they want, but we don’t say it out loud to anyone. The one where we’re given clean stashes of the best drugs in the rec rooms. That’s the policy. Instead of clarifying the policy, I answer, “After what happened with Tony I would think it’s more than clear that we should advise our clients against anything too reckless.”

James’s eyes narrow. He knows I know that he’s recording this. I’m not a fool. The only question I have is why. Why record it? More blackmail? Or evidence? What’s he after?

I stare him in the eyes as I ask, “What is it you really want? You know you’ve provided drugs to clients before.” I cock my head to the side as I ask, “Are we changing the policy?”

“I’ve never given anyone anything illegal,” he states and I notice how he stiffens slightly but still tries to act casual as he shrugs and adds, “There’s no change to the policy.”

My wife has this thing she does. It’s a smile I hate. A smirk really. I hate it when she gives it to me. It’s one that tells me she knows I’m full of shit. While I sit here, staring at this asshole, I can feel the corner of my lips tug up into that sarcastic smirk. It doesn’t stay there for long, though.

“Did you know the coke was laced?” James asks me and it takes a moment for the question to register.

The coke I gave Tony.

That doesn’t make sense. Our shit is clean and pure and the best there is.

It’s also provided to us in the recreation room by the company.

“I wouldn’t know a thing about that.” It’s the only answer I can force out. Keeping a hard stare on my face even as my blood heats hotter and hotter.

Is he serious? It was laced?

I know the laws in and out. I can’t admit to any knowledge that could lead back to me. I can accuse him, but not admit to participation or any foresight of drugs being gifted so freely when asked.

I raise my hand as if I’m the one in the wrong. The one who misspoke. “None of it matters anyway. I told you, I quit.”

“And I told you, that you—”

“I’m done,” I say and my words come out hard as I stand up and tower over the desk. James is quick to get up, tugging at one sleeve and then the other on his suit. “I thought you had something to tell me. Something useful and not some delusion that you could use to blackmail me.”

His eyes glint with a darkness at my words. “It’s not blackmail. I haven’t—”

“Fuck you, James,” I say, cutting him off as I turn my back to him to stalk out of the room. It’ll be the last time I come here.

“You know what I can do to you,” James says the threat to my back.

“I’m calling your bluff,” I respond out of anger and instantly regret it, but I don’t stop. All the weeks of not knowing if