Beneath These Scars (Beneath #4)

My smile died. “I can’t keep them all, Jerome. Otherwise I’d be living in the back room instead of my apartment.”


“Understandable, but surely . . . This one, it’s exquisite.”

“They’re all exquisite, trust me. I need to have some willpower.”

“Speaking of your apartment, you had some sort of trouble there? Have you sorted that out yet?”

The lunch I’d just eaten rolled in my stomach, and I forced a smile. “It’ll be fine. I’ll handle it today after I get out of work. I just got spooked, is all. You’d think that a girl who’d grown up in Tremé wouldn’t be capable of being spooked.”

Jerome turned and crossed the shop to stand in front of the counter. “I think we’re all capable of being spooked. Do you want to tell me about it?”

“It’s fine. Not an issue.”

Surprisingly, I did feel the urge to spill and tell him everything. Was it his kind blue eyes, or the way he seemed to be so even-tempered? It had taken me a lot of years to trust my gut again when it came to people, but my instincts told me that Jerome was a good person—and a good ally.

But his close connection to Titan stopped me from sharing my entire life story. It was a sad one anyway—married at eighteen, broken ribs by my husband at nineteen, and still I stayed with him for another two years, perfecting my makeup skills covering bruises. No, I wouldn’t share that. I didn’t want to see those kind eyes shadowed by pity.

Jerome raised a gray eyebrow. “If you change your mind, the offer does not have an expiration date, my dear.”

I was saved from having to reply by the chime of the door and four new customers.

Oh Lord, these girls already had beads and their hands were wrapped around plastic hurricane glasses. This would be interesting.





YVE’S CAR WAS A PIECE of shit. I had the mechanic doctor the bill to show that it only cost $300 to get it fixed, when in reality the thing was barely fit to be on the road. I had a strong suspicion that Yve would insist on paying me back, and there was no way in hell I would let her give me the five grand it had actually cost to make the Jetta safe enough to drive.

Idly, I wondered if she’d noticed the keys to the Aston. Even more, I was curious if she’d actually take it for a spin. Knowing her, she would never even think about leaving the shop while it was open, but it amused me all the same to leave the keys as an answer to her taunt.

I was not a good man. I didn’t have a heart of gold; I had a heart that knew how to make gold. Midas was the comparison I received most often. But it seemed the project in front of me was going to turn to shit rather than gold.

Knowing that Yve was in good hands with Jerome, I forced my thoughts away from her. He was former British Special Forces, and even at the ripe old age of seventy, he could still kill a man with his bare hands. He could also make even the most stubborn woman unbend a rigidly stiff spine.

Shit. I was thinking about her again. This wasn’t acceptable.

The door to my office opened and Colson entered. Finally, a welcome distraction.

“Have you contacted the senators on my list?” I asked, not wasting a breath on greetings or small talk. That wasn’t how Colson and I worked.

“Yes. Hendricks and Shuman are willing to meet for dinner to discuss it. They of course picked the priciest place in town, and you know it’s on your dime.”

“Like I care.”

“I know you don’t, but I never cease to be amused by the greed of some of these politicians.”

“Good. What else?”

Colson said nothing but his gaze darted to the windows, telling me there was something he didn’t want to share.

“What?” I asked.

“Have you thought about just agreeing to Haines’s request? It’s one favor. Your marker. It’s really not that big of an ask, Lucas, and it would get us over the finish line without having to deal with all these other politicians and environmental groups.”

The question was a fair one, but that didn’t mean it didn’t grate on me. “I don’t pay you to question my judgment. I’m not going there unless we have no other alternative.”

Colson shrugged. “Your choice.”

And it was. This was my empire, and no one but me would decide how it moved forward.

But it seemed Colson wasn’t done. “I know how much this means to you—”

“Don’t. Do not fucking psychoanalyze me. This is business.”

Colson crossed his arms and stared me down. “Anyone else might believe you, but I know the truth. You won’t be able to rest until you’ve proven your father wrong—and made billions doing it.”

I slammed my palms down on my desk. “Leave it alone.”

“You wanna lie to yourself, go for it.”

I’d said something very similar to Yve earlier, and I hated having my own words thrown back at me.

“Get out. Go do your damn job.”

Colson nodded. “Fine. Be a stubborn bastard.”