Mr. Patterson popped his head up from his computer and looked at me. “I’m sorry, Miss Fane. I can’t tell you that,” he said. “Would you like to leave him a message?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I need to know where he is right now.”
But he just frowned, looking regretful. “I am sorry. I’m not allowed to give out that information.”
I heaved a breath and pulled out my phone, bringing up my pictures. Clicking on one of Trevor, Mr. Crist, and me in May, I flashed him the screen.
“Recognize the man in the middle with his arm around me?” I asked. “Evans Crist. Michael’s father.” My voice turned sharp. “Your boss. My godfather.”
His face fell, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob up and down. I’d never played the “I’m-Going-To-Get-You-Fired” card before, but it was all I had. Now he knew I knew the Crists, so why shouldn’t I know where Michael is?
“Where is he?” I demanded, sliding my phone into my pocket again.
He straightened, dipping his head down and not looking at me. “He left about any hour ago,” he admitted. “He and his friends took a cab to Hunter-Bailey for dinner.”
I shoved away from the counter, rushing out the front doors.
Turning left, I ran down the city sidewalk, veering around other pedestrians and racing through crosswalks as I made my way down to the gentlemen’s club several blocks from Delcour.
I breathed hard, a light layer of sweat covering my stomach and back as I finally jogged up the stairs of the old stone building, my legs burning from the rush I’d made to get here.
I was done thinking. Done wondering and pondering. He’d stolen from me and my family, and my blood was burning.
Fuck him.
I entered the building and stepped up to the front desk. “Where’s Michael Crist?” I demanded.
The attendant, in his pressed black suit and midnight blue tie, squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes on me.
“Well, he’s dining right now, ma’am,” he told me, and then I caught the flash of his eyes to the wooden double doors to my right. “May I help—”
But I was gone. I charged for the doors, not waiting to be turned away or told what to do.
I grabbed both handles and turned the knobs, throwing the doors open.
“Miss!” the attendant exclaimed. “Miss! You can’t go in there!”
But I didn’t even hesitate. Screw their stupid “No Women Allowed” rule.
I walked in, my skin buzzing under the surface and my heart racing with a new high. I twisted my head left and right, vaguely taking in the room full of men in their fancy suits, with their clinking glasses and cigar smoke sitting in the air above their heads.
I finally halted, my eyes finding Michael, Kai, Damon, and Will sitting at a round table in the back. I stormed through the room, passing tables of onlookers and waiters carrying trays.
“Excuse me, ma’am!” one of them called as I shot past.
But I wasn’t stopping.
I charged over, seeing Michael turn his eyes on me, finally aware of my presence, but before he could say anything, I reached down and grabbed the bottom on the tablecloth and yanked it off, carrying all of the glasses, plates, and silverware with it.
“Shit!” Will shouted.
Everything crashed to the hardwood floor, and Kai, Will, and Damon shot back in their seats, trying to avoid the mess of food and drink spilling everywhere.
I dropped the tablecloth and steeled my jaw, glaring into Michael’s amused eyes as I stood up straight and demanded their fucking attention.
The chatter around the room had stopped, and I knew all eyes were on me.
“Miss?” a male voice charged, coming up next to me. “You need to leave.”
But I didn’t budge. I stared at Michael, challenging him.
He finally glanced at the man next to me and waved him off.
As soon as he was gone, I stepped up to the table, not caring who heard me or who was looking.
“Where is my money?” I growled.
“In my account.”
But it wasn’t Michael who answered. I looked to Kai, seeing a small smirk on his lips.
“And mine.”
I twisted my head, turning my eyes on Will and seeing his cocky grin.
“And mine,” Damon added.
I shook my head, trying to keep my body from shaking. “You’ve all gone too far,” I breathed out, shocked.
“There’s no such thing,” Kai replied. “What we can do, we will.”
“Why?” I burst out. “What did I ever do to you?”
“If I were you,” Damon joined in, “I’d be more concerned with what we’re going to do to you.”
What? Why were they doing this?
Michael leaned forward in his chair and placed his forearms on the table.
“Your house is gone,” he stated. “Your money and property? Liquidated. And where is your mother?”
My eyes rounded, realization slowly dawning as I saw the suggestion in his eyes.
My mother wasn’t on a yacht. I’d been played.
“Oh, my God,” I murmured to myself.
“You belong to us now,” Michael declared. “You’ll have money when we think you deserve it.”
I narrowed my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat. “There’s no way you’ll get away with this!”