Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(103)

No one’s coming for me this time.

“I thought I’d seen it all, dear Valerie. Then you did the impossible. You surprised me. I found out who your boyfriend is.” Cornaro smiles like a particularly ugly shark. “The infamous Flint Calum.”

My insides frost at the way he snarl’s Flint’s name, almost like he knows him intimately.

I don’t understand. How?

Cornaro continues pacing in front of us in these slow, languid laps. Like he has all the time in the world to keep up this torment.

“He ruined a very important demonstration of mine, once upon a time, and lived to tell the tale,” he says. “I should’ve known I hadn’t seen the last of a man who’d come halfway around the world, chasing after a marked woman.”

Oh, God. The dead woman. The Bali kidnapping. That has to be what he’s talking about.

Throwing an ugly gaze at Ray, Cornaro pulls out a lighter that’s just as gold as his necklaces and takes a long draw off his cigar, making the tip glow red. “All I was after was a little fishing company to help my wares reach their lovely buyers. Seems I’ve hit the jackpot purely by chance.”

He steps closer.

I flinch back, hating that I do, wishing I could spit right in his face.

“I should be in Vegas. You’d make a ravishing Lady Luck,” he says, his wretched eyes crawling all over me. “Although...I have more money than anyone in Vegas. First world problems, I know. Gambling with money grows passé with more interesting collateral.”

Ray, who can barely sit up, tightens his hold on my hand. “She doesn’t have anything to do with King Heron. I told you that, asshole. Leave her alone.”

“Ah, but she does have something to do with Mr. Calum, doesn’t she?” Cornaro’s slick smile fades as he steps closer. “And you never told me.”

“He didn’t know,” I say.

Cornaro doesn’t look my way, still glaring at Ray. Then his hand arcs up, pressing the red-orange end of his cigar against my brother’s forehead.

Ray doesn’t scream, but I do.

I lunge, grabbing at his arm, pulling as hard as I can. “Stop it! Stop it, you freak!”

He’s stronger than he looks, shoving me back in the cushions. Cornaro pulls the cigar away from Ray’s head with a low chuckle, and then sticks the cigar back in his mouth before leaning down to blow a thick smoke contrail in my face.

I want to gag, I want to run, I want to...

I desperately want to see someone put a cigar out on this man’s head.

He’s the devil himself. The raw hatred inside me grows as I stare at him, never looking away. He’s a natural bully, and I won’t give him what he wants. I won’t let him intimidate me.

He’s not even all that massive, not nearly as tall or broad as Flint. Or as handsome.

Though I’m sure he thinks he is. He’s vain and arrogant. His trim frame and neatly pressed clothes say appearance means a lot to him. The black slacks and white shirt are expensive, too, and so are those ridiculous glittering chains around his neck.

It’s like he’s a flashback to some bad eighties film.

God. I never thought I’d die by a freaking trope.

Letting out another disgusting laugh, Cornaro straightens, taking a few steps away from us.

I turn to Ray. My stomach revolts at the red circle on his forehead. It’s already blistering.

He’s so battered, so beaten, he’s hardly recognizable. I squeeze his hand.

He shakes his head. There’s true sorrow in his eyes, the same message over and over bleeding out of him.

I’m sorry, Val.

“If you know what’s good for you, Ms. Gerard, you’ll be kind to this freak.” His eyes grow dark as he spits back what I called him. “If you want a chance to say goodbye to your boyfriend one last time.” With a dark chortle, he adds, “And your dear family.”

Clamping my back teeth together, I will myself not to react. Not visibly.

On the inside, I’m shaking, crying, falling to pieces.

“Did your brother ever tell you what happened?” he asks. “Why he’s left me no choice but this nasty scorched earth approach?”

I don’t move a muscle.

“She doesn’t know anything,” Ray snarls. “Leave her the fuck alone. It’s me you want.”

I swallow a sob, horrified at how Ray, weak and hurt, keeps trying to protect me.

“Bah, I’ve had you for ages, you little worm,” Cornaro says. “Had you in my pocket for years. Just like Stanley. I paid him well to let me transport my cargo on his fleet, but after one missing ship blown to pieces by a competitor and that one little incident in Bali, he got wind that perhaps all of my dealings weren’t kosher. He thought he’d pull out of our partnership.”

Partnership? He couldn’t be the man my father partnered with. That’s impossible.

Cornaro’s glare falls on Ray again. “Dear old dad, however, wasn’t as stupid as his worming son. Stanley knew the art of compromise and knew how to talk to me, man to man.”

I lean forward, trying to put myself between the mob boss and my brother.

Ray can’t take much more punishment.

“Your father knew the pecking order and who wired money to his Swiss bank account.” Cornaro stabs a thumb at his chest, leaving no doubt. “And he didn’t piss all over himself like an infant when a few ships were lost in my little high seas trade war with the boys from Hong Kong. I paid you every dime in damages on top of the insurance you cashed in, and you still cried like a little baby, Rayman. You wouldn’t shut up about your boys and girls lost on those ships, saying they deserved better.”