Page 54 of Break Me Beautifully

"I don't want it. I don't want any part of this!"

"You think you have achoice?"Bradford snaps. I glower at him, fighting every urge I have to flinch or back down. "The second we met, your fate was sealed. I thought you'd be happy, but fine, I'll settle for you being a reluctant participant." His nostrils flare as his voice rises. "No one walks away from the mafia, girl. Not while we still need them."

"I thought you were giving me an opportunity," I say, vitriol dripping from my tongue. "I was so nervous meeting you. I had no reason to be. You're not some impressive art critic. You're just a pathetic little man."

Before I can do anything, Bradford smacks me across the cheek with the stack of bills. I flinch, holding my face, glaring at him hotly. Something rumbles over my head, like a rocket preparing to launch from the Earth. Marshall is snarling.

He shoves around me, the first time he's left his position, storming aggressively into Bradford's space. His arm shoots forward to grip the front of the other man's shirt before he can retreat. "Don't youdaretouch her!" he seethes, pushing his nose close to Bradford's.

There's a small motion behind them. Seya and Burgh, their hands on their guns, their smiles taut, like they're entertained but waiting to see if they shouldn't be. Min is unfazed as she hovers over the table of drinks. I can taste the tension in the air, but the only person showing any emotion is Marshall.

He's furious. Beyond furious. His hand stark white as he tightly clenches Bradford's shirt, the tattoos standing out on his bloodless skin.

"Marshall," I say, eyeing the guns, filling with fear that he'll do something that will get him killed. "It's okay. I'm okay."

"You heard her," Bradford says sweetly, still clenching the cash in his fists. "Don't do anything you'd regret, Klintock. You know you can't kill me. Benson Lucardo would come down on you like a hammer for harming one of his most lucrative ventures."

"Don't be so sure Benson wouldn't let me rip your throat out," Marshall says, his eyes flashing. "He's let me kill people when I asked him nicely before. He likes me more than he likes you."

There. I spot the sweat dripping down Bradford's temple.

Benson Lucardo.The Underboss Marshall told me about.

Seya and Burgh aren't smiling anymore. "Yo, Klintock, back off," Burgh says.

"Yeah. Our boss likes this operation Bradford runs. Chill it," Seya agrees.

With a sharp shove that makes Bradford retreat a few steps, Marshall turns his back on the group. It's an act of boldness. A broadcast that he has no fear they'll shoot him when he's vulnerable.

I don't know if the men have put away their weapons because I've made my own fatal mistake. I'm looking right at Marshall's face. I see the simmering intensity in his eyes, how the black is richer than ever, deeper than the void, and focused on me.

Always me.

"You shouldn't have done that," I whisper for his ears only.

His beautiful lips that have kissed me so much and not enough shape into a defeated smile that caresses my heart. "I didn't have a choice," he whispers back.

Seya crushes his cigar in his empty glass and takes a sip from the fresh one Min gave him. "Enough drama already. I'm taking my share. I've got places to be." He fishes a handful of bills from Bradford’s case. Burgh hunches off the sofa to join in.

Anotherpopcracks through the air.More champagne,I think. But Marshall grabs me tight against his chest, throws us both to the rug so fast my vision blurs. My purse and sketchbook fly from my arms, my cheek scrapes on the rough floor. My hair flies in front of my face, leaving me struggling to make sense of what I'm seeing.

The door is kicked open. Black boots parade inside, voices shouting all at once. "Don't move! Nobody, move!" One of the new men—they all look the same in their helmets and goggles and charcoal uniforms—aims a handgun at Bradford. Seya and Burgh throw up their arms.

"What the fuck?" Bradford stammers, the money he'd tried to force on me still clenched in his fist. "Why are the cops here?What the fuck is this going on?"

"Freeze!" someone else roars. "Hands in the air!"

I start to lift my head, but Marshall constricts harder until I can barely move. His message is obvious: don't budge an inch. Be still. So I am. Every part of me—except my heart—freezes in place.

"Seriously, what's this about?" Bradford scoffs. "Who let you in here? Do you have a warrant?"

"Grab that," an officer says, gesturing at the cases. Burgh shuts his eyes and makes a face as the cases are snapped shut and carried from the room. He speaks into a device clipped to his bullet proof vest. "It's clear down here, we got them."

"Got what? You don't have shit!" Bradford crows. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Shut the hell up," Seya hisses. "Just shut your mouth."

"Fuck you, Seya. Hey! Officer! Do you have any clue who I am? What the hell are you arresting me for?"

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