Page 106 of Penance

He scoffs, his eyes narrowing.

“I know all about yourintentions. You got my daughter pregnant.”

His voice is low, a whisper.

He doesn’t want anyone to hear.

He and his wife could be excommunicated. Mercy could be, too.

“Mr. Clarke, I have to be frank. While I do hope for your blessing, I do not need it. Mercy is 25 years old. She is an adult.”

I lean back in my chair, and I make sure he’s watching as I flash him a wink.

“She’s all grown up now.”

He studies me, his gaze piercing, as if trying to peel back my layers, to see if I’m lying.

Because he thinks I am.

He leans back, matching my body language. I can see the wheels turning in his mind, the internal struggle playing out behind his eyes. I’ve given him something to think about. And now, I just have to wait, to let my words sink in, to let reality settle over him.

He leans in, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles bleed white, and the fingers pulse red. I can see the vein throbbing in his temple.

“How much?” he asks, his voice a low tone meant to keep our conversation private.

I cock my head, feigning ignorance.

“How much what, Mr. Clarke?”

“How much will it take for you to leave Mercy alone? To walk away from this… situation? Ten thousand? More?”

A surge of anger courses through me, hot and throbbing, but I keep it in check.

For now.

My hands, resting on the table, curl inward. I want him to see my tattoos. I want the serpent to stare him in the face. I want him to know what he’s up against.

“You think this is about money?” I ask, my voice a soft, dangerous whisper. “You think I can be bought?”

He scoffs.

“I think you’re a man who knows the value of a dollar.”

“I have millions,” I growl. “You have nothing.”

My anger morphs into something cold, something deadly. Now, it’s dangerous, and I’m worried. I should walk away, but I can’t.

“You think I’m a monster, Mr. Clarke,” I say, leaning in. “And maybe I am. But I’m the monster that will protect your daughter and her child. I’m a man who will put a ring on her finger. What will the church think of her if I don’t? An unwed mother is a pariah, and you know it.”

He sneers, a look of disgust twisting his features.

“You? Protect her? You don’t know the meaning of the word. You’re a poison, Draco. A poison that will ruin Mercy’s life.”

The darkness within me roars, and I lunge, the table rocking as I grip the front of his shirt. His eyes widen in shock and fear, his breath hitching as I pull him close, inches away from my face. I want him to hear every word—to feel it sink into his blood.

“Listen to me, old man,” I growl, and my voice holds the promise of violence. “That is my baby, and Mercy is my girl. If you get between us, and try to keep her away from me? I will kill you. Do you understand me?”

“Sir, please!” A waiter appears beside the table, a short, fat, red-haired man with crooked teeth, his hands fluttering nervously as he steps up to the table. “I-I need to ask you to leave. Now. P-please?”

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