Page 14 of Fifth Avenue Fling

“We’re aware of that,” Alfred Jr. growls. “We can see the bulldozers from the restaurant window. The noise is driving our customers away.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Alfred Jr. hisses in response like the meathead I expected him to be. He slams his fist on the table, making the water glasses shake.

“Hold up, Son,” his father cuts in, leveling him with a stern look. He places a hand over his son’s before turning his attention back to me. “Killian. You’re putting me out of business with your bulldozers.”

“Which is why you should accept my generous offer.”

Senior blanches. “So… what? You’re going to ruin this community with a gaudy hotel and casino?”

“It’s a prime plot of land near JFK,” I point out calmly, drumming my fingers on the table with mild impatience. “Not a community center to drink tea in. Be sensible.”

“Sit down, son,” Senior snaps as Junior makes to stand. He grabs his son’s arm and forces him back down into his seat. “So that’s it? We have two options. Either sell our livelihood to you or watch you destroy it by building around us?”

“I would advise taking option one,” I respond crisply. “I was expecting to have a sensible conversation with you today.”

We’ve offered Marek a package that could give his family financial stability for life but he’s too blinded by pride to take it.

Jr. growls something in Polish.

“Mr. Quinn,” their lawyer pipes up from the corner, clutching papers that are probably props. Fucking useless. I forgot he was even in the room. “You leave us no option but to seek an injunction from the courts under the Nuisance Law.”

Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, I take it out.Connor.For a moment, the phone is the center of attention; a chance for the Mareks to regroup. Canceling Connor, I slide the phone back down on the table, out of arm’s reach of the moronic son in case he fancies himself as a vandal.

“The hotel is going ahead on that land. We have your accounts; my offer is much more than the restaurant is worth,” I remind them. “I was in a bidding war for the land with five other property developers. The others were willing to offer you half of what I did. See this as an opportunity, not a threat.”

“Real fucking saint you are, Quinn,” Alfred Jr. spits. I look in disgust at where droplets have landed on the table. “You sit in your glass box, thinking you’re better than us. You think you can forget your roots? Your family came from nothing.”

“Are you done?” I ask him coldly. “Because you’ve made life a whole lot more difficult for yourself.”

I tap on my phone to alert security.

“Our community won’t let this happen.” Alfred Jr. rises to his feet. “It’ll be burned to the ground with all your fucking high-rollers from the island in it. You don’t have support in Queens, and now you don’t have any in Brooklyn either.”

I regard him coolly. Nothing new there. I grew up in Queens. Killian Quinn Sr., from whom I inherited my genes, was a lowlife, according to every Irishman within a ten-mile radius. A man who would show up to a dead man’s send-off for the free food and then bed his widow. Unfortunately, his reputation extended to the wider family. Fortunately, he died before I hit my teens.

“Time’s up,” I say, my voice level. I slip my phone back into my pocket and stand, pushing my chair back as there’s a knock on the door. A security guard opens it, raising his brow at me. He’s danced this dance before. Two other guards linger behind him.

“Seek injunctions, protest, try to blow the place up. You won’t win against me, Alfred.” I address Sr. because Jr. is a fucking idiot. “I thought you were smarter than this. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another meeting.”

Alfred Sr. rises to his feet to join his son. “I almost feel sorry for you, Quinn. You don’t understand what it means to be part of a community, do you?”

“After you.” I gesture with my palms for them to get out as the two security guards come between the Mareks and me.

I turn to Sarah and the paralegal kiddo sweating buckets, now on their feet and anxious to leave. “Sarah, inform the team that we’ll need to modify our construction phases since the Mareks’ refuse to negotiate.”

We’ll build around them.

“I don’t know why we expected anything different from a psychopath. Everyone in Queens knows what you did,” Jr. sneers from behind me.

Everyone freezes.

The words trickle under my skin like parasites.

I slowly pivot to face him.

His eyes spark withsmugsatisfaction, pleased that his parting jab provoked a reaction.

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