1 WEEK AGO
Damien's POV
No matter how hard she tried to hide the look in her eyes, she couldn't. Jessica was staring at the coffee in my hand and, at the same time, trying not to.
People get addicted to things all the time: money, power, drugs, and here she was losing her mind over a cup of coffee. I found it so fucking adorable I wanted to smile, but I couldn't.
I pulled out the plastic bag containing the weapon and threw it on the table. I had her attention now; her eyes widened slightly, and she looked away from the coffee, started scanning the room with her eyes, obviously checking if anyone was watching before she snapped.
"Have you lost your mind?!" she whisper-yelled.
"Not in the slightest," I replied casually.
"What if someone sees..."
"I am not that stupid. I sold out the place, and Jones over there is dumb; he can't speak. Plus, I do business here all the time. It's the one place I know isn't bugged. Even my office and home aren't safe," I said, and she folded her arms across her chest.
I have met a lot of women in my life, but Jessica was the one person whose kindness seemed to infuriate me for whatever reason.
"So you have been involved in more than one assassination case. You surprise me, Mr. Castillo. You seem to like damsels in distress," she said. There was a slight teasing edge to her voice, but I could see it in the way she pulled her skirt further down her knees when there was absolutely nothing to pull up; she was nervous.
"Look at it," I said, motioning to the weapon. She held my gaze for a moment before she opened the bag, examining the blade with her hands. Her lips slightly parted.
"Fascinating. This is a knife forged in the 18th century; it is gorgeous," Jess said.
That's the girl I wanted, the girl who saw her assassination weapon and called it gorgeous. I didn't need Mia's annoying friend; I needed Francis Backlay's daughter, and she was right in front of me—someone who isn't afraid of death.
"Very odd thing to say about a weapon that was used to almost take your life," I said.
"When you look at it like that..." she said, not bothering to look at me.
"You seem quite knowledgeable about knives," I said, and she put the knife back into the plastic bag.
"Yeah, my mom was a collector," she said with a shrug.
"And your dad?" I asked, and the infuriated look was back on her face again.
"What do you want, Damien?" she asked.
"What I want is something that could be very beneficial to both you and me," I said, leaning forward.
"What makes you think there's anything you say that I will be interested in?" she said.
"Well, you are here, aren't you? You wouldn't come if you didn't think there was," I asked with a smirk.
"You have five minutes to tell me what you have been trying to get at, or I will walk away," she said, but I knew she wouldn't; the curiosity in her eyes said it all.
"I want your help taking the Conswinks down," I said, and she narrowed her eyes.
"You are one of the most powerful men in the world..."
"So is Mr. Conswink," I interjected.
"So I am here because you want some puny revenge about something?" she asked.
"No, that would be ridiculous. You are here because I want to have the puny revenge with you," I said.
"I am so lost," she said, but leaned forward.
"I have a score to settle with the Conswinks, and you do too. Together we could take him down," I said, and she narrowed her eyes at me.
"What made you think I could be of help to you? I am just a charity foundation owner; I don't have that kind of power," she said.
"Bullshit! You are Francis Backlay's daughter; you have plenty of power," I said, my voice rising a bit.
"And you are Mr. Roberto Castillo's son. What's your point here?" she asked in such an innocent and sincere tone, I almost gave her an Oscar.
"I know you have the files," I said. She paused; I noticed her fingers drumming on her bag.
"I don't know what you are talking about," she said. Again, an Oscar.
"The files your father had—I know you still have them," I said.
"Those files died along with Francis Backlay, so I suggest you check your facts before you speak to me, Mr. Castillo," she said, grabbing her bag and standing up to leave. "This conversation is over."
I let her walk a few inches away. I wasn't stupid; of course, I knew most people had approached her like this, hurling 'accusations,' and she had gotten used to the acting.
I wasn't stupid, and because I wasn't stupid, I stepped into plan B.
"Your father..." I said, before she could turn the handle of the door to leave, and she paused, her back still turned.
"Your father isn't dead," I said, and she turned to me sharply.
Don't you just love plan Bs?
"I saw him," I said, and she started walking back to me. I wanted to smile, but I didn't because I knew she would walk away.
"Not officially, though. There were rumors that he had returned—none truly confirmed—until a few weeks ago. I saw him in a nightclub. I didn't see his face, but I saw his rings," I said.
She swallowed hard.
"That could have belonged to anyone," she said after a minute of silence.
"Yeah, but it was him. I was sure of it. He was discussing something with one of Conswink's men. I suspect that the assassination attempt was his doing. The commissioner had a hand in it, of course, but it wasn't ultimately his idea," I said. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head; she shifted in her seat, uncomfortable.
"Why? He is my father..."
"And you stole from him," I said. "Look, Jessica, we can keep doing this back-and-forth thing, but you know the truth: if Francis Backlay is truly back, you can't deal with him on your own. You need me just as much as I need you."
"We would work together: you kill two birds with one stone, and I kill one bird," I said, flashing my teeth at her.
I let her sit with it for a while before I stretched out my hand.
"Do we have a deal?" I asked.
I saw her fidget a little, parting her lips and considering her options.
Just as she stretched out her hand as well, I looked over to Jones to see him still in the same position he had been for almost an hour now. It made me frown, and then my eyes widened in realization.
"What is it?" Jessica asked, and I pulled her down the table.
"Someone is here," I said just before the gunshots started.