♤PACTS♤

Chapter 14 - Dinning with knives

Danny Torent's POV

For as long as I can remember, I've always had a thing for the colour red. There were red roses in the garden of my childhood home, the rooms in my room were painted red, and even my toys didn't escape the bright colour.

But one of my favourite shades of red was the one on my mother's head. She always allowed me to play with it while she spoke softly, "One day at a time."

"You know Torent," I look up to the present Don, or should I say Doña of the Spanish Mafia.

"We eat our food here, not stare death into it."

I narrowed my eyes at her and diverted my attention from the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table.

"And I assume the food needs an extra layer of make-up for digestion?" I tease her slightly.

Carlos snorted out loud, "It seems I'm out of the loop here. Did anything happen in the tower?" He says with his accent coming out in tight waves.

He looks from me to his daughter, trying to find out what's going on, but he should know that some deals stay hidden till the last part of it is complete.

"It's nothing, Padre." Rae Jean forced out a smile to her father and went back to eating.

I studied her as she ate.

Although her hair was still in a low ponytail, the makeup on her pale skin did well to highlight her soft features. Her hood was down but was still clipped under her chin.

She had an air around her that screamed lethal as she ate with preciseness and an elegant posture.

I turned my attention to her father. His receding hairline allowed his forehead to be highlighted with the sweat dripping from the sides of his head.

Carlos might be a man in his fifties, but he still had his tan skin glowing as if he was still in his youth. He ate with calmness and ease, unlike his spawn.

It's either Rae Jean was adopted, or there was something that I was missing because these two looked and acted nothing alike.

The sound of wheels on the floor filled the air and started coming closer to where we ate. The smell of cigars was getting thicker as well.

Father and daughter exchanged eye contact, and the relaxed posture that Carlos was once sporting disappeared.

I frowned a bit, dropped my fork and reached for the small gun in the waistband of my jeans.

Whoever was coming was either going to be a friend or foe. The way Rae Jean and her father are acting, I'm assuming it's a foe.

The wheeling noise finally reached the dining room, and the cloud of smoke covered everywhere.

I frowned deeper as I took in the sight of a younger-looking Carlos.

It can't be.

"Having dinner without me?" The tone was hard to miss. It was similar to the one Jordan used on me when we last met.

The man in the wheelchair rolled further into the room, "Not that I'm surprised. I guess only those with working legs can eat then."

Carlos cleared his throat but didn't say anything while Rae Jean moved her plate away and used the hood of her cloak to cover her head.

"I guess I'd fix myself my own meal then." A bitter smile covered his face as he wheeled himself to his father.

Before he could get closer, Rae Jean pulled a knife from nowhere and held it out, pointing it toward the man in the wheelchair.