Page 29 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

I grimace down at him. “You may need to book in for a rhinoplasty.”

“Sure, I’ll find the most expensive plastic surgeon, since you’re paying for all of the damage caused.”

“The unit was a fucking arm and a leg to purchase. You can forget the rhinoplasty and learn to take a joke.” I take a seat in the visitor chair, stretching out my legs. “If any new information has come to you since the attack, please tell me now.”

“I already told you everything.”

Which was basically fucking nothing.

“You sure you didn’t get a glimpse of this man? Perhaps the color of his eyes? His age? Young or old?”

“No,” says Lenny. “But the attacker was definitely male.” He rises in the bed with much effort, grimacing as he shuffles up to the headboard.

I turn and watch the news broadcast playing on TV, a good-for-nothing journalist repeating the same shit as his co-workers. Killing is illegal, and yet repeating lies is no problem at all.

“I thought you were better than this,” I say, signaling to the TV. “I would rather watch paint try than this nonsense.”

“Ten minutes ago, you were the nonsense,” chuckles Lenny, watching me with amusement. “Your dealings with the stock exchange is everyone’s business, as is your face on the latest issue of Vogue Men. Congratulations on being Mr. Worldwide.”

I grind my jaw. “You know I don’t give a fuck about publicity.”

“Perhaps not, what did you expect? You’re a rich womanizer. That makes you very marketable.”

“I’m not a womanizer,” I grumble.

“Says the man who hired a hot, blonde Victoria's Secret model to be his executive assistant.” Lenny sniffs a laugh. “Her face said it all when she stumbled into your office at the wrong time. Excuse me for interrupting your one-to-one meeting…”

“Miss Bennett is a very resourceful young woman. I hired her because she does a good job for me.”

“With her mouth.”

I rise from the chair, glancing at Lenny pointedly. “How’s the broken nose holding up? I’ll gladly finish the job your mystery attacker started if you continue degrading my assistant.”

“Whatever you say,” drawls Lenny, rolling his eyes. “You should take publicity tips from David Hale,” he suggests, gesturing to the TV as the camera pans. “At least he tries to make a lasting impression with the public.”

“Tries,” I repeat, studying the screen. “Keyword. Even philanthropists are seen as the devil in the eyes of the public.”

“Everyone with a bit of money to their name these days is seen as the devil,” adds Lenny.

“Which is ten percent of the population.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “Money polarizes people, and this city is starting to become an economical disaster.”

I grind my jaw, wishing people would just take their medication and stay in the boxes their families put them in. They should be grateful they actually have a family, people to relate to, to call home.

I watch the TV, deciding to stay quiet about David Hale for now. My informant doesn’t need to know that this man was also in the Crows, capitalizing on the skills he was taught as a boy, building wealth.

David will be at risk too, which explains why he is talking about raising money for orphaned children, wanting them off the streets.

“Every child deserves a roof over their head,” he preaches in front of his audience. “My mission is to ensure every young person has access to clothes, food, shelter and education. No child will be left behind.”

Of course, that’s his mission.

I turn away from the TV as the news cast ends, watching my informant. “When your health is back to normal, I need you back at the storage unit.”

“You purchased the fucking unit,” says Lenny. “Feel free to check the contents out yourself.”

“Even if I cover my face, my identity will still be known to people,” I say. “We spoke about this before.”