Chapter 18

Scarlett POV

Alexander led me into a private room at the back of the restaurant. Along the way, the fishy smell of seafood became increasingly strong.

As soon as I pushed open the door, I saw Reuben sitting by the large round table, sipping slowly from a glass of wine. When he looked up and saw us, his eyes instantly widened.

When his eyes first landed on Alexander, they were filled with fear.

Instantly, that fear was replaced by a more sinister, bloodthirsty emotion as his gaze shifted to me.

Reuben's head was wrapped in thick bandages, the white gauze stained with faint traces of blood—exactly where I had struck him the night before.

The same madness and viciousness he had shown when he tore at my clothes that night now resurfaced in his eyes.

A chill rose from the depths of my spine, causing my body to tremble uncontrollably—an unrestrained fear and vigilance emerging from the very core of my being.

"Well, Mr. Garcia, that's quite a head injury you've got there," Alexander drawled, gracefully taking a seat.

"I suppose that's what they mean by 'it's worth dying beside a beautiful woman.'"

Noah silently appeared behind Alexander with an expensive bottle of whiskey, poured him a large drink, then retreated to stand guard by the door.

Reuben's face twisted with anger. "Alexander, what the fuck do you mean! Are we still going to cooperate or not?"

"Cooperation requires sincerity," Alexander replied, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "And I don't see your sincerity."

"Alexander, your uncle never spoke to me like this when doing business."

Alexander's smile didn't reach his eyes. "He's older, more conservative in his approach. I'm different, my temper isn't as good."

The tension in the room was suffocating. I stood awkwardly to the side, somewhat afraid their argument might affect me.

At this moment, a server entered carrying a large covered platter and placed it in the center of the table.

The aroma of grilled seafood filled the room, but there was another smell, a bloody smell that made me feel nauseated.

"This is a special dish prepared for our meeting," Alexander raised his hand. "Mr. Garcia, please try it first."

Reuben hesitated, then with obvious reluctance reached out to lift the cover.

From my position, I couldn't see what was on the platter, but I saw Reuben's face instantly turn pale. He jerked back, causing his chair to fall with a loud crash.

"Alexan...Alexander, you fucking..." his voice caught in his throat, barely a whisper.

"Tsk, tsk, Mrs. Garcia has been having quite the unfortunate streak at my casino lately. Always losing. Over time, she's accumulated quite a debt."

Alexander's tone was casual, as if discussing the weather.

"She was too afraid to tell you, so I thought I'd bring something that could represent her personally. Specifically, her hand. Consider it an appetizer."

Hearing this, I looked at Alexander in horror. I knew he was dangerous, but this level of cruelty... I grabbed the back of a chair to steady myself as bile rose in my throat.

"Scarlett," Alexander's voice was like a demon's whisper. "Go apologize to Mr. Garcia. Even if Mr. Garcia was disrespectful, you shouldn't have hit him like that."

"Mr. Gray, you want me to—" I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Go pour him a drink and apologize." His blue eyes glittered with malice. "Don't forget the seafood."

His every word was like a lash, carrying an suffocating sense of oppression.

I could only walk stiffly to Reuben's side, my hand trembling as I poured whiskey into his glass.

He didn't even spare me a glance, his eyes fixed on the plate, his breathing heavy and rapid, as if he might explode at any moment.

"I... I'm sorry about last night, Mr. Garcia," I barely squeezed out the words, almost inaudible.

Alexander gestured impatiently. "The seafood, Scarlett. Don't be rude." His words dripped with condescending cruelty.

My trembling hand reached toward the plate. When I saw the thing lying between the carefully arranged shellfish and decorations, my mind simply stopped functioning.

A woman's hand—pale, with manicured nails, adorned with an expensive ring—lay there like some horrifying installation art piece, a living, breathing nightmare.

My sanity collapsed in that moment.

I lunged to the trash can in the corner, nearly vomiting out my own bile. The room filled only with the sound of my retching.

When I finally straightened up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, Alexander was watching me with an expression that was neither a smile nor a frown.

His gaze was like a scalpel, capable of cutting me open and reveling in every inch of my pain and vulnerability.

"Let's go." Alexander looked at Noah. "Make sure Mr. Garcia finishes this food." He then called over his driver Luke: "Take a video and send it to Richard anonymously."

Noah and Luke exchanged glances and nodded. I suppressed my fear and followed Alexander out of the private room.

"Entertaining?" Alexander asked casually, lighting a cigarette.

"Alexander, did you just—" I couldn't even finish the question.

"For someone brave enough to crack someone's head open with a bottle, your tolerance is quite fragile." His eyes gleamed with mockery. "Yet you dare to provoke me."

"It was you who—" I began, anger momentarily overriding my fear.

"Yes, yes, I'm at fault," he conceded with a dismissive wave, but obviously he just didn't care. "But you can't avoid these things anymore; there will only be more in the future."

Before I could respond, he was already walking toward the black Rolls-Royce parked at the curb. I hurried after him, with too many questions in my heart that I wanted answers to.

"Alexander!" I called out.

He stopped mid-step, his hand resting on the car door.

Just as he was about to speak, the phone rang, and his expression instantly softened, as if the entire world had melted in that moment.

"Hey? Missing me?"

I stood there in shock, unable to believe my own ears. I had never heard him speak in such a tone—his attitude toward me had always been nothing but brutal, sarcastic, mocking...

"I'll come to you right now," he whispered tenderly.

Without sparing me another glance, Alexander drove away immediately.

I was left standing alone, the bitter taste of bile permeating my mouth. Now, I felt that bitterness had infiltrated every single one of my senses.

Noah's towering figure slowly emerged from the restaurant.

"Miss Smith, I'll take you home now." His voice was terrifyingly calm, like a stagnant pool of water.

I nodded mechanically, my throat seemingly blocked, unable to squeeze out a single word.

He had come out so quickly—had he already completed that nauseating task Alexander had assigned?