Taste of Sin

28| Acceptance

Chapter 28: Acceptance (Ace's POV)

I sat in the chair across from Wilson, catching my breath. I looked down at my knuckles, which were still bloody, and then looked up at his face, which was twice as bloody. Tonight I thought, let's give what my wife said a try, let's play nice. Again. And what do you know, it worked for a while. 

But when the questions got too difficult for the asshole, he started lying. 

And I started getting angry, so then I started hitting and beating. Then I stopped. After just a few punches, I stopped myself. But the questions were now different. The questions were: 

Why the fuck were you at my wife's office?
How dare you show up at my wife's office?
And who told you that you could go to her office? 

And this, stupid gentleman here thought the right answer was he was looking for me and could go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted. His exact words were, "Why? What's so fucking wrong with it, Ace? I can go wherever I want and do whatever I want to whoever I want. Even your pretty little wife. I bet she'd do it too since she's too stupid to understand our world." And if he answers me like that, then why would I stop the punches and kicks that I was throwing at him? 

So, I didn't. 

I would have blown his brains out with a bullet if I could. I didn't though. I just settled for a shot in the leg. I grabbed the black towel from the bowl of cold water and wiped my hands clean, tossing it on the floor once I finished. 

"Now, Wilson. Let's come back to my money. You, sir, have one more week. And you already know what happens otherwise. All the people we're still protecting you from, all the people we're paying for you, all the people we're protecting your son from... It'll stop, my friend. Your son is no little child, he's a grown, twenty-five-year-old man. You pulled him into your mess, learn to protect him on your own. And give me my money on time. Your brains or your son's, I really don't care. You're free to go." 

He scoffed dryly, standing up while trying to balance himself. He limped out and went downstairs where I knew Nicholas was waiting. Nicholas is our family doctor if you will. Business doctor, maybe? He takes care of my dad and me in case of any injuries but also of the people I beat the shit out of. Because I still need my clients alive and healing so I get my money. That's what matters, at the end of the day. 

I sighed, tilting my head back and staring at the ceiling while I heard the door open and Owen walk in. "Will you head home now? I'll have the mess that is this room cleaned." 

I could smell the bleach in the janitor's bucket. I stood up, grabbing my jacket but not bothering to put it on. I sat in my chair, looking at the bruises and cuts on my knuckles and the blood from them which was mine, not Wilson's. "Go ahead and clean. I never leave the office to you, tonight isn't different. I'll be the one to lock up. Go ahead. Clean." I shrugged. 

Owen came and sat in the chair across from me and the cleaner of our club started cleaning. I winced a little, stretching my fingers. 

"Do you want a first aid kit?" 

"No, I'll be fine. What is it, Owen? Spit it out." I looked up at him. 

"Look at you." 

I looked down at myself. The black button-up I had on was concealing stains of Wilson's blood, my sleeves were rolled up to elbows, keeping it out of the way, and I had some of my own cuts and bruises on my hands and forearms. "What?" 

"What does Mrs. Allister think about this?" He leaned forward, spinning the glass ball paperweight like a Beyblade. 

"Mrs. Allister isn't part of this world and I want it to stay that way."