𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐄

44

"Dieson?" I call his name as soon as he comes from the bathroom, walking towards that area. He doesn't say anything, only nods at me. "Did I do something?" I wasn't even going to ask him that, I was going to ask if I could call my father on his phone since I still didn't have one.

"What if your father agrees to give my club to the Simons?" one of his fists hall up, shaking, "That would rip me away from you. There's no way that I could be with Cerbey's daughter with my club being owned and protected by Simons. We couldn't be together if Simons was my benefactor then."

"Then don't let Simons be your benefactor. Hell, don't let my father. Isn't the club makin' enough for you to be able to support it yourself now?" I inquire.

He shakes his head, but I recognize that look.

"You're afraid," I realize, "Afraid to do it alone."

"If I self-fund the club and use our revenue, I'm no longer protected by anyone. What if Simons shows up one day and has his goons surround my place? My security and I will have no choice but to just had it over, then I'll really be without a club."

"So you're worried about protection," I decipher.

Dieson shrugs, "Well- I- Yes," he says.

"When the empire is mine," I walk towards him, "I'll make sure that you don't have to stress like this," I vow.

"You don't needa worry about me, Court," he shakes his head, "Right now, we just need to keep you alive."

"Can I call my dad?"

He digs his phone out and hands it to me.

"Do you think there's a way for Simons to listen in on my call?" I ask him as the phone rings.

"Well, that's just a chance we'll have to take. Wait, why?" he frowns.

"Hello?" my dad answers the phone, sounding more than slightly irritated.

"I'm still alive, punk."

Dieson's eyes widen across the room.

"Good to hear, daughter. Now tell me," his voice flows like honey, his words punched with poison, "What are you doing at the Grand Spangly Hotel with Dieson Pruitt?"

"Why did you let your daughter almost burn down in a mansion fire?" I snap back.

"Logistics, logistics," he only says, and I could imagine him waving his hand around dismissively, "If you two need somewhere to stay, I promise that this one won't burn. The other one needed renovation."

"Simons spoke to me," I tell him.

My father pauses momentarily. "As he does with all of his guests. Continue, my AK."

I frown. "AK?"

"I think of all my children as guns, dear AK. You all have qualities that align with each weapon I've chosen. Ali was more of a pistol. You an AK-47. And my precious Amina, of course, a bedazzled handgun. But tell me about what Fred said."

I try to ignore his curt tone, noting that he was somewhat intrigued. "He wants Dieson's club. And he wanted to know why we were here. I need a promise that you won't trade his club."

I don't look at my boyfriend as I say this.

"You can't be mad that Amina decided to make a move when you were still circling around her, dear daughter. She threw the punch, will you continue on the defense, or be bold for the offense, other daughter?" he ignores what I said.