Chapter 185
Chapter 185:
“I left the ring in the city. For safety,” Eliza said, her voice faltering. “But he is Dallas Koch p>
Buck slammed his hand on the desk hard enough to make the lamp rattle. “Dallas Koch? The billionaire? Come now, Eliza. If you’re going to lie, at least make it convincing. If you were married to a Koch, you wouldn’t be here in a hired car wearing last season’s boots p>
“It’s the truth!” Eliza said, reaching for her phone. “I can call him right now p>
“No phones.” Buck moved with surprising speed for a man of his size. He snatched the device from her hand before she could unlock it. “Bad manners.” He tossed it onto a high shelf behind his desk, well beyond her reach.
“Mr. Luna is on his way,” Margo said, checking her watch, her expression hardening. “He likes privacy. And he specifically asked to see the artistic assets p>
“I am not an asset,” Eliza said sharply.
“You are today.” Buck gripped her upper arm. His hand was clammy and tight. “You’re going to the studio. That’s where the meeting is p>
“Why the studio?” Eliza planted her feet against the threadbare carpet.
“Because it’s secluded,” Margo said, pushing the French doors open. “And because sound doesn’t carry from there to the road. We wouldn’t want the neighbors to misinterpret anything p>
The implication turned Eliza’s blood cold. She twisted against Buck’s grip.
𝖳𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘴𝖺𝗻𝗱𝗌 𝗈𝗳 𝗋еa𝖽𝖾𝗿ѕ 𝗈𝗇
“Let go of me! You’re selling me to a gangster to cover your gambling debts!” she screamed.
Buck slapped her.
It wasn’t a hard blow, but it was shocking enough to stun her into silence.
“It’s business,” he said quietly. “And you will behave p>
He didn’t give her time to recover. He dragged her through the French doors and marched her across the dark lawn without a word, without stopping, until the stone building at the cliff’s edge loomed before them.
The art studio looked like a tomb in the twilight. Its windows were boarded from the inside — a precaution taken years ago to protect the canvases, now repurposed for something far darker.
Buck drew a heavy iron key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and shoved it open.
“Get in,” he said.
“Uncle Buck, please,” Eliza said, bracing herself against the doorframe. “Don’t do this. Mom wouldn’t want this p>
Buck flinched at the mention of his sister. For a moment, something like shame flickered in his watery eyes. Then greed washed it away.
“Your mother is dead,” he said roughly, and pushed Eliza inside with a hard shove.
She stumbled into the darkness, tripping over a drop cloth, and caught herself against an old easel. Dust billowed up around her.
“Wait here,” Buck said from the doorway, his silhouette blocking out the last of the grey light. “Dante will be here in five minutes. Be pleasant. If you are, maybe he’ll let you keep the house p>
“Buck!” Eliza lunged toward the door.
He slammed it shut in her face.
The lock turned. A heavy, final sound. Click-thunk.
“No!” She pounded the wood with both fists. “Let me out! You can’t do this p>