Chapter 9: So What If I Hit You?

Words : 2094 Updated : Oct 23rd, 2025

Diego Santee gave a slight nod. Dozens knelt before him, and he remained as unruffled as ever. "Get up." At his command, Arya Moore straightened from her bow, the motion sending a subtle ripple through her chest before she settled. "You, come with me. The rest of you may go." He turned and walked a short distance away from the crowd. Arya hurried after him. "Mr. Santee, did you want to speak with me?" "How much does the Easton Rose Society have in assets?" He got straight to the point. The Santee family was short on funds. If the Rose Society could front some cash for now, it would help. "Mr. Santee, our Easton chapter mainly works in entertainment." Arya flicked back her hair, her red lips parting. "We operate four upscale clubs and more than a dozen chain hotels. Our total assets are just over a hundred million dollars." That's a sizable operation for just one city. "Two things. First, investigate everything related to the Santee family. I want to know who's targeting us." Diego narrowed his eyes, his tone turning cold. "Second, raise ten million dollars for me." "Yes, I'll get people on it right away." She gave a slight bow without hesitation. "Good. Take me home first." He nodded and headed toward the Bentley motorcade. "Please get in, Mr. Santee!" Arya picked up her pace, opened the rear door, and set a hand on the doorframe. Diego studied her for a long moment. To be a Rose Society chapter head took both brains and nerve. Yet there wasn't a trace of arrogance in Arya. That was rare. They drove. Less than twenty minutes later, they returned to the Santee family compound. As soon as Diego stepped inside, he saw his grandfather pacing the courtyard, anxious and sighing over and over. "Why are you sighing?" Diego's brows rose. "Diego, thank heaven you're back." Nathan Santee's face was tight with worry. "Persephone went to a dinner with Franco Balam to raise money." "Franco Balam is the son of the Balam family in Easton. He's pursued her publicly several times. She went anyway. I'm afraid something will happen to her." Diego frowned. He had already said he would find the money. Persephone hadn't believed him. "Grandpa, don't panic. Franco's just chasing after my sister-in-law. She hasn't agreed to anything." Diego took Nathan by the arm, trying to calm him. "It's just dinner. She might not be checking her phone. Call her again and ask." Nathan pulled out his phone and dialed. Beep, beep… He got a busy signal. "It's been more than an hour. I'm worried. She's a young woman, and she doesn't have a bodyguard with her." Nathan grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. "No, we have to find her." Seeing the old man ready to march out, Diego stepped in immediately. "You're not running all over the city at your age. I'll go." Nathan didn't look convinced. "Can you handle this?" "It's just finding someone. Of course I can." Diego was already heading for the door. "Stay here and wait for me." When he stepped out, Arya Moore still hadn't left. She climbed out of her car as soon as she saw him, drawing breath to speak. "We'll talk in the car." Diego cut her off with a wave and slid into the back seat. "What happened, Mr. Santee?" Watching him in the rearview mirror, Arya noticed how dark his expression was and spoke carefully. Diego's voice was icy. "Mobilize all Rose Society resources. Find where Persephone Shadboult is. Immediately." Persephone Shadboult? Arya blinked, wanting to ask more. One glance at his face, and she held her tongue. She made the calls and gave the orders. A few minutes later, her phone chimed. "Mr. Santee, we have her location-she's dining at the Crescent Hotel." Diego nodded, a cold gleam flashing in his eyes. "Drive. Fast. Crescent Hotel." At his command, the motorcade swung around and headed straight for the Crescent Hotel. At the hotel entrance, Diego climbed out and went in. Arya gave a sharp signal to the men behind her. "Are you blind? Go clear a path for Mr. Santee!" Diego halted and looked back. "Everyone waits outside-no one comes in unless I give the word." He had only just been released from prison. The Santee family was in turmoil. His three older brothers had risen to the rank of War God-and had been murdered. He had to keep a low profile and move quietly. Their enemies were still faceless. If he showed his hand too soon, he'd only tip off whoever was lurking in the shadows. Inside private room 10 at the Crescent Hotel. Persephone Shadboult sat across from Franco Balam. Two empty decanters rested in front of her. Heat climbed through her, flushing her pretty face, and a restless warmth licked at her skin. "Mr. Balam, you can see my sincerity." Her voice carried an edge of urgency. "When will the money you promised arrive?" This money meant life or death for the Santee family's Junos Group. "Persephone, if you ask me for help, how could I refuse? Don't worry. The funds can hit your account anytime." Smiling, Franco let his eyes rake over her. "But at least finish dinner with me first." "Come on. Let's have another glass." He opened another bottle of red and filled her glass to the brim. Persephone ground her teeth, lifted the glass-she didn't have much choice-and looked him in the eye. "Mr. Balam, this one's for you. Thank you for helping me through this." "But my tolerance is limited. This is the last one." Bang! Before she finished, there was a loud bang and the door flew open. Diego stormed in, his face dark, his steps heavy. At a glance, he took in how Persephone was dressed: a red, low-cut dress, sheer black stockings. Her sky-high stilettos set off her long, shapely legs. At her neckline, pale skin gleamed, half-hidden and all the more arresting. A sour pang hit him. Persephone knew perfectly well why Franco had invited her at this hour, and she'd dressed like this. Before he could speak, Persephone's brows drew tight. "Diego Santee, what are you doing here?" Diego closed the distance, snatched the wineglass from her hand. "What are you doing?" He didn't answer. He brought the glass to his nose and drew in a slow breath. His face went stone-hard. Sure enough, the wine reeked of a slow-acting aphrodisiac. On its own it would do little. With alcohol, it would bloom by degrees. Most people would just think they were drunk. Diego's expression darkened instantly. He leveled a murderous glare at Franco Balam. The bastard was clearly up to no good. Franco recoiled from that look, a chill crawling up his spine. "I'm talking to you, Diego. Do you hear me?" Persephone's eyes flicked to him, a warning. This dinner decided whether she could secure the funds. If it blew up, everything would go to waste. Diego drew a deep breath and kept his voice even. He turned to her. "Sister-in-law, it's late. Grandpa asked me to bring you home." Persephone's frown deepened. She shot him a fierce look. "Can't you see I'm in the middle of business? Get out." "Whatever it is, wait until I'm done." Hearing her scold him, Franco found his footing and let out a laugh. "So that's who you are. The Santee family's spoiled wastrel. A few years gone, and you're out of prison already?" Diego shot him a cold look and said nothing. Franco swelled with bravado. "Kid, do you know where you are? You think you can just walk in here? Did prison teach you nothing about rules?" Smack. Diego's backhand cracked across Franco's face. Franco went down with his chair, both crashing to the floor. "Diego, you-you hit me?" Franco clutched his cheek, struggling up, eyes wild with shock and rage. "So what if I hit you?" Diego's face didn't move. His voice was cold enough to bite.

Chapter 9: So What If I Hit You?

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