Orson’s face twisted, his expression turning downright ugly.
“Aren’t you afraid word will get out? People will say you’re heartless, kicking someone when they’re down.”
Alexander’s voice was cold and steady: “Let them talk. If you can still show your face in Northridge after this, I’ll eat my hat.”
There was only one way to deal with a thug like him—force. Any more words would just be a waste of breath.
Leanne and Orson, still bickering, were hauled away by the men in black suits.
The room quickly fell silent again.
Alexander’s methods were ruthless and efficient—no wasted effort, no unnecessary talk.
What surprised Danielle was that he hadn’t come alone; he’d brought backup, waiting downstairs. Did that mean there was always some hidden danger lurking around him?
Alexander turned to Danielle. “It’s pointless to reason with people who have no shame. Don’t bother.”
He was blunt as ever.
His voice dropped. “I’m staying here tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
He clearly had no intention of leaving.
Danielle frowned.
Just because he’d dealt with her problem didn’t mean he could crash at her place. Their relationship wasn’t nearly that close.
“You’re not welcome here.”
Alexander sat down, unfazed. “You’re free to call the police.”
Danielle’s frown deepened.
“Alexander, are you taking something?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Last time, Miss Rebecca said you should be on medication. Are you sick?”
Alexander glanced up, a slight smirk on his lips. “Didn’t care last time, but now you’re suddenly curious? What’s that supposed to mean?”
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