The Price of a Smile

Derek’s face flushed a deep, mottled crimson.

""Wait. You're... Donovan Hayes?"" Derek stammered, the name tumbling out of him like a bad reflex.

The barista at the counter suddenly found the interior of the sink extremely interesting, while the customers pretended their phones required intense, unblinking concentration.

Donovan kept his hand on Maeve’s stomach, feeling the tiny, unmistakable kick of his child beneath his palm.

A muscle flickered along Donovan’s jawline, the only sign of the fury boiling beneath his calm exterior.

""You have a loud voice in a public place,"" Donovan said quietly, turning his head just enough to look Derek dead in the eye. ""And you have entirely too much to say about things you know nothing about.""

""I was just—we used to—"" Derek swallowed hard, his expensive poise cracking down the middle.

""You're done,"" Donovan interrupted, his voice dropping another register.

He didn't make a threat.

He didn't have to.

In Port Mercer, Donovan Hayes didn't need to raise his voice to end a career, empty an account, or ensure someone never worked within city limits again.

Derek’s chic brunette companion tugged frantically at his sleeve, her face pale.

""Derek, let's go. Right now,"" she whispered, her eyes darting nervously toward the two dark-coated men now standing just outside the glass doors.

Derek looked like he wanted to argue, but the cold, absolute finality in Donovan’s eyes drained the last of his bravado.