71- The Mistress of Gotham

Anthony’s POV

I knew the moment the door closed with a soft clap behind me that I wasn't alone.

The sharp tang of Carla’s jasmine scent hung in the air like poison and I tried not to hack out the phlegm building in the back of my throat.

“You shouldn't be here,” I growled in a low brooding voice, ignoring the woman who sat stiffly in the shadowed space of my study to snag a wine bottle instead.

It was looking more and more like one of those nights where I would lose myself in bloody alcohol.

I could tell that the woman was surprised at my indifference, a mask I kept tightly woven around my body, fighting the irritation that built steadily inside me.

“That's the first thing you're going to say to me? What did I ever do to you to deserve this Anthony?” Carla cried, her voice hoarse from disuse, and I watched her grip the leather edges of my table until her knuckles turned white.

“Get out. Now. Before I do something you would dislike very much.” I barked back, taking a swig of the sweet