“So you’re aware you’ll become Raffael’s wife, mistress, or slave if you did cut ties?” Bishop asks.
“They were rumors,” Raffael counters, voice dangerously low.
“And if he doesn’t want you,” Bishop continues, “then his brothers get their turn.”
Raffael clenches a fist. “None of uswill claim her.”
“I’d advise against that commitment.” Matthew runs a finger along the rim of his empty coffee mug. “If you don’t honor the agreement, the rights of the breach are passed down the family line. And not all your relatives will be as kind.”
Volatility casts across Raffael’s features. A mix of hatred and vengeance.
“As your oldest cousin, I’d be the next beneficiary. But—” Matthew offers a regretful smile “—my wife would disapprove. Which means Isla would fall into the hands of Salvatore. And given he’s always looking for new…assetssince taking over your father’s business, I’m sure he’d find a use for her.”
I don’t know who Salvatore is, or what thefamilybusinessconsists of, but the unspoken threat siphons the air from my lungs.
“Are you still not interested in claiming her?” Bishop taunts.
“As I’ve mentioned numerous fucking times, Isla has done nothing wrong.” Raffael’s fingers flex in silent warning. “What you’re both also aware of is how my father spent a lifetime keeping his violence from my door. But if you take this further, I promise I’ll become the man he never wanted me to be. I’ll prove to you I don’t need your experience to become an unwanted adversary.” He shoves to his feet. “Now get the fuck off my yacht.”
Chapter
Twenty-Four
RAFFAEL
I standat the aft railing, watching my father’s men board the speedboat, my fury refusing to ease even after the motor roars to life and Langston drives off in a swirl of churning water.
Thisis the catastrophe I’d feared.
Theirinvolvement.Theirintimidation. Bishop’s parting promise to further investigate.
I knew dissolving the debt wouldn’t be an option. I anticipated them pushing to honor my father’s agreement. But I hadn’t expected them to kick the consequences of her father’s failures down my family tree.
There’s no chance I’ll let that happen.
Nobody will touch Isla. Not my brothers. Not my cousins. And sure as hell not my father’s thugs.
As soon as Isla’s safely returned to New York, I’ll figure out how to handle Langston and Bishop. If necessary, I’ll follow them to their D.C. lair and return the favor of unwanted intrusion. I’ll make their loved ones fear my name. I’ll tear them limb from?—
Fuck.
I shove a hand through my hair.
I’mnotmy father.
I’ve spent a lifetime trying to dilute the violence his genetics placed in my blood.
When Eliseo was bullied as a child, I stood guard for a month instead of succumbing to the desire to break the limbs of those who taunted him. When Miko fell in with the wrong crowd during his teens, I made financial threats, not ones that felt more natural and involved sharp objects. And when we found out there was a list of men still living in New York who had ties to our mother’s murder, I used every professional trick I’d learned to start stripping them of their assets, destroying their legacies, and ruining their lives from the inside out, instead of slitting their throats like I’d dreamed of since I was little.
I’ve always chosen the harder, cleaner path, denying the barbaric instincts that feel as innate as breathing. I’ve stifled those hereditary urges all my fucking life. I don’t get distracted by revenge. I don’t have a thirst for blood.
So why do both roar in my veins with the force of a building storm?
Thisis why I kept my distance from Isla.
Thisis why I never should’ve indulged in the possibility of a future together.
She shifts in my periphery, the timid movement enough to announce her frailty.