And when the drinking, and the stewing, and the fucking volatility slipped the leash of my control, I went to the locked storage room, faced the two men who dared to drag Isla from my cabin, and became my father’s son.
I made lethal promises. Broke bones. Left blood where there should’ve been restraint.
I don’t make it back to the Cavallo Group office until the day has begun to rot into afternoon.
Michelo meets me in the hall, takes one look at my knuckles—red, swollen, raw—and must decide I’m not fit for civil conversation because he rolls his eyes, turns on his heel, and walks away.
Eliseo, on the other hand, stalks into my office, slams the glass door, and studies me like a competitor he wants to crush. “What the fuck happened?”
I push from my chair, move to the decanter in the corner of the room, and pour myself a drink. “I said I’d handle it and I did.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Enough to manage the situation.” I throw back a mouthful of whiskey and let the burn take hold.
“You’re being cagey,” he warns.
“Forgive me if I’m not in the mood to recap how I cleaned up the disaster you created.”
He takes the reprimand with a raise of his chin. “Why fire the entire crew?”
“I don’t recall needing your permission.” I return to my desk and reclaim my seat, swirling the remaining liquor in my glass.
“I’m trying to understand the motivation behind making twelve people redundant.”
“What you should be attempting to understand is my shrinking tolerance for the complications you’ve brought to our lives.” I meet his gaze, eyes hard, the resentment in me harder. “No thanks to you, the situation is under control.”
His nostrils flare. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because trust is something you rarely give, even when I’ve earned it.”
“Earned it?” he seethes.
I drown his judgment with another mouthful of liquor. “Don’t start.”
“Why not? You’re the reason I have trust issues.”
I clench my teeth. Lock my jaw. “No.Ourfatheris the reason. I’m only guilty of protecting you from him.”
“Youlied to me for years, not him.”
I glance away, shooting back the last of my whiskey. I won’t apologize for giving him a childhood free from the curse of our bloodline. He had sixteen good years before I shattered that illusion. Sixteen years where he didn’t have to fall asleep thinking about our mother’s slaughter. Or how easily our father dusted his hands of us when we needed him the most.
I may have given him trust issues, but I also gave him peace.
“You’re so quick to judge, Eli, yet you’re doing the same thing to Aurelia.”
He takes a threatening step forward. “Keeping the truth from her hasneverbeen my choice.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You choose it every damn day. You decide to keep her whole. To maintain the status quo, despite it being a lie. You choose to protect her ignorance instead of delivering grief.”
He glares at me, the tendons in his neck flickering.
“You keep your mouth shut because it’s the right choice, brother. You play along because the alternative is cruel.” From the corner of my eye I catch my assistant glancing at us, Jessica’s curiosity a liability, even behind soundproof glass. “We’re done here.”
“We’re nowhere near done. What did you tell Cross?”
“She made a statement.” I choose my words carefully. Speak them slowly. “She understands her father’s situation. She’s been handled.”