I open the door to find him standing in the hallway with a bag of takeout food and his usual easy smile. Relief floods through me at seeing a friendly face after months of isolation.
“Jesus Christ, cousin,” he says, stepping into the room. “You look like hell.”
“Feel like it too. But I’m alive. Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since I got out of the hospital.”
“Hospital? Jesus, Dante, I thought you were dead. The crash, the investigation?—”
“Coma for two months. Burns, head trauma, broken everything. Took another month to remember my name, another two to get mobile again.” I touch the scars on my face absently. “Been trying to call you for weeks, but your phone’s been dead.”
“I had to disappear recently. The Russians have been getting aggressive about wanting the operations restored, and I needed to lie low until I could figure out next steps,” Marco says, his eyes not quite meeting mine.
“I visited the estate a few times. Wanted to see what life was like without me.” I clench my jaw. “Was disappointed with what I saw. Kasimira is pregnant.”
“Yeah, that happened.” Marco moves past me, setting the items on the table. “You underestimated your father’s charm.”
“That’s no reason for him to fuck my fiancée!”
“Ex-fiancée. You two were broken up the moment she ran away.”
“Whose side are you on now? Hers? Who knows, maybe you also fucked her?”
Marco rolls his eyes. “C’mon, man. You of all people know what I like. Your precious princess was never my type.” He takes a bite and chews thoughtfully. “Besides, I’m more concerned about actual problems. Like the Russians breathing down our necks.”
“Tell me about it?”
“The ones whose money pipeline you disrupted when you decided to take that little plane ride.” Marco’s tone is casual, almost bored. “Boris Petrov’s been asking questions about where their fifty million went.”
“The operations are still running?—”
“No, they’re not. Your ex-fiancée might have the paperwork, but she doesn’t know what any of it means. The accounts are frozen, the shipments are stalled, and the Russians are pissed.”
“Then we fix it.”
“With what? She’s locked up tight in Daddy’s mansion, playing house and growing his kid. You think she’s gonna drop everything to help us restart illegal operations?”
I stare at him, processing the casual way he talks about Kasimira, about our situation, like it’s all just business problems to be solved.
“You don’t care that she’s with him.”
“Your personal drama doesn’t make me money.” Marco leans back in his chair. “Look, cousin, I get that you’re upset about the whole thing. But we’ve got bigger problems than your wounded ego. She moved on. It happens. What shouldn’t happen is the Russians deciding we’re unreliable partners and putting bullets in our heads.”
Marco’s never talked to me like this before, or dismissed my relationship with Kasimira so casually.
I stand up, anger building in my chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m being realistic about our situation instead of obsessing over some girl who clearly doesn’t want you anymore. Remember how I told you that making her marry me would have been the perfect idea? But no, you wanted revenge on your father for God knows what. Look—you may have just given him the greatest joy in his life.”
“Enough, man! You think I don’t already know this?”
“I do. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t talk about it. I could have managed her properly, kept the operations running smoothly. Instead, you chose sentiment over strategy. At least then I could guarantee she wouldn’t be pregnant with someone else’s kid. I may not be interested in women, but I know how to manage business assets.”
I can’t stand the casual way he discusses my woman, my will, my death—like he’s been thinking about it for a long time.
“You son of a bitch.”
“I’m being practical, man. Your father’s got emotions involved now. Makes him unpredictable. I would have kept things professional.”
I reach for my gun, but Marco is faster, his weapon already in his hand and pointed at my chest.
