Illya
Inibbled at the edges of my plate, too busy watching the table out of my peripheral vision. The tension was so subtle, but I could cut it with a dull knife. I could taste the lies every time I opened my mouth, and— not for the first time— I wondered what the Hell I’d gotten forced into.
These men were brothers, but they fuckingdespisedeach other . . . or they were really good actors. Either way, it was almost impossible to breathe under all the testosterone in the air.
“So, what are we doing about this issue, Carlyle?” Glancing up from the edge of the table for the first time in almost half an hour, I tried not to stare too hard at Oran. He was clearly the kind of guy that liked to ride a motorcycle but only drinks expensive champagne off a pair of natural tits. He leaned back gracefully, propping his lean arm behind his head, and if I looked close enough, I could see his father in his face. “Obviously, the suspicion is enough. Something clearly happened to make these idiots think they could get away with this.”
“If they’re idiots for trying, what are we for being fooled for so long?” The sage question earned a gruff snort, and Carlyle set his silverware down with a softtinkas his father sighed. “It’s a smart plan, Oran, and you shouldn’t underestimate that just because it makes you look bad. Personally attacking someone because they got the better of you is distasteful.”
“I won’t know how long it’s been going on until I have your files, but it’s safe to say that it’s been a while. I only just noticed the discrepancies a few months ago, which is telling in itself. It doesn’t really matter why, either. Now that we know without a doubt, the question is, ‘how are we going to deal with it?’.” Carlyle spoke with authority, and he clasped his hands on the table to nod to himself. “Obviously, I’m going to kill them. The trick here is to avoid them doing it somehow while not raising suspicion. We can’t just drop them all, but we clearly can’t keep them involved in our business.”
“Obviously.” Jutting his chin out, Oran glared at his brother like Carlyle was an idiot himself. Nothing he said hadn’t already crossed all minds in the room. Frowning slightly under furrowed brows, I stabbed a piece of steamed broccoli in the charged silence. “Get to the point, Carlyle.”
“We’re not set to require all of them in one place until Christmas. This is the obvious route to go, but I’ve got a better idea.” This was the first time I’ve heard of this ‘better idea,’ and Carlyle glanced warily at me. “I understand that we’re not patient men. I want to get them together to ‘interview’ a new translator for me.”
The fine hairs on my neck and back stood up as Carlyle put me on the spot, and I pursed my lips thinly against my frown. His look was barely a second, but all attention was suddenly on me anyway. Setting down my fork, I straightened my shoulders and made a point to chew him out later.
“Her?” A sudden sense of caution swept through in a powerful wave, and I clenched my jaw hard at the disgust in Oran’s tone. “Why would you trus— ”
“Shut up, Oran.” Carlyle was the boss here, and Oran clamped his mouth shut as ordered even though he didn’t look happy about it. “Drop the almighty God act. Just because you’re pissed, you’re not the smartest person on Earth, and it doesn’t give you the right to be a dick. I brought her on not because I trust her, but because I believe she can get the job done. She’s a means to an end. When this is over, I’ll decide how much I trust her.”
“It’s surprising what you can find in the gutter, isn’t it?” Speaking up from directly across from me, George stared with a gaze that reminded me of dead fish eyes. Suppressing the shiver that burrowed between my shoulder blades, I hid my hands under the table, but I knew he’d seen the tremor that raked them. “It’s definitely a much speedier and stable plan than waiting for Christmas. With all those people around, it’d be a difficult thing to execute.”
“I don’t understand why you insisted we come to this shit-stain when you have it all figured out, Carly.” I held my breath as Carlyle became physically agitated at his brother’s slight, but I couldn’t take my eyes off George’s. Something in there seemed almost like familiarity as if he knew me, and I didn’t look away until he did when Carlyle stood up. Rounding the head of the table, he strode, confident and in charge, to Oran, and I jumped with a squeak of shock when he unceremoniously shoved his brother right out of his chair.
Carlyle stepped his heel on Oran’s cheek, pinning him down, and Oran didn’t try to fight it. Watching it was like watching animals scuffle for dominance, and Carlyle only lifted his Italian leather shoe when Oran went limp on the floor.
“Don’t insult me in my own home. I won’t warn you again, and you know what happens when I get pissed off.” Flapping his jacket to make his point, Carlyle walked around the rectangular table to stand behind my chair. My lungs burned with stale air, but I didn’t dare inhale or even blink as he set his hands on the back rung. “I insisted you both come here because this was a conversation we needed to have in person. Whether or not you approve, I’m doing what I think is best. I won’t let five people call into question everything we’ve done. This will get out— that’s certain. What we can’t let happen is avoiding the ripple effects.”
“Very well said, Carlyle. We indeed need to set an example. The Syndicate will be gripped in upheaval if we don’t deal with this the right way.”The Syndicate?No one answered my silent question, and Oran sat up to adjust his glasses with his head hung low out of the corner of my eye. “Our tendrils spread far. There’s no telling what the bugs at the bottom would try if they were confident enough.”
George’s words rang through the dining room, and Carlyle nodded above my head before leaving my chair to take up his own. Finally, I managed a shallow breath, and he cleared his throat roughly before speaking up.
“So, although I have this planned, my question is this. I want to know what you think is the best way to deal with them? From what I’ve been able to gather just on my end, there’s about seven million in unaccounted money that’s been stolen. I want to know what you think is worth all that.”
“Shouldn’t we leave that to the experts? My only suggestion is that whatever we do, we live-stream it.” Goosebumps washed my arms at that flippant consideration, and Carlyle nodded firmly at his dad. “Of course, you already know that, Carlyle.”
“I do. Since this affects all of us, I wanted your opinions anyway.” The notion that Carlyle was planning something incredible that he didn’t want anyone to know about hit me right in the gut. This was all a distraction from . . . from something. Frowning under brows furrowed in confusion, I turned my stare back to the edge of the table and fiddled with the cloth that lapped over to brush my lap.
“What about you, Mateo? You’ve been awfully quiet. What do you think about this whole ordeal?” The moment slid by on pins and needles as Mateo sunk into his seat and grumbled nonsensically, and I couldn’t help the disgust that coated my tongue. “Come now, surely you have something to say on the matter?”
“I don’t, no.” He sounded so much gruffer than those times I’d heard him speak, and I actually felt a little bad for Mateo. He’d been through a lot— whether it was his own making or not— and his dad smiled sympathetically at him. “I don’t really care about it at all.”
“Good of you to have the option.” Oran’s snark was back in full force, and Mateo only slipped deeper down into his seat. “Regardless, your opinion doesn’t matter, anyway.”
Talk about family drama . . . man . . .
