Illya
“Why’d you say that Christmas was the best option when you knew it wasn’t?” Pointing an accusatory finger at Carlyle, I scowled darkly when he shrugged carelessly. “You know, trust goes both ways. Just because you’re my boss or whatever doesn’t give you the right to manipulate me to fuck with your family.”
“The fact that you figured it out and Oran didn’t is telling.” We were outside, a cigarette muffling Carlyle’s words, and he sparked his lighter with disdain dragging down the corners of his mouth. “He thinks he’s so fucking smart, but all he does is complain. I swear, he probably doesn’t even need those glasses.”
“Carlyle.” Holding up a hand to silence me, he took a deep drag of his smoke, and I exhaled hotly through my nose. Annoyance roiled through me, and he blew smoke above my head before leaning against the wall to cross his ankles.
“Do you think my father doesn’t know who you are?” The question made me pause, and his frown deepened. “Nothing happens without him knowing. I may run things here in the States, but he runseverything. He has Mateo fooled, but Oran and I both know better. Why do you think Oran’s under our father’s wing? He’s trying to wrest control from me. I told you Christmas was better because the only thing that doesn’t fool my father is a genuine reaction. There’s no point in trying to lie to him.”
“So . . . so . . . what? This is some internal power play? Why am I always getting sucked into shit that has nothing to do with me?” Frustration thickened my tone, and I ran my hand through my hair roughly as Carlyle’s cheek twitched. “Translator, fine. Drugging someone, I can probably do that. But this isdangerous, Carlyle, and I—”
“Illya . . . ” Extending his arm to offer me his smoke like some sort of fucked-up olive branch, Carlyle’s eyes narrowed on me until I took it. Anxiety gnawed deep in my gut, and I took a huge drag in an attempt to snuff it out. “Relax. You’re not some key part. Don’t mistake your involvement in my scheme to outwit my brother with taking action. You did exactly what I needed you to do.”
“Make your brother look like a dickhead so you could swoop in and save the situation.” Smoke bubbled from my nose and mouth as understanding pushed it from my lungs, and Carlyle nodded firmly.
“There’s one thing I will never let happen, Illya, and that’s giving control of something so powerful to someone like Oran. I know you noticed, he’s got no sense of humility, and everyone is beneath him. Those that can’t do, judge.” I nodded dumbly, and Carlyle reached to caress my cheek with a warmth in his eyes before sneaking the cigarette from my mouth. “I’ve been playing this game a long time, and you’re right, trust isn’t a one-way street. It has to be built, and building it means taking risks. In this case, it was small.”
“It was really obvious. Are you sure he didn’t notice you set it all up?”
“I’m sure he did, but that’s the beauty of it. It was so obvious, so why didn’t Oran notice and back down?” My eyes widened in realization, and Carlyle smirked a little. “It wasn’t about how sneaky I was. It was about how obliviously stupid Oran can be. If he could, he’d shoot anyone that did anything he didn’t like, and that list is very long. Not to mention, if Oran did know I was setting him up, he deliberately chose to push himself into a corner, which is arguably worse. He’d save his self-dignity, make everyone around him an enemy, rather than accept the facts.”
“I’m always so appreciative that you were born first.” Stepping out from behind the door, George smiled as I tensed, but Carlyle didn’t seem at all surprised. And if he was, he hid it well.This fucking family . . . ugh!George scanned me from top to bottom, and I stood up a little straighter. “Aren’t you just the cutest thing? Just like my daughter, God bless her soul.”
My brows rose in surprise. That was the first thing Carlyle said to me, too.
“Uh . . . thanks. I wish I could’ve met her.” He waved a long, gnarled hand that didn’t show any signs of arthritis at my comment, stepping out into the shadows cast from the tall buildings.
“No, she was pretty but truly stupid.” My jaw almost unhinged at that, and Carlyle chuckled fondly as his dad’s smile widened. “From what my son has shared with me, you’re not the same. My condolences about your family. I wanted to reach out, but you disappeared.”
“You knew my parents?” George nodded, and my eyes flew to Carlyle as his expression turned grave and stony. “You knew he knew me?”
“Your mother was the only person to ever connect me to anything.” Nerves dried my tongue even as it sneaked to swipe my lips, and I crossed my arms over my chest. As if sensing where my mind was going, George shook his head, a sad, almost plastic expression fixed on his face. “I was upset to hear she’d passed. I offered her a job if being a policewoman ever fell through. She declined, of course. I hate wasting talent like that.”
“I . . . I appreciate it.” Awkwardness surged through me because Ibelievedhim— even though I knew better. He might be reciting from a book, but that last bit . . . Shaking my head, I turned to Carlyle, and he exhaled smoke out of his nose under furrowed brows. “What now?”
“Now, I wait to see what Oran will do. The problem with seeing everyone as below you is that you consider them to be inconsequential. I’m sure he’ll try something.” I nearly choked on my own spit, and my face grew hot while Carlyle sucked on the butt of his cigarette leisurely. “I don’t allow violence in my home. You’re perfectly safe, Illya.”
“The fact that I have to be reassured about my safety, I swear to God, Carlyle, I want itin writingthat if anything happens to me, I get to stab you in the arm or something.” Pushing himself off the wall, Carlyle loomed over me, but I stood my ground. I didn’t even have to crane my neck to glare at him in the eye. Taking the cigarette from between his lips, he held it out to me again, and my eyes narrowed before I reached to take it.
“Fine. If anything happens to you, you can stab me in the arm. Right here.” Tapping his bicep over his shirt, all seriousness glittered in his eyes, and Carlyle ran his hand roughly through his hair before stepping back. “Regardless, this is a waiting game now. Even if Oran manages to surprise me, we need to set up your interview, and Mateo is a problem for me. I have too much going on to babysit him any longer.”
“He’s my boy, Carlyle. I’ll take care of him.” For a second, George’s mask disappeared, and he developed the most monotone, flat expression imaginable. “It’s about time he grew up and took responsibility for his actions. I don’t think he’s quite got the message yet.”
Scary . . . he really is a sociopath.
“We’ll talk about that later. I’ve already sent out the e-mail. We’re just waiting for confirmation. The interview will happen on Saturday. That’s more than enough time to set up the live feed and make arrangements. Until then, Illya, I want you to keep going through my files and find out what you can. The rest are being sent over as we speak. I can keep them digital if you find that easier.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Like I said, I doubt there’s much there since you don’t use interpreters as much as your father and brother.” Nodding to myself, my mind whirred in that direction as memories of all those words flashed in my mind’s eye. “Do these guys know I have all the transcripts?”
“Probably, why?”
“What if they ask about it?” Amusement drenched Carlyle’s features, and even George laughed at me as embarrassment sloshed against my ribs. “What? If they know I figured out what they’re doing, I . . . ”
“Illya . . . ” Plopping his warm palm on my crown, Carlyle smiled a genuine smile, and heat suffused my cheeks as I held my breath. “You really are the cutest. You’re not being interviewed. When those five get here, I’m going to torture and execute them on a live stream. You probably won’t even know they’re here.”
“Ooh.”Carlyle’s scarier than his dad, it’s official.
Carlyle truly didn’t care about anyone. He wasn’t mentally ill, he just had no regard for human life unless it suited him somehow.Jesus Christ.
