“I’m coming back to you,” I assure her, leaving the rest unsaid.
I can’t promise her that tonight will end without bloodshed, so I won’t. But for now, she seems to accept what she knows she can’t change.
“Be sure that you do,” she whispers.
I lean in and kiss her before I drag myself away. “Sleep,dolcezza. It will all be over soon.”
After everyone isin position and waiting for our signal, I stop at the gates to the Stavros compound and inform the guards I require a private word with Ares.
They eye Rafe and Romeo on either side of me like they’re imagining shooting all three of us just for the hell of it. In anyother scenario, I might take it personally, but if the roles were reversed, my guards would react the same to the sight of a Stavros on my property. It’s ingrained in us—this decades-old feud. And though I have serious doubts there will ever come a generation of each family that doesn’t despise each other, my goal today is to make this a peaceful amendment to the treaty. Because even if we hate each other, Ares and I both know war doesn’t benefit anyone. And although his father may still be alive, it’s widely known that Ares has been calling the shots for several years as Leonidas’s health declines.
I have no desire to start a bloody war if it can be avoided, but I also have serious doubts that Ares is capable of anything other than being a prick.
After some chatter over the radio, the gate buzzes open, and the head guard points at me.
“Only you.”
I glance at Rafe and Romeo and nod. We already accounted for this. They’ll wait out here at the guard stand, but I have a direct line of communication with them through the camera embedded into my lapel pin. If anything goes sideways, they’ll know.
I follow the guard into the Stavros estate and directly to the den. Unsurprisingly, Ares sits behind his desk like a tyrant who thinks he rules the whole goddamned planet.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise?” He glances up at me. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your royal company, King Angelo?”
I take a seat across from him without being asked. “I’m here to renegotiate the treaty.”
He opens the decanter of whiskey on his desk and pours himself a glass, eyeing me over the rim as he takes a drink. “Let me guess. This is about your wife’s little problem with her womb.”
“Speak about her again, and I’ll gut you like a fish right here. I don’t give a fuck how many guards you have waiting outside.”
“Relax.” He smirks. “Everyone knows of your reputation,Il Diavolo. I have no desire to join the list of poor souls who so much as looked at your woman the wrong way.”
“Good. Then we can get back to business.”
“Yes, well.” Ares shrugs. “I fail to see how this is my problem.”
“You’re bound to the same terms,” I remind him. “Surely, you can see how fucking pointless they are.”
“Perhaps,” he muses. “But I quite like the idea of a smaller version of me running around the island. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll have a bunch of the little gremlins. I’m thinking about a baker’s dozen. An army in my own likeness?—”
“Cut the bullshit, and name your price.”
“As you already know, I have more money than I’ll ever need. A check does little to motivate me these days.”
He’s baiting me to see how desperate I am and what I’m willing to offer. I let him draw it out, because in my gut, I already know where he’s going with this. When he swirls the whiskey in his glass and a smile curves across his face, he proves me right.
“I suppose…there is one thing you could offer me.”
“That’s off the table.”
He arches a brow at me. “You haven’t even heard what it is I want. This isn’t much of a negotiation?—”
“Mariella isn’t for sale.”
“I wasn’t looking to make a purchase,” he answers dryly.
“Then what?”
He drains the whiskey in his glass and smiles.
