"Will you be having dessert too?" Lily asks. Her voice is tentative. Uncertain. Like she's not sure if she's allowed to ask.
"No," Luan says flatly from across the room. "He won't be staying long."
"Actually, I will be staying." Erion's tone loses the humor. Turns serious. "We have business to discuss. Important business."
Tension, immediate and dangerous, spikes in the room. Luan's hands tighten on the back of his chair. Knuckles going white.
"Fine," he says. The word comes out clipped.
Lily sets small plates in front of me and Luan's place. Warm ricotta drizzled with honey, golden and thick. Lemon zest scattered across the surface like flecks of sunlight. Cracked pistachios adding texture and color. The smell is incredible. Sweet and bright and rich all at once.
"I'll get one for you too," she says to Erion. Polite. Accommodating.
"Don't bother,dashuri," Erion says. Sweetheart. The Albanian endearment rolls off his tongue easily. "I don't want anything sweet right now. But I'll come find you later when the mood strikes." He pauses. Lets that implication hang in the air. Then adds, "I would kill for a good strong coffee though."
"We'll take coffee in the office," I say fast, before Erion can say anything else. Before Lily can respond. Before this situation can get any more uncomfortable.
Lily nods. Slips back into the kitchen without a word.
We move to the office. Luan navigates the familiar path without hesitation. His hand trails along the wall briefly, then drops. He sits behind his desk. Reclaims his territory. His space.
I take the chair across from him. Erion ignores the other available chair entirely and leans against the fireplace mantel instead. Arms crossed. Watching us both with those sharp, calculating eyes.
"What brought you here?" Luan asks. Direct. No preamble.
A soft knock at the door.
"Come in," Luan says.
The door opens. Lily enters carrying a wooden tray.
"Leave the coffee on the desk," Luan says. His voice cold and dismissive. "Don't interrupt again unless you're called for."
She sets the tray down on his desk carefully, with efficient and practiced movements.
But there's something in her posture. A stiffness in her shoulders. A tightness around her mouth. Like she doesn'tappreciate being spoken to that way but knows better than to say anything about it.
She leaves without a word. Closes the door quietly behind her.
Once we're alone, Erion speaks. "We have problems. Plural."
"Explain," Luan says in a controlled way.
"Your father's widow, Valentina, is making noise. She's been reaching out to other clans. Saying she has valuable information to trade. Inside knowledge about the Krasniqi organization. Trying to build alliances. Positioning herself as someone worth protecting."
"She doesn't know shit," Luan with certainty. "She was arm candy. Decoration. My father didn't tell her anything important. She's not a threat."
"I disagree," I say. "She could become dangerous. Not because of what she knows, but because of what people might believe she knows. Perception matters as much as reality. We should offer her a generous allowance. Enough to keep her comfortable and quiet. And make it very, very clear what happens if she talks."
"I agree," Erion says. "Especially since she's already reached out to your uncle Driton, in New York. Trying to turn him against you. Planting seeds of doubt about your fitness to lead."
I look at Luan. Watch his jaw tighten. A muscle jumping beneath the skin.
"Driton has been calling," I say quietly. "Multiple times. He's insisting on meeting. He's asking questions. Getting suspicious. We can't stall much longer without it looking worse."
Luan curses under his breath. "I can't meet him like this. Not face to face. He'll know immediately. He'll see it as weakness. And weak men don't lead clans. They get replaced. Removed. Eliminated."
"Then we don't give him a face-to-face meeting," Erion says. Straightforward. Pragmatic. "You almost fooled me the first time we met. Your uncle is in New York. You're in Chicago. There's distance. Use it. Convince him to do a video call. Tell him you can't leave the city right now. That you're cementing your leadership here. Managing the transition from your father's rule to yours. Handling internal issues. Whatever excuse works."
