“What does that mean…” he grumbles, “for Dascha?”
“Well, he’ll be expecting to see him, I’m sure,” I prattle, feigning boredom. “I’m not exactly sure what the hell he wants. Nonetheless, he’s on his way. So I need you to stay out of sight.”
He scoffs, turning away from me to pace. “Not going to happen.”
I pull a fake frown at his back. “Why not?”
When he spins back, he’s glaring. “Cut the shit, Ivory. Just tell me what you want.”
“Maybe you should go find your son’s fiancé.” I shrug. “He’ll probably want to know that Dascha is in danger.”
He stares at me for a beat. That indiscernibly blank look that’s virtually impossible to read.Must be a Russian thing…“Is he? In danger…”
Pushing off the wall, I step over to him. “He killed Russo’s niece. He’ll always be in danger as long as he’s alive…”
I blink; a slow bat of my lashes at his face. He continues to stare, the knowledge we both share about that statement causing him to bristle before me.
Waltzing closer, I stop when we’re inches apart, fussing with the lapels of his coat. “Don’t worry, Papa. I’m sure Dascha just needs some time. He’ll forgive you for leaving, eventually.”
“Shut up,” he growls, yanking away from me. “He can hate me for the rest of his life if he wants to. I deserve it…”
I can’t help how I’m gaping at him for seconds. It’s hard to fathom…Fatherhood. Being a parent.I can’t imagine…
My mind skips back a few decades. To my own father…
And the father figures who came after him.
“Don’t ever be fooled by snakes in the grass, Manuelito. Be the serpent, if you need to… But never ever let them catch you unprepared. And never let them catch you…”
The distinct sound of a helicopter approaching brings a twist to my lips. “Ah, right on time. Don fucking Corleone.”
Alexander huffs and shakes his head, eyes springing to the ceiling. The chopper sounds like it’s right over us.
Footsteps charge through the mansion, everyone getting into position. It’s good…
It means they’ll all be occupied for a bit.
Patting Alexander on the back, I murmur, “I trust you’ll do what’s best for all of us.”
I leave the room with that feeling in my gut, like dropping a ticking time bomb then skipping gleefully away. Checking my watch, I assume that based on the sounds of the chopper cutting out, Russo will be down any minute. Technically, that means I need to get back to the atrium. Make sure Dascha and Byron are still there.
But then I think keeping Russo waiting a little while longer will be much more satisfying, long-term.Plus… there’s that itch.
Stalking toward the veranda, I barely make it two steps before Yari is grabbing my arm. Whipping around, I shoot him an impatient scowl.
“Jefe, don’t you think this has gone on long enough?”
“Dios fucking mio, not this again,” I grunt, rubbing my eyes.
“Hector and Christian are on standby,” he argues pointedly. “They’ve got their fingers on the damn trigger, and you’re hesitating.” My muscles bunch, eyes hardening. “We both know why…”
Towering over him, I really despise how he doesn’t cower as much as he used to. “You are advocating pretty hard for them, querido. Maybe you’d be happier over there… Wading through rubble, eating twigs and wearing the same panties for weeks on end.”
My tone has some serious bite to it, but all I get from him is a visible swallow.
Disobedient little shit.
“I’m loyal to you, Jefe,” he murmurs. “Not the cartel, not the business… Not this fucking island.You.” Through no fault of my own, those words settle in my balls. “I’ve never cared about your motivations, you know that. But I know you… You’re waiting for him to come crawling back even though you know damn well it’s never going to happen. The only way to end this is to give him what he wants…”
