It was time to choose something else. Some way to keep my pretty boy safe and at my feet while destroying the Azzaro business.
Chapter 28
Thedoorclickedshutbehind my father, the sound like a death knell. He left a trail of tension thicker than the expensive cigar smoke he always seemed to carry with him. I pushed a stray lock of hair from my face, the gesture feeling more frantic than usual. Over the years, he had threatened my life, but this time . . . I could see he meant it. Things had been unraveling around here, and I didn’t know how to stop it.
The FBI agent, the missing product, the mysterious shipment from Colombia . . . they all weighed heavily on me. My father had placed all those problems on my shoulders, whether I’d known about them or not. Today was my final warning.
“I can’t have my heir failing over and over again. You will reign as one who has kept his word and not lost shipments or let the government get the better of us. One more fucking failure, Gavriel Azzaro, and I will personally put a bullet through your skull.”
Goddess. I need to see my Elin.
Your Elin?
Mine. I knew I was irrevocably in love with her, and while there was a part of me that wanted to push her away, I couldn’t.
“Are we done?”
He waved me off with a flick of his hand. Refusing to overthink my need for her in this moment, I stood and drove on autopilot to the club. Traffic was light at this time of day, so it wasn’t long before the elevator doors opened to the office level. I knocked quickly before pushing the cracked door open. Elin was standing next to her handbag hanging on the wall, where she dropped something into it before she looked at me. Instantly, I knew something was off.
Her usual snark was muted, replaced by a stillness that felt heavier than any Don Azzaro-induced drama.
“Elin?” My own voice surprised me, hoarse, uncertain, scraping its way across the room. “What’s wrong?”
She straightened, her shoulders up, face already set in the stiff lines of denial—yet her hand lingered in the bag. “Nothing.” The air was full of things not said, and the room suddenly felt too narrow for the both of us.
I stepped closer, watching as she turned and too quickly went back to her desk. “Something’s different,” I pressed, softer this time. There was a dull echo in the words, as if I’d spoken them to my own reflection. She’d always met me head-on in the past, eager to trade barbs, to challenge the way I saw the world. Now, she seemed to have walled herself off.
The silence carried, and I heard the tick of the clock hanging just over the doorway of her office. She did not look up, but after a long moment of silence, she did, her expression the careful, practiced indifference of someone who’d spent years mastering the art of emotional camouflage.
“You’re imagining things,” she said, her tone dismissive but shaded with a tremor that gave her away.
I wanted to believe her, to accept the diversion she offered, but she’d forgotten who I was. I wasn’t just some random guy she dommed. I was the heir to the Azzaro family and had been well versed in reading people and situations. The tension in her arms and the deliberate steadiness of her breathing told another story. She was disturbed, shaken, maybe by something I’d done. I braced for a blow, a fresh revelation, but she only sat back at her desk.
“Was it my father?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper, the taste of smoke and fear still thick on my tongue. “Did he—”
“No,” she interrupted too sharply. “It’s not that. He hasn’t . . . He’s not . . . It’s not him.” Her eyes flicked to mine, and for a fleeting second, the mask slipped—anguish, raw, and undisguised—before she yanked it back into place.
“Then what?” I asked and hated how desperate I sounded.
More silence. Then, as if she’d rehearsed it, she managed a tight smile, her gaze skittering away from me. “You look like you wrestled a vulture and lost, Gavriel.” Her words, though light, carried an undercurrent of concern, while she not so subtly changed the subject.
“Close,” I admitted, slumping into the chair in front of her desk. I’d let her have this one for now. “Just left a meeting with my father.” She nodded, waiting for me to finish. “He’s not exactly thrilled or quiet about it. Shit is going sideways in the family business.”
Her head tipped to the side slightly as she read between the lines. “And that’s why the Owl’s Talon looks like he’s aged ten years in an hour?”
Chuckling, I met her gaze. “Maybe twenty.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
Not unless you know how to get the FBI off my ass and foresee the future on any shipments that I fuck up that I didn’t even know existed.
“Nah.”
We sat quietly for a long moment before she stood, circled the desk, and as she lifted my chin, she met my gaze. “What does my pretty boy need from his Goddess?”
How was she able to shove aside her concerns to focus on me? Her ability to navigate the whirlpool of emotions was incredible. She didn’t speak, but I could see the wheels turning in her head. Yes, she was waiting for my reply, but she was also giving thoughtful consideration to what I needed. To see if she could find a way to help me relax. It was strange to see someone put their focus so wholly on me, despite their own turmoil.
As I held her gaze, there was only one thought going through my head. I felt a bit like a child but asked, “Can I just hold you?”
