I sit, accepting the glass of wine the server pours — the one I won’t end up touching. Never accept an open bottle from an enemy; it’s a top ten rule. I glance at the ensemble gathered behind him, taking account of each man.
I’d left Omero and Raffaello at the mansion to watch over Chloe and Emmanuel and brought three other men with me to this meeting. Tao, on the other hand, is flanked by five men, all leaning against the wall behind him, making every attempt to look casual, and one woman, sitting beside him.
She’s beautiful in a classical way— delicate features, porcelain skin, dark hair pulled back into an elegant knot with a jeweled hairpin, and wearing a traditional qipao in deep blue silk. Her resemblance to Delan is evident in the dark tone of her eyes and the wide shape of her cheekbones.
She must be the eldest daughter, Shufen.
“I appreciate your willingness to meet and discuss this arrangement in further detail,” Delan continues, drawing my attention back to him. “I know tensions between our families have been… strained in the past.”
Strained.That’s one way to think of it I suppose. It’s been nothing short of an unofficial war for the last six years: trade route disputes, constant vying for territory, and the occasionalmisunderstandingthat would lead to a death or two.
“Business is business.” I keep my tone neutral while signaling the waiter to bring a fresh glass of water. “If there’s a mutually beneficial arrangement to be made between the two of us, I’m willing to consider it. What’s good for my business is good for me.”
“Good.” He leans forward slightly, his beady eyes pinned on me. “Then let me be frank. The Russians are becoming an increasing issue for both of us.”
That gets my attention, but I keep the peak of interest contained. “Go on.”
“They’ve been pushing further and further into the territories along our mutual borders, creeping in like some sort of noxious apparition. The damage they’ve done to our trade lines is tangible. From the intelligence reports, I’ve come to believe that it’s a coordinated move against both our factions. One intended to create a war between us so that they can grab territory while we’re at each other’s throats. A prelude to something far bigger.”
“I don’t suppose you would care to share this intelligence?”
“Let’s just say I have eyes in all the right places.” He smiles thinly. “They took your son, Mr. Cierro. That was a message. A demonstration. Why wait and risk seeing what comes next?”
My jaw clenches. “And how exactly do you know about that incident?”
“Like I said, I have eyes everywhere.” He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. “And they approached me with a proposition around that time.”
That puts my hackles up. “Whatever that proposition was, I assume you refused, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting across the table from me.”
Delan smiles with a nod like I’ve satisfied a curiosity of some sort. “That is correct, but I didn’t outwardly refuse you, see. I played the long game. I told them I would think about it. Which allowed me the time to have this conversation with you instead. The enemy of my enemy, as they say.”
Smart. Calculated. Exactly what I would have done in his position. Perhaps the man is smarter than I’ve been giving him credit for.
“And your solution to all these issues is a formal alliance?”
“One through marriage.” He glances at the girl beside him and then back at me. “One not easily broken or ignored. Consider it a shield of sorts for both of us. It would signal to one and all that a move against one faction is a move against both.”
He picks up his wine glass and takes a sip, watching me over the brim. The idea has merit, I can’t argue that.
“As a devout Catholic, marriage is not something I take lightly.” I fold my hands on the table in front of me and lean back as I say it.
“Precisely.” He sets the glass down once more, spinning it idly between his fingers. Then motions to the woman beside him. “I have a daughter, the perfect age for such an arrangement. Shufen is twenty-three, never married, never sullied. She is obviously educated and well-trained in the expectations of our world. It would be an excellent match.”
Shufen bows her head, eyes downcast in a show of demure respect. Her movement is practiced and graceful. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Cierro. My father has spoken highly of you.”
When she finally looks up, her eyes are the first thing I notice. They seem familiar, and I can’t quite place why. She sits with perfect posture, shoulders back but not rigid, hands folded in her lap. Every inch the perfect daughter.
I have to admit, she’s everything a wife in our world should be. Polite. Submissive. Beautiful. Educated. The kind that would run a household efficiently, host parties flawlessly, and raise well-rounded children.
Everything I’ve come to realize I no longer want.
There’s no spark there. No interest. No flare of pride or argument. Simply acceptance and unwavering obedience. The complete opposite of my Chloe.
My Chloe? When did she become my Chloe?
“Shufen has been preparing for an arrangement of this kind her entire life,” Delan says with evident pride. “She understands the expectations. The duties. She would be an asset to your family, and a good mother for your son, as well as any other children you may decide to have.”
I shouldn’t be surprised by the way he speaks of his own daughter, but it grinds my nerves. To Delan, this young woman is nothing more than an asset to be used in a transaction. Just another piece on the chessboard.
