"Have you eaten?" he asks.
"Sure."
"Have you slept?"
“Yes."
"Have you spoken to her?"
I look at him, he knows the answer. "She asked for space," I say. The word still tastes wrong in my mouth. "I'm giving her space."
"You're giving yourself alcohol poisoning."
"Same thing." I shrug as I lean over and try to find a bottle that isn’t empty.
He sits with me in silence for a while.
"Go home, Andreas," I tell him.
"You’re pathetic. I'm not leaving you like this."
“Fuck you.”
Andreas rolls his eyes. “You’re such a whiney little bitch.”
And he’s right. I've killed men. I've burned buildings. I've destroyed lives and empires and never lost sleep. But letting that woman walk away with her brother's arm around her shoulders, that is the hardest thing I have ever done.I should have stopped her.I should have locked the gates, told Storm to swim home, carried her to the bedroom, and fucked her until she forgot every word her brother said. That's what the old Kairo would have done. That's what every instinct in my body screamed at me to do.
But she asked me not to.
And I'm trying to be the man she wants.
Even if it kills me.
Andreas staysto look after me like I’m a fucking child. He forces me to eat a sandwich I taste nothing of, and makes me drink water between the whiskey. He doesn't lecture me again, he just sits there, scrolling through his phone, handling the empire I've abandoned for a week. Every now and then, he looks over at me like he's checking I'm still breathing.
Eventually, the sun goes down.
"You need to shower," Andreas says. "You smell like a distillery fucked a gym bag."
"Charming."
"I'm serious, shower, change, and tomorrow we deal with the business you've been ignoring for a week. The Colombians aren't going to wait forever."
"I don't give a fuck about the Colombians," I tell him.
"You will when they start moving on your territory," he states with a raised brow.
I don't answer because I know he is right.
He glances at the screen and frowns before answering it. "Yeah."
I'm not listening. I'm watching the pool light ripple against the glass doors. I'm thinking about her humming in the kitchen.
"When?" Andreas's voice changes, it’s the same tone he uses when a shipment goes sideways.
I look at him.
He's standing now, and his face has gone white beneath his tan. He turns away from me and lowers his voice, but I catch the words anyway.
