Page 75 of Accidental Alliance

From what I saw, there had never been any true hostility breeding between them. Not enough for the Russo family to suspect ours was behind the attack. It would make no sense for my father to kill Amos Russo.

The Russo alliance brought stability and kept profits on both our sides consistent, and enemies cautious. Amos had influence my father respected, and my father respects very few things he does not own.

Killing him would have created chaos. The kind that costs money and invites vultures just as Giovano is accusing us of being now.

The next thought comes sharp and unwelcome.

Except… we did benefit from chaos.

After Amos died, the Russo family fractured almost immediately. Old loyalties turned brittle while the men in Amos’s inner circle who had once smiled at one another across wedding tables and formal dinners began whispering about succession and territory, none of which they wanted to share.

There were no loyalties left after those first few months. Not a single hand strong enough to hold the syndicate together remained once internal conflict grew.

That was when my family stepped in. To stabilize operations, my father had said, and prevent outside exploitation in order to protect shared interests.

At the time, I swallowed those ideas back then because I needed them to be true. Because if they were not true, then what did that make me?

What did that make the choice I made when I walked away from Isabella? Foolish? Misguided?

My father moves closer to Giovano now, his polished shoes near silent against the floor. “Your brother understood the nature of power. You never did. That is why Amos led and you advised.”

Giovano snarls at him with bloodied teeth. “I advised him not to trust snakes. Look at what good that did when he ignored me.”

My father stops in front of him, towering over him with an old king’s calm. “Perhaps that says more about your value as consigliere than it says about his judgment.”

Giovano surges against the restraints again

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Alessio watching with the smallest curl of satisfaction tugging at his mouth, but I do not look at him for long.

My attention is fixed on my father and the controlled line of his shoulders. On the faint boredom in his voice and the fact that he has not once denied anything.

Not directly, at least.

Something restless begins moving under my skin.

Giovano spits blood onto the floor near my father’s shoes. “My brother was going to pull away from you. That is what this has always been about. Amos saw what you were becoming. He saw how much control you wanted over territory that wasn’t yours and what you were willing to do to gain control over it.”

My father lifts a shoulder in response. “Amos was a businessman. He understood negotiation. Sometimes, that led to a difference of opinions.”

“He refused you.”

“We disagreed,” my father corrects.

“He refused you,” Giovano repeats, voice gaining strength through sheer fury. “Two days later, he was dead.”

My father’s mouth tightens. “It seems you have spent eight years building resentment out of your own misplaced grief. That is understandable. Pathetic, but understandable.”

Giovano laughs again, and this time it nearly breaks into a cough. “You always did mistake emotions for weakness. I see nothing has changed.”

Alessio sighs then, the sound cutting into the conversation. “We are getting off topic.”

The fluorescent lights hum overhead, the sound irritatingly loud. Giovano breathes harshly through his bloodied lips before sitting up fully and rolling his shoulders back.

His bound hands flex uselessly against the restraints, though that seems of little interest to him now as he pulls his gaze away from my father to focus it on my brother instead.

Alessio smiles at him. “Shall we bring your niece in, then?”

Giovano’s eyes widen.