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“E,” he warned, sitting forward.

I smiled. The bastard actually looked nervous, which made answering the call worth it.

“What's up, Yara?”

“Is Malachi with you?” she asked immediately, skipping every form of greeting.

I looked directly at him. He slowly shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he silently warned me not to say a fucking word.

Twenty years of loyalty.

And I sold his ass out immediately.

“Yep.”

“Bitch,” Malachi muttered, shaking his head.

“Put me on speaker,” Yara demanded.

I tapped the screen and laid my phone on the desk. Malachi sank back against the couch, folding his arms over his chest with the irritated expression he reserved specifically for her. At thirty-five, Yara was the youngest of us, but she'd known us before the money had commas. While Malachi and I were busy building an empire nobody could put on tax returns, she'd gone to school and learned how to build the kind we could.

Now she handled the legitimate side of my world with the same authority Malachi carried in the streets.

“Before either of you start with me,” she began, her voice sharp enough to cut through the office, “I just got off the phone with the contractor. Would somebody like to explain why that man called me talking about somebody threatened to throw his ass off the balcony?”

Malachi turned his head toward me.

I looked right back at him.

Neither of us said shit.

“Ezra,” Yara snapped, clearly recognizing the silence for what it was.

“He fucked up my floor,” I answered, leaning back in my chair.

“It's a construction site, Ezra. People are going to be walking around, moving equipment, and making messes. That's generally how construction works.”

“He fucked up an expensive floor, Yara. You know how much that shit cost?”

“I know exactly how much it cost because I'm the one who approved the invoice,” she shot back. “And I also know threatening the contractor isn't going to magically repair it.”

Malachi lowered his head, pressing his fist against his mouth as his shoulders started shaking again. I pointed at him, silently warning him to keep that shit to himself, but Yara must've heard him because her attention shifted immediately.

“And you can stop laughing, Malachi. I've been calling you all damn afternoon.”

His laughter died, and he slowly lifted his head.

“Damn, Yara. What I do now?”

“Don't play with me. I sent you paperwork three days ago that still hasn't been signed.”

Malachi dragged a hand over his face, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. “I'ma get to it.”

“You were supposed to get to it three days ago.”

“I said I got you.”

“And I said I needed it three days ago. See how we're going in circles?”