Finally, he sits back, takes a long cigar from his pocket, and puts it in his mouth. He doesn’t offer me one.
“What were you thinking, bringing her here?”
I grimace at his words. I’ve been asking myself that question all day.
“We have an arrangement,” I say without looking at him. “It won’t affect the business.”
“It better not.” Father chews on his cigar. “You understand your position, don’t you, boy?”
I hate his tone. It’s dripping with scorn. I look at him, tensing my jaw.
“Have I ever failed you?”
“Not yet.” He tilts his head. “But this is close.”
“She’s just a girl. My mistress. That’s all.”
“An Italian mafia Don’s daughter.” He wrinkles his nose. “Feliks is rude, but he’s not wrong.”
My hand tightens around my glass. “Feliks is a fool, and you are too if you agree with him.”
A spark of something in my father’s eye. I so rarely stand up to him, and that was walking a fine line. If I outright called him foolish, that would be grounds for punishment—and potentially death, if that’s what he wanted. Instead of rage, he seems amused.
“You have your position on merit, Maxim. You are good at your work, I’ll give you that. You’re dedicated to the family and you’re ruthless. I see some of myself in you, but you’re not my blood. You understand that, don’t you?”
I nod once. “Yes, Father.”
I understand it better than he knows. I’m reminded every day that I’m an outsider, that I don’t belong.
That I’m adopted.
It means I have to try twice as hard to succeed. My brothers are given everything, because they are my father’s sons. They are from his loins and of his blood, while I’m not. Yes, I’m related to him—he’s my biological uncle—but that doesn’t matter.
I’ll always be the adopted son, never the true son.
“Make sure this girl isn’t trouble. If she causes so much as a single issue, I will hold you accountable. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Good. Now go.” He takes a lighter from his pocket and raises the flame to the cigar.
I get to my feet. My head pounds with fury but I keep it at bay. After everything I’ve done for this family, all the blood on my hands, he has the nerve to talk to me like that—like I don’t deserve a mistress of my own if I so choose. I knew he wouldn’t approve, but I didn’t expect him to be so demeaning.
It enrages me. I’ve done nothing but bring this family wealth and prosperity. I’ve killed countless enemies and succeeded in ways my brothers never have, and it’s still not enough. All he can see are my faults. All he can see is my blood.
I reach the door, but before I can leave, he speaks. “Maxim? One more thing.”
I look back and wait.
He takes a long puff and stares at me through a wreath of smoke.
“You can do better than a pimp’s daughter.”
I look into his eyes and I hope he can see the loathing that flows from my core. I say nothing as I turn and leave the room. If I open my mouth now, it’ll only damn me and ruin Siena.
But I’m livid as I reach my rooms. Siena’s not there and it makes me nervous, but I trust Emiliya and Galina. They wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, even if they do think she’s not a good match for me. I pour myself a vodka and stand by the window, staring out over the city, fuming. I keep seeing my father and his cigar, the cherry end glowing bright, his eyes hooded. You can do better. He doesn’t know a goddamn thing.
I can’t do better. To him, I’m never good enough. Siena’s just one more shovel of dirt over my grave.
The door opens. I’m halfway finished my drink when she steps inside. I turn and she smiles at me, her cheeks flushed. She looks so beautiful I could strip her down and drink her instead. She’d get me drunk—she already did. I’m intoxicated and stupid enough to try to make this work.
It never will. My father will never let me marry her. And six weeks from now, my life will explode as Don Bastone tells my father the truth about our deal.
“Your sisters are nice,” she says tentatively. “I’m not so sure about your brothers.”
“Feliks is an asshole. Jasha is okay.”
She smiles and chews her lip. God, I love that. I want to nibble that lip and pull her hair.
I want the girl from that night again. I see glimpses of her, hiding.
She wraps her arms around herself and starts blinking back tears.
It’s so sudden, and I don’t understand it. I want to go to her, but her body language is all closed off, like she wants to get away and hide.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, head tilted.
“Are you really going to make me say it?”