“Yeah, I know. They knew that, too, so it’s a little more complicated.”
“Of fucking course it is. What does Damien want?”
“Control. Ownership. Power.”
“Nothing much, then,” I deadpan.
There’s a knock at the door which forces Cruz to drop my hand in favour of getting our room service.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Em. I won’t let it be anything but.”
I listen to him sweet-talk the woman who delivers our breakfast, internally cringing as she blatantly chats him up when he quite clearly has a girl in here. My dress is hanging over the back of the chair that she can quite clearly see. I mean, it’s fine, I’m his niece, but she doesn’t know that.
Cruz catches the end of my eye roll when he walks back in, carrying a tray.
“What was that for?”
“Can you go anywhere without picking up some random woman?”
“Uh—”
“Actually, don’t answer that. I already know.”
“I was just being polite.”
“Sure you were.”
He places the tray full of pastries and coffee down on my bed, and I immediately reach for one of the mugs while he opts for a pain au raisin.
We both fall into a comfortable silence, and after about ten minutes, noise from the adjoining room starts up.
“Sounds like your entourage is awake,” I tell Cruz.
“You mean your entourage?” he jokes.
“My heroes.” We fall silent once more, despite the fact that we’ve both got a million and one things to discuss. “What are you going to do about Pops?”
Cruz blows out a long breath. “For basically selling my niece to the mafia? Kill him.”
I damn near choke on a piece of croissant.
“You’re not serious?” I ask once I’ve managed not to die.
“Deadly. I’m pretty sure your father will agree with me, too.”
“Shit, Dad… have you spoken to him?”
“Let me handle your dad, kid,” he says, reaching out to rustle my head like he used to do when I was an actual kid. “I’m gonna head out to deal with your little issue. Do what you need to do and we’ll head out when you're ready.”
“Where are we going?”
“My place, assuming those Greek fucks haven’t burned it to the ground already.” He’s teasing, I think, but still, panic washes through me.
Something tells me Theo would do a lot more than start a few fires to get me back right now.
But is it just because his father has tasked him to, or because he wants to?
All the things he’s said to me over the past few days float around my head while Cruz shoves his feet into his boots and grabs his cut. The image of his face when he found me standing with Cruz last night, when reality slammed into him, hits me full force again.