She glared at me. “Some would say that was you.”
“He was never the loyal charge you thought him to be,” I said, tearing my eyes from her to look at Costa. “I don’t relish being the one to break that to you.”
Costa came around his desk. “What’re you saying?”
“I came to you as a boy when I was lost and in need of help,” I said. “You brought me to this very room. We formed a plan. You trusted me then, and I’m telling you to trust me now. Diego never forgave us for what we did.”
Costa drew back. “For your parents?” he asked. “That was years ago. He was—what—eight at the time?”
“He has seen it as a betrayal ever since. I set it in motion, but you aimed the gun, and you pulled the trigger. We each watched our mother and father die by your hand.”
“Against Bianca’s advice,” Costa said, walking to one of the other windows and looking out. “I did that to ensure you boys understood that even though I was taking mercy on you, I was the boss, and I was not to be fucked with.”
I took a drag. “He has fucked with you. And me.”
“Bianca warned me that could happen. She never worried about you,” Costa continued, glancing at me, “but your brother . . . she wondered if seeing that had irreparably scarred him. I called her paranoid.”
Natalia’s eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead. “You never told me that.”
“As I said. I thought it was bullshit, so after her death, I didn’t give it much thought.”
Out the window, I tapped ashes from my cigarette. “He sees us as responsible for the loss of his parents, his family’s business, and perhaps most importantly—his legacy.”
Costa returned to his desk, but sat against the front of it this time, crossing his arms over his chest. “He blames you too?”
I nodded once. “He never forgave me for it.”
“How would you know?” Natalia asked. “You weren’t here. He was. He stayed by my father’s side for almost twenty years.”
“Diego is loyal,” I agreed. “To himself, and his needs. Staying here suited him.” I raised my eyes to Costa. “He’s always been good with strategy, hasn’t he? He knows when short-term sacrifice equals long-term gains.”
I knew Costa was thinking of how Diego had convinced him to work with the Maldonados, despite the risk involved. The business they would’ve gained from such a prolific cartel would’ve set them up for years to come—if not for me, of course.
Natalia’s defense of my brother was weak at best. She was listening to what I had to say, but until she could grasp the full meaning of it, her default was to act defensive.
But the doubt was in her. She was beginning to see the truth about Diego. As I tended to and nurtured her distrust, it would grow, and her devotion to him would shift easily. I just needed to cultivate a weak trait of my own to get us there—patience.
I studied my cigarette, considering the best way to word what came next. I raised my eyes to Costa. “Diego’s plan was always to earn Natalia’s love so he could use that against you to take your business.”
Costa’s response rumbled through the room. “That’s a bold accusation.”
He could call it what he wanted. It was also the truth. I’d waited too long to tell him that, and yet, it was Natalia’s reaction I watched for. A flush worked its way up from the collar of her tight little t-shirt. Her nipples hardened when she was angry—interesting. Where would she direct her wrath?
“He said he didn’t care about the business—he just wanted to save enough money so we could live comfortably,” Natalia said, her jaw working back and forth. “He said we were going to California.”
“I’m sure he also said he’d marry you.” I inclined my head toward her left hand. The small ring was missing a diamond fit for a queen, but that was on its way. “And that he’d love you. Protect you. Yet here we are.”
Her sexy lips twitched in frustration. “How can I believe a word you say?”
“Don’t, then,” I said, and looked to Costa. “Believe your gut. Logic and reason. Believe a man’s motivations when he shows them to you.”
Costa massaged his jaw, lost in thought. “How?” was his only response.
I brushed ash from my pant leg. “Diego lied to Natalia as part of a greater plan to make her love and trust him,” I explained. “Then, when it came time, he’d ask her to choose. You or him.” Natalia’s face reddened. I did so enjoy when she flushed and blushed, such a desert rose . . . and I looked forward to watching her bloom under more intimate circumstances. “She would’ve chosen Diego.”
“You don’t know that,” she said immediately.