28
Aria pouredtwo cups of coffee and watched Cole, tapping on his laptop at the table in the kitchen. Damian had gone up to shower after spending most of the night overseeing the operation to disrupt Primo's strategy with theGreeks.
She'd learned more about the business in the week they’d been back from Paris than she'd learned in all the years living with Primo. At first, Damian had been hesitant to include her in the details, but after she explained how important it was for her to have a sense of control over the life she was living — the life she was choosing — he’d loosened his reigns on theinformation.
She wasn’t surprised by the genius of his plan. He wasn’t a talker — he was a thinker. She was beginning to understand that his mind was like a state-of-the-art computer, constantly running scenarios and algorithms that were off the radar of most people — even most smartpeople.
It had been no accident that he’d built such a powerful presence in New York or that the Syndicate had chosen him torunit.
He wasbrilliant.
He and Cole had set up a cascading web of disruption that had started the morning before with an ATF raid on a container full of illegal weapons brought in by Anastos. It was followed with the detainment of several men on their way in from Greece, all of them suddenly on the no-fly list, thanks to Damian’s hackers, and the NYPD shakedown of low-level soldiers reporting to both Primo andAnastos.
Aria didn't feel bad about any of it. The weapons shouldn’t be in the States, the men were violent and indiscriminate criminals in their home country, and once Damian took over, the low-level soldiers would have to make a choice between serving Primo and Anastos or slinking quietly into the night anyway. They should thank him for getting them off the street before the war truly begantomorrow.
She took the coffee to the table and set one down in front of Cole. He tore his eyes away from the computer, surprise flashing across his features as she took the seat acrossfromhim.
He’d been in and out of the house since they arrived from Paris, and while Damian was never one to advertise his feelings, it was obvious Cole was more than an employee. Aria had become curious about the icy, blue-eyed man who was every bit as unreadable as the man sheloved.
“How's it going?” Ariaaskedhim.
He looked up, suspicion shading his eyes. “It’sgoing.”
She held his gaze. “You don’t like me very much,doyou?”
“Whether I like someone has little to do with anything,”hesaid.
She smiled. “I don’t think that’s true. Damian cares very much about youropinion.”
He leaned back in the chair. “Is that why you care whether Ilikeyou?”
“No,” she said. “Damian cares what you think — but notaboutme.”
There was no point blowing sunshine up Cole Grant’s ass. He would only lose respect for her and it wouldn’t accomplish anything anyway. Damian loved her like she loved him. Cole’s opinion wouldn’t change that for eitherofthem.
His gaze sharpened, like he was seeing something he hadn’t seen before in her face. “You’re rightthere.”
“I’d just like to know for my own benefit,” she said. “Why you don’t like me,Imean.”
He shrugged. “I don’t dislike you, but you’re Primo Fiore’s sister — and in case you didn’t notice, we’re at war with PrimoFiore.”
“So you don’t trust me,”shesaid.
“Don’t take it personally,” he said, taking a drink of coffee. “I don’t trustanyone.”
“ExceptDamian.”
“Except Damian,” heagreed.
“Can Iaskwhy?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do you havetoask?”
“I know why I trust him,” she said. “I want to know whyyoudo.”
He hesitated. “I was just a bartender when I met Damian,” he said. “Didn’t think he was anything special at first, just another trust fund baby, slumming it to get hiskicks.”
“What happened?” she asked. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and she couldn’t help wondering if he was only answering her questions because he feared Damian. Because he felt like she was somehow his boss by virtue of her relationship with Damian. “I’m sorry. You don’t have toanswerthat.”