Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Michael’s face is flushed and sweat dots his hairline. When the door opens, I realize the music in the outer room has stopped. It’s silent. Too silent for the number of people out there unless Cassian has cleared the house. I guess he wouldn’t want witnesses.
Panic has me gripping the armrests. Amal and Daniel are upstairs, asleep in their beds. Malek moved into the house with his children after dad died claiming it was at Michael’s request. What will they wake to in the morning? A bloodbath? Will they wake at all?
Cassian walks to the wall of photos again.
“Where are Lombardi’s children?” he asks as if having read my mind. “They live here now, I believe?”
When neither of us answers, he looks over his shoulder at me, eyebrows raised.
“They’re not part of this,” I say, knowing how far this can go.
He faces me fully. “Not the question I asked. Where are they?”
I look to Michael but he’s too focused on his hand.
“Allegra,” Cassian calls. “Eyes on me.”
I turn back to him. “Please,” I say.
“Where are they?”
I wipe the tears that fall from my eyes. “Asleep.”
“I doubt that,” he mutters.
“Whatever is going on, they’re not—”
“Upstairs then,” he says, tilting his head toward the door.
A soldier moves and I leap to my feet, ready to blockade the door with my body, but the look in Cassian’s eyes glues my feet to the carpet.
“Daniel is five!” I call out.
“Sit down, Allegra. I’m not going to tell you again.”
“Whatever you’re going to do—”
“You’re not helping them.” He gestures to the chair behind me.
I drop onto the edge of the seat, gripping the armrests to anchor myself.
“Better.” He looks at one of the soldiers. “Make sure they stay up there.”
The man nods.
“They’ll be scared,” I plead. Cassian turns to me, watching me intently. “Please.”
“Wait at the top of the stairs,” he tells the man, then turns to me. “Try not to scare them,” he adds, but it feels more like he’s taunting me than anything else.
The soldier walks out and a moment later, Malek strides in. He’s not being forced. When he sees us, he appears surprised. It’s an act. I know it. But if he’s panicked, he’s not showing it. He’s better at concealing his true self than Michael ever was. He smiles, even, as if Cassian were an old friend.
He takes in the room, Michael on his knees, me in the chair with my fingernails digging half-moon shapes into the leather.
When Malek faces Cassian, I understand something. This is not necessarily bad for Malek. Whatever my brother did, this will pave the way for him to take control of what’s left of this family. Isn’t that what he’s always wanted? Isn’t that why dad took more and more distance from him over the last year?
A soldier closes the door.
“Cassian. What brings you here?” Malek asks.
Cassian’s eyebrows rise, surprised but bored, as if Malek’s reaction isn’t wholly unexpected. “Don’t play me for a fool, Malek.”
Malek’s lips pull into a tight line, and he draws a deep breath in. He knows exactly what’s brought Cassian Trevino into our home.
“Here’s what going to happen,” Cassian says, hands in his pockets, the glint of metal just visible where his jacket is pushed back. “You,” he says, turning pointedly to Michael. He’s got that rage under control again, his brutality hidden beneath a very thin layer of control. “Cost me four million dollars.”
My mouth falls open, my heart thudding so hard I’m not sure I’m hearing right over the blood pumping in my ears.
“You’re going to pay it back. With interest that will double it. By the end of next week.”
Michael’s jaw tightens.
“Now, Cassian, you know that won’t be possible,” Malek says, moving to the armchair across from mine and taking a seat, crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. “We don’t have access to that kind of money. When Alaric died—”
“No?” Cassian asks, cutting him off. He takes in Malek’s casual stance. He doesn’t like it. Not one bit. “That’s a problem you’ll need to solve then, isn’t it? You are the brains behind the family now that Alaric’s gone, aren’t you? Michael here is lucky it’s just his wrist I broke. It’s a preview of what will come if I don’t have my money by the end of next week.” He glances at Michael when he says this, disdain in his tone.
“Cassian, be reasonable,” Malek says.
“Reasonable? Maybe Michael is too stupid to know, but you certainly aren’t, Malek. We’ve danced this dance before. It didn’t end well for the Moretti family then. It won’t end well for you now.” I wonder what he’s talking about when he steps toward Malek and kicks his foot. “Get the fuck up.”
Malek’s face darkens, but he’s no fool. He’s in dangerous territory and he knows it.
He gets up. He’s about four inches shorter than Cassian. He’s always the shortest man in the room and he’s always hated the fact. Cassian steps even closer, towering over him as if he knows it.