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Tristan pushes me away and scrubs a hand over his face. “Jesus fuck, Carter. This isn’t about loyalty. This is about what’s best for the family and the empire.”
My stomach drops as I glance around the room, a growing sense of unease rising within me. “So, that’s it, huh? You all want to have me replaced by someone new? Fuck all of you.”
How can they all stand there and do nothing? After everything I’ve done and everything I’ve sacrificed?
I’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this empire, into this family, to make it what it is. And all these ungrateful fuckers can’t even look me in the eye. The ridiculousness of it all almost makes me want to laugh out loud.
Daniel steps out from behind Tristan and Paul, a determined look on his face. He exchanges a quick look with the men, who, after a brief hesitation, fall back.
Fuck me.
They already feel indebted to him and are acting like he’s the one on top. The realization makes red-hot anger burn through me, and my fingers itch with the desire to push Daniel up against the nearest wall and pummel him into a pulp.
I’m tempted not to stop until no one questions me ever again.
But when Tristan wheels around to face me, something about the look in his eyes makes me stop. With a disgusted snort, I take a step back and shove my trembling hands into my pockets. In silence, I follow Daniel and Tristan out onto the terrace.
Through the glass door, I see Lorenzo and Ernesto stand guard, their arms folded over their chests. Paul is the only one they let through, and he immediately flattens himself against the wall and avoids my gaze. A brusque wind rushes past as Daniel and I stand and face each other.
I take my hands out of my pocket and level my uncle with a pointed look. “You don’t get to come here and act like it’s already a done deal.”
A muscle ticks in Daniel’s jaw. “Fine.”
I cover the distance between us and hold his gaze. “When and if there’s a transition of power, it’ll be after we deal with our enemies. Now is not the time to put ourselves in a compromising position.”
After a brief pause, Daniel gives me a curt nod. “Agreed.”
I give Daniel another disgusted look and look over at Tristan. “Inform the rest of the men. I have somewhere else to be.”
Without waiting for a response, I storm past Paul and push the double doors of the terrace open. When I spill inside, the men straighten their backs, but none of them want to meet my gaze. I ignore them all, wrench the door open, and take the stairs two at a time. I have no idea where I’m going as I wander through the empty, low-lit streets of the city until I reach a bar with pulsing music and a neon sign out front.
Inside, it smells like wine and perfume, and many of the people are standing at the high bar tables scattered around, with only a few booths along the back wall. It’s one of the nicer bars I’ve been to lately, with its fresh coat of paint and calm music playing through the overhead speakers.
I go straight to the bar, lean over, and gesture to the bald-headed bartender. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a few women elbow each other and nod in my direction. Rolling my eyes, I down my drink and drape my jacket over the back of a chair. Music continues to play in the background while my head spins.
The longer I stand there, knocking back drink after drink, the worse I feel. Tristan and the others aren’t wrong to lose faith in me. I took my eye off the ball for Isabella, and now I can’t find it again. As much as I hate to admit it, I have no one to blame for this shit-show but myself.
Fucking hell.
How am I supposed to maintain my grip over the family if I don’t even want to? If I spend all my time and energy trying to keep thoughts of Isabella out of my mind?
With a growl, I fish my phone out of my pocket, my finger hovering over the voicemail she left me days ago. Scowling, I finish my drink and gesture for another. The bell above the door rings, and I glance up in time to see a familiar head of hair. I slam the glass against the counter with a little more force than necessary, my eyes widening as Sam materializes first, pushing her way through the crowd with a reluctant and frail-looking Isabella trailing behind her.
Even from where I’m standing, I can see how much weight she’s lost. But she looks beautiful in her short skirt and long boots.
More than a few of the men in the bar glance at her as she walks past. She remains huddled in her coat, her eyes never leaving the floor. Once they reach the other side of the bar, Sam gestures to an empty booth, and the two of them sit down. Isabella hides her face behind a menu, and Sam’s eyes dart over the bar, taking in the rows of tables on either side and the abstract paintings on the walls.
As soon as she sees me, Sam freezes.
I shove my way through the crowd, carrying my drink in my hand. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Isabella gasps, and her face lights up when she sees me. “Carter! What are you doing here? You know what, it doesn’t even matter. I’m just so happy to see you.”
I fix my gaze on Sam and ignore Isabella altogether. “I asked you what the fuck you’re doing. You can’t bring my pregnant fiancée into a bar.”
Sam stiffens and squares her shoulders. “She needed to get out of the house, and I thought a change of scenery would be good for her.”
I give Sam my most menacing look, and she shrinks a little. “You’re supposed to be taking care of her.”
