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“Carveli is on the way up.”
“Noted,” I grunt. My hand closes to a tight fist on the table.
Outwardly, I may appear calm. Beneath the surface, though, I’m a swirling dark pool of poison and fury. And I hate admitting to even myself why I feel that way.
I hate knowing that my barely contained rage at being in an enclosed space talking business with Massimo Carveli has nothing to do with his reputation, or what he does for a living.
…It’s about who he shares a fucking bed with every night.
Eloise.
It’s always about Eloise.
“Hey.”
I flinch, whipping my gaze from the table to meet Gabriel’s concerned eyes.
“You really don’t need to be here for?—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Black?”
The intercom on the conference table squawks as Megan, the front desk receptionist, interrupts.
“Mr. Carveli and his team are here.”
“Wonderful. Please escort them to Conference Room A. Thanks, Megan,” Gabriel chirps, all business. He turns to me as we all stand. “Look?—”
“I’m fine.”
I turn away to face the door, effectively ending that tedious conversation. A few seconds later, there’s a discreet knock before Megan opens the door with a small smile and then steps back.
I turn to stone as Massimo steps inside, and don’t realize my hands have curled to fighter’s fists until Gabriel kicks my ankle under the table. He clears his throat, putting on his best, most unctuous politician’s smile as he steps around the table with a hand outstretched.
“Ahh, Mr. Carveli! Welcome to Crown and Black.”
My hands unclench, but I’m still stiff as a board as Massimo and some big Italian guy who looks like he’d fit in better at one of my fight clubs than at a legal office step inside.
“Mr. Black,” Massimo purrs with his Sicilian accent, shaking my brother’s hand firmly. “I’m glad we could arrange this meeting.”
“Likewise, likewise,” Gabriel smiles. “Allow me to introduce my associates, Taylor Crown…”
Taylor walks around the table to shake Massimo’s hand.
“And my brother, Alistair.”
There’s no fucking way I’m shaking this motherfucker’s hand, so I don’t even make a move to walk around the table. If Massimo notices the slight, he ignores it as his eyes meet mine. He frowns slightly as he shakes a finger at me.
“Alistair Black…” he muses, his brows knitting. “Have we met?”
“I think I’d have remembered,” I say flatly, ignoring the “please behave” look on my brother’s face.
Massimo shrugs, an easy smile on his chiseled face. “My mistake, then. I could swear we’ve met before. Maybe we just have more in common than we think.”
“I’d bet on it.”
Taylor shoots me a pleading look past Massimo’s shoulder that I ignore.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Carveli,” Gabriel smiles. “Can I get you and your associate anything to drink?”
