Danger surfaced in Malachar’s expression. “Are you dismissing me?”
“I’m suggesting that loitering in alleys isn’t a good look for a family advisor.”
Neither of them moved. Then Malachar laughed—a sound that raised the hair on Alessandro’s arms.
“Of course. My apologies. The sea air must be affecting my judgment.” He walked toward his car, pausing beside Alessandro. “Give my regards to your baker. Tell her I look forward to… future conversations.”
He drove away.
Alessandro stood in the alley, blood roaring in his ears, trying to reconcile the man he’d just seen with the advisor he’d trusted for a decade.
They didn’t match.
They didn’t match at all.
He found Dante waiting at the front entrance, face grim.
“We need to talk,” his brother said.
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Too bad.” Dante blocked the stairs. “Marina’s been at Bea’s for two hours. She looks like someone kicked her puppy. And you just had lunch with a man she specifically told you was dangerous.”
“She’s overreacting.”
“Is she?” Dante’s expression hardened. “Because I’ve been thinking about Malachar too. About how long he’s been in our family’s orbit. About how none of his advice has ever actually helped.”
“He’s been supportive…”
“He’s been present. That’s not the same thing.” Dante stepped closer. “Marina sees something, Alessandro. I see it too. Why don’t you?”
Because seeing it would mean accepting that he’d been wrong. That he’d trusted the enemy. That a decade of independent research and careful strategy had played right into Malachar’s hands.
Alessandro couldn’t face that. Not yet.
“I know what I’m doing,” he said.
“Do you?” Dante shook his head slowly. “Because the brother I know would never choose a family acquaintance over the woman he loves. Not unless something was very, very wrong.”
The word landed.Loves.
Did he love Marina?
Even muted, even guarded, she was there: the steady beat of her presence like a second heartbeat. The way she’d become essential to him without his permission.
Yes. He loved her.
And he was losing her because he couldn’t admit he might be wrong.
“I’ll fix this,” Alessandro said.
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Dante studied him. “You saw something, didn’t you? When you came back. Something that shook you.”
“He was here. After our meeting. Looking at the bakery like…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
