Control. Always control.
His assistant arrived at six with coffee and an expression of barely concealed concern.
“You haven’t slept.”
“I’ll sleep when this is over.” Alessandro took the coffee: black, scalding, exactly right. “The Sweetwater trip is confirmed?”
David produced his tablet. One of the few people Alessandro hadn’t managed to drive away in fifteen years of being, as his brother put it, “aggressively unpleasant.”
“Flight leaves at noon. Private terminal, as requested. I’ve arranged accommodations at the Sweetwater Grand Hotel; they had availability because of the legal summit happening this week. The town’s supernatural archives are open by appointment only. I scheduled you for tomorrow morning.”
“Good.”
“I also compiled a list of curse-breaking specialists.” David held up a hand before Alessandro could interrupt. “I know. You don’t want them. But sir…”
“No.”
“Three of them have experience with dragon bloodlines. One worked on the Valdez situation in Argentina, and she successfully broke a four-generation…”
“I said no.” The words came out harder than intended. David didn’t flinch; to his credit, he never did. But his expression shuttered.
“Sir. With respect. You’ve been pursuing this alone for a decade, and the curse is accelerating.”
“Which is why I need to handle it myself. Specialists cost time. Consultations cost time. I need the original contract, and I need to study it without someone looking over my shoulder telling me what I should already know.”
“And if the contract doesn’t have the answer?”
“It will.”
It has to.
David was quiet. “Your father called.”
Of course he did.
“He wanted to know if you’d made any progress. I told him you were pursuing a promising lead.”
“That was generous of you.”
“I also told him you were taking care of yourself.” David’s gaze was pointed. “I’d prefer not to have lied about both things.”
Alessandro exhaled. A small concession, barely noticeable, but David had been with him long enough to have earned honesty. Or at least something closer to it than Alessandro gave anyone else.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re running yourself into the ground.”
“I’m doing what needs to be done. What no one else will do. What our father is too proud to acknowledge needs doing at all.” The words came out bitter. He hadn’t meant them to. “Someone has to fix this. It’s going to be me.”
“And if it can’t be fixed?”
The question sat between them. No one had ever asked it before. Not out loud. Not to his face.
Heat flickered at his fingertips, threatening to scorch the papers he was holding. “Then I’ll die trying. Which is what’s going to happen anyway if I do nothing.”
David nodded. “Your brother called too. Dante. He said to tell you he’s thinking about you. That you don’t have to do this alone.”
Yes, I do.
