While I’m appreciative to Simon for lying and putting on a great performance just now, I know we’re not done. We never will be. His actions are opposite to his words. His hate will be my claim. Claim over his soul and body. He can lie as much as he wants but I can read him like a book. That little fucker is going nowhere.
Just as I walk inside, Enrico appears out of nowhere. I haven’t seen him since we arrived, assuming he was in his room sulking. It appears I was wrong as he stands in front of me in a light blue fitted shirt with tailored white pants. His hair is neatly styled. He looks a thousand times better than he did in the states.
“Nice dinner with Father?” he asks.
“No.”
He scoffs like I’m the annoying child in the family who is always an issue.
“Why am I not surprised? You really do think you’re something. Who would turn down all this?” he asks, arms stretched out wide, signalling the room around us. “For working in a shitty country, on a shitty dock alongside the dumbest people.”
“I assume you are including yourself with those people.”
“You think you’re so clever. Like you’re the only one with a brain, the only one with plans.”
“Am I supposed to care what you think?”
“You should. You’ve been so wrapped up in your pathetic insignificant business and that gay guard, that you couldn’t see what was happening,” he says, mouth spitting with absolute hatred for me. The feeling is mutual.
“And what was that?”
“You know I’ve been waiting so patiently for this day. Waiting to pull the rug from underneath your self righteous feet.”
“Are you going to spit it out or drone on in code? You got something to say, fucking say it.”
Enrico steps closer to me.
“Come on, Carlos. Did you really think all that shit going wrong back in the States was just bad luck? That your people started turning on you?”
I think back to when I started my business. The issues of stealing and betrayal within my men. The amount of times I’ve had to involve the Kozlovs to help.
“You were behind it?”
He smiles, and for the first time it looks real. Ugly.
“Not alone. I had orders.”
The door from the main lounge opened into the entrance hallway and we both turn to see our father step into the room. Slowly moving toward us, I can tell he’s been listening to the conversation.
“Enrico, you weren't supposed to say anything,” he says sharply, voice like a whip.
“So it's true.”
“You refused to return home. You thought you were free, that you could just do what you wanted. I had to remind you where you belong.”
The temperature in the room is as cold as a freezer. My ears buzz louder with every word they spit out. How did I not see this?
“So you turned this idiot against me?”
“He volunteered.”
Enrico's smile flickers with pride. “You always thought I was the failure. The impulsive one. The weak one. Turns out I just knew how to play the part.”
“I defended you from him for years. Protected you from his wrath.”
“And you were good at it. Always the perfect older brother. The one who left and ripped me away from my home with you. Using me to follow your dreams. You think you are better than us. So I made sure you’d feel what it’s like when everything you built starts to fall.
My heart is pounding in my chest as the pieces click into place. The betrayals, the losses, the impossible pressure. All of it was orchestrated. A performance. I’d been the fool in the spotlight, trusting the wrong actors.
