I sigh, reaching for the bottle to refill my glass. “You don’t have to like him. You have to answer his calls and show up to meetings.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“You should.”
“You left. If your family wanted to keep doing business”—he lifts his glass, gesturing to me forcefully enough that some vodka sloshes over the rim—“if they considered me important enough to continue a partnership, thenyou”—another aggressive gesture—“would still be the one I dealt with. You left; I’m looking elsewhere. It’s business, Lev.”
Shit.
“You’ve benefited too,” I remind him. “Before we started working together, you were doing well. Since we started working together, you?—”
“I’ve seen the numbers. You impressed me, and I do not impress easily. I would have stayed if you had.”
“The agreement was between you and my family. Not you and me.”
“I did not meet with your family. I met with you.”
I refill my glass again. We might need a second bottle at this rate. I thought showing my face and reminding Malcolm of his gains would be enough to reassure him. I had no idea how close he was to walking away.
“I put ten fucking years into building this operation, Malcolm. So did you. You’re really willing to blow it all to bits because I got sick of flying from Russia every few months? The only thing that’s changed is?—”
“What did you do to Nico Morello’s fiancée?”
I bristle at Carina being referred to that way, so I take a sip rather than answering right away. Meanwhile, my mind races, trying to recall everything I know about Malcolm’s connections and how they might merge with Italian interests.
“Nothing she did not ask me to.”
Malcolm refills his glass as well, then reclines in his chair with a smirk. We’re out on the patio of his Winnetka home, beside a pool that reminds me of Carina. This entire city reminds me of Carina. SheisChicago to me.
“He claims you abducted her.”
“You spoke to him?”
“Not directly. There have been rumors.”
“There are always rumors,” I state. “Morello is misinformed.”
“He’s not the only one saying that. So, tell me, what am I to believe?”
“What I told you.”
“You got married?”
I exhale. Discussing Carina in a business setting feels wrong. But the main point of marrying her was so she had the protection of my name. That will only work if it’s well known that she’s my wife.
“Yes. I married Morello’s fiancée.”
“Why?”
I tilt my chin arrogantly. “Because I fucking wanted to.”
“That answer doesn’t make me trust you.”
“You already trust me. That’s why we’re talking next to your second kitchen at the house you actually live in, not a neutral location.”
“It’s an outdoor entertainment center.”
I glance at the fridge, sink, and gas grill. “Looks like a kitchen. An expensive kitchen in an expensive house that I helped you afford. I don’t owe you anything. I overdelivered on everything I promised, Malcolm.”
