Page 31 of No Greater Oblivion

“I already told you. I have no intention of absorbing his empire into mine. Take what you want or don’t. It makes no difference to me.”

He considers this a moment then gives a curt nod. Something tells me he isn’t entirely convinced but that won’t matter by the time this meeting is over.

Don Enrique is the last to speak. “I won’t stand in your way, Don Alejandro. But I won’t help you either.”

“I can accept that.”

The other men at the table exchange glances, and satisfied with the outcome of our meeting, go to make their exits. They shake hands with Don Rubin and thank him for hosting us in his office and Sergio opens the door, effectively unsealing the vault and marking the formal end of our meeting. As planned, Mauricio, one of my security guards, walks in and delivers an “urgent” message from Lettie, one two of us had worked out beforehand.

“What would you like to do?” he asks.

I pause and rub my jaw. Diego approaches the exit and we exchange glances. He tugs on his ear and leaves the room. A few feet behind him, Don Mauricio and Don Enrique are engrossed in deep conversation, their voices mere whispers in the otherwise quiet room. The two of them are related through Don Mauricio’s mother who was Don Enrique’s favorite niece, the only child of his youngest sister who died of breast cancer when Don Mauricio was only eight years old. I expected Don Enrique’s abstinence during today’s meeting and predicted his grandnephew’s hesitancy and ambition would prevent him from a wholehearted commitment. The two are often united in most major decisions and this is no different. As they make their approach to the door, they’re too lost in conversation to realize we’re heading in the same direction.

It’s the perfect opportunity for us to cross paths.

“We’ll make a stop at the house,” I tell him and start for the door, making sure he falls into step beside me. “I want to make sure Dahlia’s all right before I visit my grandfather. Call my sister back and let her know we’re on our way.”

He gives a firm nod. “Of course.”

I stop at the door and look up, pretending to notice Don Mauricio first. We shake hands and his eyes briefly skate over the man at my side. The one with whom he shares a name and an eerie familial resemblance. He makes a sharp double take and can barely conceal the look of shock on his face. All of ten seconds pass before he’s able to compose himself but not before I spot him falter.

God, it’s just too easy.

The man at my side doesn’t notice. He’s too eager to get out of here and make that phone call to care about the Don in front of him. He’s loyal and devoted to his job, I’ll give him that much.

“Gentlemen, this is Mauricio Sunyer. We’re making some changes to the family’s security detail so expect to see him more often,” I say, making casual introductions. “Sunyer, this is Don Enrique Villamizar and Don Mauricio Falcón.”

He shakes hand with the elder Don first before moving on to the next.

Don Mauricio’s back is stiff, face unreadable when he asks, “Sunyer, is it?”

His son replies politely, “Yes, sir.”

“Two Mauricios in the same room,” Don Enrique attempts a good-natured pass at humor, oblivious to the catastrophe taking place in front of him. “We’ll have to make sure not to confuse them.”

A difficult feat, I think to myself. Considering father and son practically share the same face.

It’s hard to tell because Mauricio Junior has inherited his mother’s coloring; born to a Somalian mother adopted by Spanish parents, she was brown-skinned and dark-haired just like her son who inherited none of his father’s fair-features, as most of his family is northern. But they both have the same mouth, same sharp eyes, and impressive height. It’s in their mannerisms and the way they speak, even their voices sound the same; a deep vibrato that’s difficult to miss.

“Is the situation so dire it requires heightened security?” Don Mauricio articulates his question carefully, so as not to arouse suspicion. No one is supposed to know about his illegitimate child. Not even the son standing beside me.

“As I’m sure you know, Manuel was quite the loss. His family has served ours faithfully for many years and with him gone, we had to restructure. Mauricio is working directly under Dimitrio now.” I make it a point to use his first name as well as informing the Don exactly who his son is being groomed by. Before he can ask another question, I glance at the watch on my wrist and straighten my shoulders. “I have an appointment to keep with my grandfather. Thank you for coming today. We’ll keep in touch.”

Don Enrique dips his head. “We will.”

Mauricio and I leave the building in a rush, him heading to Dimitrio’s car, while I step into Diego’s.

“How did it go?” my brother asks.

“Child’s play.” I pull out my phone. “I’d have a more difficult time convincing our sister to spend her way into bankruptcy.”

He chuckles.

I call Abuelo and let him know I’m running late. When I hang up, Diego turns to me. “Do you think it’ll work?”

“Let’s see. Falcón’s secret love child is working for our family in a position where his life’s constantly in danger. Do you think it’s incentive enough to back up an ally in a war that could possibly get your son killed?”

He tsks. “I’m disturbed by your level of thinking sometimes.”