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“Tolerating someone you hate is toxic to your sanity. Family is no exception.”
“Yeah…” I sat up farther and grabbed his shirt at the edge of the bed. I pulled it on, cold from the draft that came from the terrace. “But I’ve got to help my sister. She’s too young to know better.”
He watched me run my fingers through my hair. “I need to get back. Have business that requires my attention.”
“I do too. I’m behind on work.”
“Then we’ll leave tonight.”
“I’ll have to come back and deal with my sister later.”
“I’ll come with you. And if I can’t, you’re still welcome to stay here.”
I couldn’t turn down an offer like that. A beautiful home right in the heart of Florence. My favorite gelato place was so close. And his clothes were in the closet, so I could wear one of his shirts to bed. “Thanks.”
18
BARTHOLOMEW
I sat in the parlor, Bleu on the couch across from me, the rest of my men sprinkled throughout the room, listening to the conversation with attentive ears.
“The Moroccans have cut ties with Leonardo,” Bleu said. “Naturally, Leonardo is in full-on meltdown.”
Now that I knew how he treated his daughter, this was even more satisfying. “Good.” I brought the cigar to my lips and took a deep puff, my body humming with power. “And he’s got one man down too.” That was just the icing on the cake.
“He’ll turn to different partnerships in his desperation. Probably even the US.”
“But we know that won’t go anywhere.” I rested my arm on the armrest, grinning like a fool. I’d moved my chess pieces and had my checkmate before Leonardo even realized we were playing. The death of his brother couldn’t have been more convenient. Too distracted by the funeral and revenge against his small-time enemies, he had no idea that a much bigger shark had joined the bloody waters.
“No.”
“Good work, Bleu.” I stabbed my cigar into the ashtray before I stood up.
“Are you leaving?”
“Yes.” I headed to my bedroom to change. “The prime minister is expecting me.”
* * *
I parked at the curb and walked to the front door. The lights in the window were on, so I knew she was in residence. My hands straightened my obnoxious suit jacket before I walked up the stone steps.
The door opened—and it was Cauldron. “Bartholomew.”
I gave a slight nod. “Is she ready?”
“Trying to fit into her dress.”
It was an odd thing to say, so I gave him a stare.
“She’s pregnant.”
Great.
“She’s not showing yet. But in another month or two, it’ll be an issue.” He opened the door wider so I could enter the townhouse.
My eyes swept the room as I looked for her. The downstairs was empty.
“This is the part where you say congratulations.”
