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His reminder that I’d been an angry young man, taking out my frustration on anyone who dared anger the young prince of the palace, was a hard slap in my face. Both my brothers had taken their share of my controlling ways. I pulled back, shoving my hands into my pockets. “We can agree to disagree about anything, Stavros, but the subject of Whitney is off limits.”
“What happened to Pops’ insistence you form an alliance with another powerful organization?”
Snorting, I shook my head. The old ways. “Because we’re not in the twentieth century any longer.”
“Maybe if you’d taken Zakaryan up on his request for you to marry his daughter, none of this would have occurred.”
I should have known he’d throw that in my face. Up to this generation, marriages had been used as nothing more than business transactions. The point of love had been lost on my ancestors. Even my parents’ marriage had been a contract negotiated between two powerful families in Greece, allowing the combined regime to control without fear of loss of life. The fact my parents had bolted from the kingdom, their love blossoming into something more than a contract had left a bad taste in the mouths of my extended family. No one from our clan, as we’d been called, would be welcome anywhere in Greece.
Yet my father had still preached the benefits of the past. I refused to allow a single sibling to be forced into a union they despised. But I also couldn’t allow them to enter into a contractual agreement that wasn’t protected.
“That was the man’s ugly attempt at clawing his way into power, brother. His offer wasn’t even a consideration, and you know it. Why the hatred?”
He leaned against the foyer wall, tapping his head on the surface several times. “This is getting out of hand. The Feds are eventually going to come knocking if the bloodshed continues.”
“I know that. With any luck, we’ll have what we need to destroy Zakaryan.” I sensed he didn’t think that would happen. “Don’t worry, brother. Your playboy lifestyle won’t be disrupted.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
As he did every time, he knew I was right; he turned his head, his brow furrowed. “Fine. I’m a fuck-up. Just say it if that will make you feel any better.”
“You’re not a fuck-up. However, you need to make a choice. Either you want to help lead us into the next generation or you don’t. But once you commit either way, there will be changes made. Think carefully about your decision, brother.”
“Fine, big bro. I’ll get right on that.”
God, his arrogance irritated the hell out of me. He had the knack for picking the worst times to have a conversation about whatever was bothering him. “Remember what I said.” As I reached for the door, he grumbled under his breath. “What?”
“If Jonas had anything to do with this, we need to deal with it quickly or our reputation will take a hit.”
“Our reputation? Don’t you mean mine? Just like what happened to our father because I was stupid enough to fall in love with an elementary school teacher? Are you worried about your trust fund, brother?”
“That’s not what I meant. I know what you went through when she was killed. And I’m not worried about the money. We’re strong as a corporation and as a family. I’m worried about you.”
For the first time in as long as I could remember, I believed him. I rubbed my eyes, the tension I’d felt leading to a bitch of a headache behind my eyes. “The two situations are entirely different, but Whitney is in my life. Period.”
“Then I hope you can handle the aftermath if things go south.”
“I guess I’ll need to. Alone.”
Scowling, he said nothing, but I sensed he wanted to launch into me as he’d done before.
“You might not like my style of leadership, Stavros, but you’re required to follow my directions without question or hesitation. I’ll handle Jonas if necessary. But I’ll do it when the time is right and that’s not at this moment. Am I clear?”
“Oh, you’re clear, which you’ve always been. What bothers me is that since meeting that woman, you’re going soft.”
“Soft?” All I could do was laugh. I shoved my hands into my pockets, curtailing my anger. He was intentionally pushing me, trying to start a fight. He’d done that since the day he’d turned ten. “What’s really bothering you?”
He looked away, the light from outside barely reflecting his expression but I sensed he was holding something back. “I don’t like this. It’s too practiced. Someone took time to set us up, figuring out what would make us most vulnerable. Whoever it is knew that you’d come to Elena’s defense without thinking twice, allowing your anger to fuel your decisions.”
He was right.
“Agreed. Any thoughts?”
“Jonas. It must be.” Said a little too quickly, I had a feeling he was glossing over whatever he’d been mulling over for days. “I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
He didn’t want to know what I was thinking.
