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I sigh. “And how do you suggest we do that?”
44
Declan
"Nikolai Solonik. He’s responsible for this?" Cade holds up his phone. He’s referring, not to the fact that a photo of Solene slapping me is all over the internet, but the fact that she's pissed with me. As for the slap? I deserved it. If only, I’d managed to stop the picture from getting out, though. I took down the drone, but that didn't make a difference.
"Niko Solonik, the head of the Bratva? How are you involved with him?" a new voice asks.
I turn in the direction of the doorway, then groan when JJ Kane swaggers in. He used to head up an organized crime group—perhaps, he still does, though he claims to have legalized his businesses—so, no surprise he knows Nikolai. As if that’s not bad enough, he’s followed by Sinclair Sterling, the CEO of 7A Investments, the leading financial services firm in the country, and Michael Sovrano, the ex-head of the Cosa Nostra, now the CEO of CN Enterprises—which is still suspected of maintaining its links with the Mafia, though no one can prove it. Together, the three of them have formed an alliance, a result of Sinclair and Michael’s wives being sisters. And JJ? Well, JJ likes to be the man about town. He loves playing the large-hearted, older statesman who’s seen life—and who fell in love and married a woman less than half his age—and who loves to give advice, especially on matters of the heart. As do Sinclair and Michael, since they are happily married and have also spawned offspring. Apparently, this makes them uniquely suited to counsel the rest of us unmarried folk, or so they’d like to have us believe. I know, it's a lot.
"Okay, that’s it. I’m not waiting around for you three to have a go at me next. I’ve heard enough of how you counseled Cade as he struggled through his romance with Abby—"
"And look at him, happily married now," JJ says in a sage tone.
"You mean, he’s joined the ball and chain club the rest of you have taken membership in, but which I’m not interested in, especially not when I need to give my full attention to my career." I rise to my feet, when JJ closes the distance to my chair.
He grabs my shoulder and pushes me down. "Sit down, boy."
"I’m not your son who you can boss around. Oh, sorry, you can’t boss him around, either, given you ended up marrying his girlfriend." I smirk. "Awkward."
JJ sets his jaw. A nerve pops at his temple. For a second, I’m sure he’s going to lose his temper, but then he seems to get a hold of himself. "You’re fighting back. Good. You need to channel some of that aggression toward fighting for your woman."
"She’s not my—"
"Not your woman. Is that what you’re going to say?" Sinclair asks in a voice that’s pleasant, but which hints at the cold ruthlessness he’s well known for in boardroom circles, or so I’ve heard from my brother Arpad, who’s one of Sinclair’s friends and partners in 7A.
"What’s it to you anyway?" I jut out my chin.
"I think the question to be asked is, Why is Nikolai Solonik involved in your life in any form?" Michael Sovrano’s hard voice hangs in the air like a black cloud intent on pissing all over my life.
A-n-d, there you have it. Trust the ex-Don of the Cosa Nostra to get to the crux of the matter. Guess it takes a Mafia guy with the spirit of the Cosa Nostra running through the veins of his ancestors to suss out the problem here.
I shake off JJ’s hold and spring to my feet. "I did not ask the lot of you to intervene, so back the fuck off."
"Aha, so it’s not as out-of-your hands as you make it out to be, then." JJ looks me up and down. "What did you barter with him, you motherfucker?"
I feel the blood drain from my face. "The fuck you mean?"
"You struck a deal with him. It’s the only reason he asked you for what he did. Given what we saw earlier, with your woman—"
"Not my woman,"anymore, I growl.
"—running out with tears streaming down her cheeks, it seems to have cost you dearly."
My heart pounds into my ribcage. The veins swell at my temples. Anger coils in my guts until it feels like I’ve swallowed a volcano that’s bubbling and sizzling and threatening to blow at any time. I stalk toward the doorway but Cade—the traitor—is already there, blocking my way. He slams the door shut and leans against it. "You going to answer the question?" he asks softly.
"How much clearer do I have to be? It’s none of your damn business," I snap.
"Afraid it is, ol’ chap." Cade folds his arms across his chest. "You’re a friend, the closest I have to a brother, other than Knight. I can’t let you screw up your life, much as you seem to be hellbent on doing so."
The anger rears forward. The acidic notes of rage, combined with the blinding sense that I’ve fucked things up beyond belief envelops my senses. I ball my fingers into fists, then throw them up.
Cade lowers his hands to his sides. He rolls his shoulders. "You going to fight me on this, bro?"
My chest rises and falls, and my pulse thuds at my temples, behind my eyeballs, deep in my chest—where my heart once resided but which is now just an empty cavity because she took it with her. She’s gone. And I can’t change it. I’ve lost her, and it’s all my fault. The realization crashes into my chest like a sledgehammer. The breath whooshes out of me. Just like that, the fight drains out of me, and I just want to curl into a ball and die.
"Fucking fuck." I hang my head. "She’s too good for me. It’s only right she walked out on me."
