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I raise an eyebrow. “Does your future wife know your friends sleep over?”
Exhaling through his nose, he stalks to an open-plan kitchen. “It’s my home. I can do as I please.”
“Until you’re married,” I say, following him with a narrowed gaze.
“As I said, it’s nothing.” He takes a mug from the cupboard and slams it on the counter. “Not that my private life is anyone’s business.”
“Is someone growing a backbone?” I taunt. “Or are you simply learning from your father’s example?”
Pressing his palms on the counter, he says, “My father is a single man. He can do what he likes.”
I suppress the urge to teach him a lesson with my fists. That’s not why I’m here. I remind myself of that fact as I carefully push my irritation down. “Be careful, Toma. You have a duty to this family and an image to uphold.”
He takes a tea capsule from a silver bowl shaped like a fish and pops it in an espresso machine. “I won’t forget.”
“Good.” I measure him. “How’s the job going?”
“You mean guarding your wife?” A tinge of resentment slips into his tone. “Fine, I guess.”
“You guess?” My voice is soft. Dangerous. “You either know or you don’t know, but you don’t fucking guess.”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he gives me a sidelong glance. “Fine.”
I watch him with the attention of a hawk. “What has she been up to?”
“Not much.” Gripping the sink, he locks his arms, dips his head, and wipes his brow on his forearm. “Her movements are pretty much predictable.”
“Are they?”
He doesn’t meet my gaze. “Like the reports say, she goes for walks during the day, but that’s it.” Chancing a look at me, he asks, “Why? Did something happen?”
I cross my arms. “I was just wondering.”
He presses the button on the machine. When the noise stops, he says, “You’ve seen our reports.”
“Reports don’t always state everything.”
“Like what?” He turns around and leans his ass against the sink. “Are you implying I’m hiding something?”
“Are you?”
“No.” He bats his eyelashes. “Of course not, Angelo. Why would you think that?”
I shrug. “Some people express themselves better with words. Writing has never been your forte.”
“I just told you. Nothing is going on down there.”
Like his father, he believes I don’t know about Sophie. If he’s been where he was supposed to be, doing what he was supposed to be doing, he should know. And like his father, he’s choosing not to tell me. I don’t know why, but I’ll find out.
I close the distance and stop in front of him. “I hope so for your sake, cousin, because if I find out you lied to me about my wife, I’ll slit your throat.”
He blanches. We stare at each other for a beat, the silence thick in the aftermath of my threat. Everyone knows my warnings are never idle. Especially my family. Toma hasn’t witnessed me executing a traitor or taking the life of an enemy yet. He hasn’t seen that part of me firsthand, but I have no doubt his father is colorful in his descriptions.
When the silence has stretched long enough, I ask, “Are we clear, cousin?”
“Yes,” he says, the word coming out as a squeak.
“Good.” I slap him on the shoulder, making him stumble sideways. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”
