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He has little to nothing to do with one brother and is estranged entirely from the other.
This business he is so intent on claiming decimates his life into nothing but long hours and stress. He’s just too blind to see it.
“You’ve been avoiding my calls.”
I don’t deny him, nodding softly at his accusation.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
His phone rings, and he ignores it, watching the device on his desk vibrate against the black glass. It stops, and he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “My father had many stipulations written into his will.”
I hold back my sigh but inhale deeply. “He did.”
“These stipulations.” He turns his whiskey glass in his hand, watching the way the amber liquid coats the crystal. “Fuck with all of us.”
I don’t speak, and that grabs his attention enough to stare.
“You don’t agree?”
I lift a single shoulder. “Not entirely.”
His brows lift high enough that they disappear into the hair that has fallen over his forehead. “Jesus, Alessia. You can’t be fucking serious. He gave youmyfucking business for some fairy tale bullshit about me falling in love. This isn’t a fucking Disney movie; it’s my life.”
“I know.”
“You know? So you know it’s stupid.”
“It’s stupid to you. It wasn’t to your father.”
“Caleb and Callum have to agree with me. I’m certain whatever ridiculous terms and conditions he set out for them has them scratching their heads.”
I tilt my head. “You haven’t spoken to them?”
“Why would I?”
“Because they’re your brothers.”
“Blood doesn’t make a family, Alessia. Sometimes, blood is what teaches what a family should never be. You know that better than anyone.”
I scowl.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, the apology more exasperated than remorseful.
“I think you did,” I combat. “I think you used something you were told in confidence by your father, against my wishes, against me.”
He rubs a hand down his face. “My brothers and I fell out a long time ago, Alessia. The catalyst was what Charles did after our mother’s death. His demise isn’t going to reconnect us. If anything, it solidifies the fact that we have no common ground anymore.”
I feel sad for him. Salvatore is my greatest ally in life. CJ and his brothers should feel that, too. Instead, they let old wounds fester and continue to poison something special.
I sip my drink.
“I want you to marry me,” he announces unexpectedly.
I hold my whiskey in my mouth, afraid I'll choke on it if I attempt to swallow.
“It makes sense,” he implores. “With our union, the Lincoln and outfit connection remains secure. I’ll be married in line with my father’s wishes. We both win.”
