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I do as he asks, purely because I respect any man who can put up withher.
"What was in the package?” He regards me with shrewd suspicion, eyes narrowed, and shoulders curled forward.
I lean an arm over the back of the dining chair and slouch in the seat. "An offer and a threat."
Marco eases back slowly. “Tell me about the offer first.”
“I received a bid for the Plymouth Street lot through a lawyer acting on behalf of the buyer. I figured it was Terry attempting to buy us out and create his corridor early on, but they used my birth name on the documents, Marco. Whoever he’s working with wants me to know they have motivation for me to accept. My birth name is shit only you, my family, and her”—I point in the direction Charlene left—“know."
Marco's full lips split into an amused grin. "You want to know which birdie sang.” Fucker really is too handsome for his own good. But I guess careful selection throughout multiple mafia generations will do that. He may be the unwanted second cousin of the country's top Don, but he still comes from the same bloodlines.
“This shadow company of Terry’s has already made purchases interstate. Failing businesses that received a cash injection in trade for the land they reside on.” I narrow my gaze. “Sounds a lot like somethin’ you’d do.”
“It does, doesn’t it.” He draws a deep breath.
"I thought we'd reached a mutual understanding.” He got my wife. I got free rein of the state.
Hence why they moved across the border.
Marco huffs a laugh, reaching for his tiny espresso cup. "I'd say my end of that bargain was rigged, wouldn't you?"
"Not my issue if you don't research your deals properly." I study the fuck for any tells. Any signhe’sthe one who spilled my goddamn secret for a measly pay-off.
Motherfucker thought he had my number when he stole my wife. Our rivalry reached a blood-letting fever pitch before he made a move. Looks being what they are, he figured when the money trail ended at my marriage that Charlene must have been the one who came from generational wealth.
He picked wrong.
A fact that somebody now exploits. And I want to know why.
"If I shared your secret with anyone, you do realize what that would do, don't you?" Marco sets the empty cup back on the table. "I'd look like a fool for taking Charlene from you. Why would I do that? Paint myself in such a shameful light?"
"Sometimes the benefits outweigh the consequences."
Another disparaged huff. "Do I look as though I need to benefit from anyone?"
I glance around at the cavernous room. "Isn’t that how you got this place? By capitalizing on other people's moment of weakness?"
"Making the most of an opportunity is vastly different than accepting charity, Tyke. You, of all people, should know that."
I do. Which is why I hate that some anonymous fucker wants to make me appear the ultimate charity case. I didn't distance myself from my origins for shits and giggles. I did it to be my own man. To carve my own path. To prove my way through hard work and sacrifice.
To satisfy a political agenda.
"Have you considered that the leak didn't come from your side?" Marco absently scratches a naked pec.
I note the new ink covering my ex-wife's name. "Why threaten me, though, if it was her people who gave the secret away?"
"Perhaps because whoever this is has decided you're more likely to give in than your mother."
My mother. Marco never said her name, and yet the same creeping disgust inches up my throat. Voicing our connection is bad enough. I almost vomit every time I see her face on the goddamn news, which is why I stopped watching it years ago. "Well, they guessed wrong." I jerk forward, setting elbows to knees, and stare at the table before me.
The brief urge to smash my face against the hard edge flits across my conscious mind.
"What are they threatening to do if you don’t accept the offer?” Marco pushes his chair back and rises from the table. He scoops up his empty cup and the paper, binning the latter on his way to dispose of the former. "Given the lengths the woman went to disown you at birth, I think you could have confidence that her team would shoot down any ugly allegations that made their way public."
"Depends on the timing." Bottom lip pinched between my teeth, I lean back from the table before impulse has me follow through on the intrusive thought. "If they broadcast the story at election time, filtering down to specific details, it could be a scandal worth pursuing despite the threat of legal action for some news channels."
He waves a hand through the air. "Trust me when I say the general public tires fast of affairs and petty crime."
