Page 127 of Sinful Bride

I hear Asya try to talk to him, but there’s no response from him. The front door opens, then closes, all but slamming shut behind him.

No words come to mind. Nothing I can say to comfort Asya, who I find standing next to the couch…

Terrified.

45

PASHA

“Well, well! What are you doing here?” Makari claps my shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be at home, enjoying marital bliss?”

“I need to work.”

“No, actually, you don’t. That’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah, well, now, I am, too.”

I know he means well, but I am in no mood for his jokes or games. Or anything other than scrubbing my mind clean of the things I overheard my mother say.

Better a premature weakling than a bastard child.

Mak catches onto my state of mind and sobers up. “Alright, then. If it’s work you want, it’s work you’ll get. Let’s get down to business. That shipment you ordered confirmed arrival for tomorrow…”

I follow him through the dock warehouse and try to focus on the details of the arrangements I ordered through him a few days ago, but I can’t concentrate to save my life.

… He always fears becoming his father. For so long, I’ve wanted to just tell him he shouldn’t fear it at all…

“Did we get clearance for the other two receiving docks?” I force myself to ask. To pretend I have my shit together, even if it only lasts a moment.

Mak nods. “No problems at either one, but I have a feeling the price is going to increase for future shipments.”

“Customs?”

“Bribes.”

“By how much?”

“A few hundred per piece,” he says with a shrug. “I could be wrong, though. It’s just the vibe I got when I confirmed the arrival times for tomorrow.”

“Figures.” I continue listening to him explain how inflation is driving numbers up, but our international connections agreed to a marginal percentage increase…

Arlo’s face catches my eye.

Or is it my face? A glimpse of what I’ll become, a few decades and a few heartbreaks down the road?

He’s talking to one of the dockmasters outside the office. He doesn’t see me, and that’s just as well. I’d rather he not notice the new way I’m looking at him, studying every tic and scar and feature.

Looking for proof that what my mother told Daphne is true.

“Yo, Pash.” Mak nudges my arm. “You good?”

“I, ah…” I need to be good. I need to focus on the smuggling and the numbers and keep a tight fist on all that entails.

But first, I need to clear my head.

“It sounds like you have everything under control,” I tell my brother. “Good work. I’ll catch up with you later.”

I do my best to walk—not run—across the pavement to the dockmaster’s office. I’m racking my brain to think of an excuse to dismiss the guy and drag Arlo in there for a talk, but the moment they both see me, I don’t need to say a word.

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