Page 111 of The Boss

“Davit’s father was doing just fine three months ago. He was photographed at a restaurant and to me, he looked quite healthy.”

“Illnesses, especially in a man of his age can come on quickly.”

“I don’t buy it.” I turned toward him. “See if any of your artist friends know anything.” I’d known the older man was very fond of the artistic community, spending a good deal of his wealth on paintings and sculptures. He was also known to frequent gallery showings all throughout Europe. Since my brother was friendly with several prominent painters, it was a good bet someone knew something about his health issues.

Christos lifted his eyebrows. “You don’t trust him.”

“Not with my life. No.”

“Then I’ll make a few calls. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll make that happen prior to leaving. I’m not certain I can stand to watch anyone pretending to give a damn.”

“Go for it.” Our business had been forged in blood, sweat, and tears until only ten years before. It was becoming apparent to me that abandoning our former methods wasn’t in our best interest.

Around Willow, I was an entirely different man, someone who embodied the same family values my parents had instilled, and in business I was a relentless powerhouse, strong in acumen when dealing with contracts and deals.

But right now, it was time to unearth the man I’d been brought up to be.

Ruthless.

Brutal.

And unforgiving.

While my father had insisted peace was far more appealing than bloodshed, I was beginning to believe otherwise.

Someone was after my family. That someone needed to die. There was no other way of handling the situation.

As Davit made his way toward me, I took a few seconds to button my jacket. Looking the part of the boss was just as important as being one. His men hung back, allowing him to approach by himself.

The Armenian didn’t offer his condolences for a second time, merely standing by my side in observing the priest begin the graveside ceremony. We stood in silence, the light pattering of rain and my mother’s sobs the only sounds.

“Truly loving a woman is a weakness. Don’t you agree?” His question had interesting timing.

“There are many weaknesses, Davit. Everyone has something that could be used against them. In my experience, those who try and hide their proclivities are the ones most likely to face their own demise.”

“Very astute, but love is the most intolerable weakness of all. Men with the greatest power need heirs, but that’s why arranged marriages are useful. I learned a long time ago from dear friends that true love could be used as an excellent weapon. However, you’re not the kind of man to fall prey to anything more than a brief carnal need. I admire you for that.”

His veiled threat fascinated me, the audacity of doing so at this moment indicating he felt confident in his ability to best my family.

Fat. Fucking. Chance.

I chuckled given his near riddle-like statement. “We all have weapons to use when necessary. It’s right timing that counts the most.”

“Yes, you’re right.” He turned to face me, extending his hand. “I thought I’d congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials. Willow will make a blushing bride.”

If the man had intended on raising my hackles, he’d failed, yet one of the first things I’d learned as a young adult was how to remain expressionless. It was also an excellent weapon.

It was obvious the news had already gotten out.

I would pat my father on the back later. Even in his grief, he was still a powerful leader.

The stage had been set. It was now up to the Stalker to snag the cheese in the mousetrap.

He would. I felt it in my bones.

“Yes, she will.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few phone calls to make.” Davit studied me for a few seconds. My guess was he was attempting to determine if I was riled by everything that had occurred.

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