Page 26 of Hidden Heir

“I trust them,” I calmly reply.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he says, moving to sit on a stool at the island. “Get me some coffee.”

I oblige, abandoning the meal and turning to the coffee maker instead. “Next time I will stay until the last body has been inspected, approved, and ready to go.”

“Good choice. You cannot afford to look weak or distracted, not right now. This deal we are trying to secure with the Italians is difficult enough.”

“It’s difficult because they don’t approve that we’re in the skin trade,” I point out, activating the coffee bean grinder. “I don’t think they care about how timely my schedule is.”

“Of course they care,” my father snaps. “They care because despite their distaste for our business, they still use our prostitutes. It is in their best interest to work with us on their weapons trade.”

“I know that” I reply, a slight pulse of frustration leaking into my tone. “This was my deal to begin with, remember? I followed the connections and got this arrangement on the table. For over a year, I’ve been greasing their palms, making sure they have everything they could ever desire. You need to trust me.”

“I do trust you.” My father takes his coffee when I offer him the steaming mug. “But I need you focused, son. Not distracted by some random woman that turns up at your door with a child. I do not care what her story is, I do not care what brought her here. She is an outsider and she cannot be trusted.”

I nod my head in agreement, but that’s not the truth that’s in my heart. She’s not some random woman. She is so much more than that to me, and every second I’m with her feeds into that desire. I want to see her smile, hear her laugh, and taste those plush lips again and again. I want to skin the man who hurt andscared her, I want her brother punished for daring to shoot up with a child in his care.

“I can do both,” I say, seating myself next to him. “She isn’t a distraction. She’s a friend and she needs help. You said yourself that it pays to have friends. Some of our strongest connections come from helping others. Good karma can’t be overlooked.”

Deep down, I know it’s pointless to try to persuade my father that I know what I’m doing. He trusts me only so far, as he does in all aspects of life, and I know he has trouble letting go of the family business. In a way, it’s his child, despite my existence. He is on edge, waiting for the empire to fall, and each day I strive to show him that I know what I’m doing, that our legacy is safe in my hands. Brooke’s presence isn’t going to change that.

But from the way my father drains his mug and sets it down, I can tell he’s already made up his mind. A cold shiver crawls down my spine as he stands and leans on his cane.

“No distractions,” he says flatly before turning away. I watch him walk toward the door, an influx of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Anger and irritation come first, then disappointment.

I want Brooke. But my family is my family and my father’s trust is not to be played with.

“But—”

“Get rid of her,” he snaps as he reaches the doorway. “Or I will.”

12

BROOKE

Leon was distant for the next few days, but after the visit from his father, I don’t blame him. It gives me a chance to help Tiffany settle into this strange new place, catch up on sleep, and try to plan what comes next. All of that happens under the watchful eye of Rik, who seemingly refuses to leave my side.

I finally get to go and see my brother after being kept apart while he received medical treatment. Rik guides me to his location without saying a word. In the beginning, it was intimidating, but for some reason, Tiff enjoys his company so I’m slowly relaxing into it.

As we reach the top of the stairs, I hear yelling coming from the other side of the door. A woman, looking all sorts of pissed off, strides out muttering something about how impossible he is then takes off down the stairs without looking back.

Rik and I exchange a glance, then he nods toward the half-open door. “Your brother is in there. Do you want to see him?”

It’s not even a question. I charge through the open door with Tiff in my arms to find Ant grappling with a much taller, much larger man. The man easily shoves Ant away, and whenhe launches himself forward once more, the guard effortlessly shoves him again. Ant makes eye contact with me as he stumbles, the angry expression melting from his face.

“Brooke! Oh my god, I was so worried about you!” He steps toward me, a happy expression on his face.

Ant’s room is more like a small apartment, with a small living room, a dining area adjacent to that, and an ensuite bedroom.

I set Tiffany down and straighten up. I guide her toward a small table in the adjacent room where a pad of paper and coloring pencils rest, encouraging her to entertain herself. Then, I walk back to Ant and slap him across the face as hard as I can. He reels back in shock and clutches his cheek. The guard leaves and Rik stands in front of the door to the dining area, blocking Tiffany’s view, giving us a little privacy.

“What the hell?” Ant says with tears in his eyes. “Why did you hit me?”

“Why?” I snap. I shove at him, pushing him farther away from Tiff’s earshot. “Why were you fighting that guard, huh?”

“Because I was worried about you!”

“Don’t bullshit me. Were you asking him for drugs?”

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