Page 33 of The Shadow King's Brother

“Yeah?” I force a smile, ignoring the jab, the little dig. “She does this thing with her fists, clenching them. Like she’s strong,” my mother says, a chuckle bubbling up.

Since when does she chuckle?

“Oh yes?” I say, mirroring her tone. “Well, she’s getting ready to fight all the bad guys.”

Maria is quiet for a beat, then smoothly switches the subject.

“When are you coming to visit her? You sound tired.”

“Soon,” I sigh, not wanting to go there right now. “Tell her–hi from me, okay?”

“Sure.”

I hang up, leaving the familiar knot in my stomach.

I glance at Nica, gauging how much she’d overheard, but her head is already bent over a message.

“Who’s that?” I ask, careful to keep my tone casual.

She glances at her phone, a flicker of something I can’t decipher – anxiety? Resentment? – across her face.

“It’s my mother… She wants to meet,” she says, her voice clipped. I hold back my questions.Why?

“Will you meet her?” I ask, a wish to fix it for her stirring inside me.

“Maybe later—” she replies, her gaze drifting out the window.

I let the silence settle, knowing the walls she’s erected around this topic. She always pulls away when her mother is involved.

I wish she would trust me more. I don’t like to admit it, but it’s like tiny daggers to my heart when she doesn’t let me in.

* * *

We finally arriveat the office, deciding not to share Vinny’s sudden appearance with Uncle Tuvio just yet. The clatter of keyboards and the low murmur of voices do little to calm me down.

Fiona greets us with a crips, “good morning.”

Her sleek, blonde hair is arranged in a high bun, as sharp and controlled as a blade. Her outfit is a mix of grays and blues, she missteps on the smooth marble floor, but quickly recovers. I chuckle briefly, earning me a stern look from her ice-blue eyes.

“Don’t mess with her,” Nica murmurs, her elbow digging into my side with a playful warning.

“Right,” I reply, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and step into my office.

“Elio! Victoria!” Tuvio is already at the meeting table, a mountain of a man overflowing his chair. He rises, his movements surprisingly light, and pulls us in for a series of big, engulfing hugs.

“Tuvio,” I grunt between embraces, “Morning then.”

I’m not big on physical contact, except from Elio, but I give in.

He settles back across the table, his belly pressing against the edge. He’s already snacking on a plate of pastries. The sweet smell of cinnamon and sugar reaches my nostrils. A warm, steaming cup of coffee rests beside him, undoubtedly brought by Fiona. The white powder of the sugar dusts the upper part of his light-blue suit, clinging to his chin like freshly fallen snow.

“Uncle Tuvio,” Nica says, “you got a little something on your face there—”

She gestures towards his chin and lets out a soft chuckle, taking her seat.

“What, where?” He replies, his voice slightly flustered, and desperately brushes at his cheeks, never quite reaching the sugar coating him.

“Never mind,” she says, settling into her chair.

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