Page 30 of Blood Heir

I lift my head and stare at him. My eyes narrow, jaw tight. “Don’t you have a debtor to handle?”

Cassian’s grin widens. He throws up a lazy salute. “On my way, Boss.”

He pivots smoothly, his shoes clicking as he strolls toward the door, still chuckling under his breath. The door closes behind him with a soft click.

I lean back fully, eyes on the ceiling, hands clasped behind my head. The tension doesn't leave my chest.

She’s going to end me, huh?

Maybe.

^^^^

It’s nighttime.

The door creaks open, and Fioretta steps inside, barefoot, her frame small against the grand room but commanding it all the same. She wears an oversized, loose T-shirt that sways just past her thighs, the fabric soft and wrinkled, as if she pulled it on without much thought. Her hair sits piled on top of her head in a messy bun, a few strands curling loose around her face. She looks bored. But beneath it, sharp. Watching everything.

She drops into the chair across from me like she owns it.

“You asked me here.” Her voice is dry, not impatient exactly, but clipped. “If it’s because of your mistress, she started it.”

I let her words hang for a breath, my hands resting lightly on the desk.

“Emilia isn’t my mistress,” I answered calmly. “She’s your cousin. She’s a friend. She’s here because you wanted to keep her safe after she lost her father.”

Her brow arches. The corner of her mouth twitches, not quite a smile. “Did I?” She hums, glancing off to the side, voice soft but laced with something bitter. “Wow. I was a dull one.”

I exhale through my nose. This is not why I called her in. My fingers tap once against the folder resting on my desk.

“I didn’t call you because of Emilia,” I say. “I need you to give your signature to something.”

She tilts her head slightly, eyes narrowing, studying me. “What are these things you speak of?”

Our gazes hold, her tone mocking but curious. I watch the small shift in her posture, the way her legs cross lazily, her fingertips drumming against the armrest, as if daring me to explain.

I nod toward the couch near the window. “It’ll be more comfortable there.”

She rises from the chair with that lazy grace, her bare legs stretching as she strolls to the couch. The oversized t-shirt shifts against her frame with every step. She folds herself into the corner of the couch, tucking one leg under the other, arms resting across her lap. Eyes on me. Waiting.

I pick up the folder and join her, sitting across from her on the low table. I set the thick stack of documents between us, flipping it open.

“These aren’t just random papers,” I begin, voice even. “These are ownership deeds. Authorizations. Maritime control permits. They’re yours.”

She leans forward slightly, studying the first page. Her name sits printed in heavy ink. Fioretta Celeste D’Angelis.

“You own the routes along the southern ports. Three shipping docks. The paperwork transferred when your father passed.” I flip to the next page, tapping it with my finger. “You inherited them directly. His lands, his trade routes—everything attached to D’Angelis territory fell into your hands.”

Her brows furrow, but she nods as she absorbs it. “Ports, docks…” she repeats, almost testing the words on her tongue.

“The family has long controlled more than cargo.” My voice drops lower, steady. “Through these routes move more than imports and exports. We run weapons, pharmaceuticals, currency…drugs.”

Her lips press together, but she nods again, gaze sharp.

“Your father’s position in this syndicate was secured because he controlled reliable maritime lanes. Those lanes feed into our larger network—my consortium—and keep our operations stable. But these docks remain legally under your name. My men facilitate the movement, but no large shipment leaves without your approval.”

I turn another page, showing her a detailed map now—colored routes stretching across ocean channels, through city ports, branching like veins inland.

She studies it closely, her head tilting slightly. “These channels are already crowded,” she says suddenly, voice thoughtful. “Why don’t you approve these ones?” She taps at a cluster of routes marked inland, pushing further into the desert zone rather than the existing coastal paths.

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