Page 42 of Beauty and the Daddy
"Can't a guy visit his favorite brother without an agenda?" He drops into my chair, putting his feet up on my desk.
His thousand-dollar shoes leave dirt on my contracts.
"You're my only brother," I remind him. "And you always have an agenda."
He grins, all teeth and no warmth. "You wound me, Luca. Truly."
I lean against the window, arms crossed. "Spit it out. I've got work to do."
"The Council's buzzing about your... engagement."
Of course they are. The five old men who run our world from their villas in Italy love nothing more than gossip and meddling in our affairs.
"They can buzz all they want," I say. "It's my business."
"Is it, though?" Declan looks skeptical. "When the Don of the Moretti family decides to marry some nobody whose daddy sells cheap furniture, it becomes everyone's business."
My jaw tightens. "Watch yourself."
"I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." He shrugs, unrepentant. "They want you to marry for power… furniture girl isn't who they meant."
"Like who? Another Don's daughter?" I scoff. "I'm not making a business merger here. I'm looking for a woman to mother my kid."
"How romantic." He chuckles like I'm the one being unreasonable. "What happens when she sees what you really do and gets afraid? She runs… with all your secrets."
"She knows enough."
Declan laughs. "Does she? Because from where I'm standing, she looks like a lamb who wandered into a den of wolves. And we both know what happens to lambs."
"Say one more word, and you won't have teeth to go home with," I hiss.
"Whoa, easy tiger." Declan holds up his hands. "I'm not the one you need to worry about. It's the Council. They're old-school, remember? They think marriages should strengthen the family, not weaken it."
Something's off. His smile runs too wide; his eyes glitter like he's already spent money he hasn't got.
Either he's hiding a problem or he is one.
"She doesn't weaken anything."
"Maybe not, but I can line up five girls by Friday who'll make Nonna cry and the Council clap. Pretty. Polished. No… surprises."
"Pretty and polished," I say, "come with their own surprises. Usually prearmed."
He laughs again. "Fine. If you're set on the clown parade, I won't stop you. But you need to make the Council comfortable. And right now, they're not."
"They can get comfortable or they can get lost."
He tuts. "We both know that's not an option."
We do.
I hate that we do.
He leans on the desk. "Give me something. Why the rush? Why her. Why now. I'll carry water for you, but I need a bucket."
It's nothing. It's everything.
It's his eyes that flicker with hunger dressed as brotherly concern. It's the Council, fat lions with claws, smelling rain and deciding it's blood.
