Page 64 of The Savage Heir

NICU

Seven. Fucking. Days.

Seven days since I left Jewel and my life in New York. Wearily, I sank deeper into the overstuffed armchair in the airless library of the Hagi house, brooding while my fingers impatiently tapped away. The space might be vast, but it was stuffed to the gills with furniture and tchotchkes. For a distinguished house in the hills, just above Sunset Boulevard with a sweeping view of the city, they crammed their house like it was the Grand Bazaar of Istanbul.

The urge to text Jewel drove me hard, but I pushed it down. Using the tracker on her phone, I kept tabs on her as she moved around the city. It came as a surprise that she hadn’t disabled it, giving me a degree of hope. I wanted to reach out to her, but the truth was that, for the first time in my life, I was afraid. Unable to see her expression or pull her into my chest and hug her close if we got into an argument over text, it could quickly degenerate into something ugly. As desperate as I was to reach out, I couldn’t risk her breaking up with me over text. She’d left me a voicemail, and I replayed it incessantly, but again, I was afraid to return her phone call for fear we’d get into it. The only way to do this was when we saw each other. So instead of reaching out, I hunkered down and waited out my punishment.

Stuck in this stifling library counted as punishment enough. I’d been forced to listen to Tatum and Princess Clara, as we’d dubbed her, go at it for hours. How did they have the stamina for this? As if I needed a reminder of how much I missed Jewel, watching Clara in action clinched it. She was like a rabid pit bull. Even at her most infuriating, my woman was nothing like this. She pushed my limits and tested me like no one else, but in the best of ways.

A week had already passed since I arrived, and we were getting nowhere fast. The Hagi ?ef, Boian, looked like an old grizzly warrior, which was fitting since it matched the meaning of his name. He seemed amenable to negotiation, but anytime we started getting somewhere, Clara inevitably derailed us.

Infuriated, Tatum would jump in, and the both of them would debate, haggle, and argue for hours until either Sebastian or I ended the meeting. It was like dealing with squabbling children. I’d never seen Tatum in such a state. In spite of their incessant bickering, I sensed an undercurrent between them. We’d be better off if they blew off some steam in the bedroom before returning to the bargaining table.

Interrupting Tatum in the middle of what oddly sounded like a rant, I put my hand up and ordered, “Stand down, Tatum. Go take a break.”

His mouth was agape, but he snapped it shut midphrase, stood up, and stomped outside.

It wasn’t particularly polite of me, but I needed a moment, and I wasn’t going to get that with him rattling on. The frustration wafted off him regardless of how much restraint he was exerting to suppress it in front of the Hagis.

Unfortunately, we were at an impasse because the Hagi family had a choke hold on the rest of the clans in and around Los Angeles. Tatum and Sebastian had spent the better part of two weeks finagling them into working with us, but the Hagi had something over on each of them. Either that, or the families remained loyal to the Hagi because they came from the same small city of Suceava, in the region of Bukovina, in northeastern Romania. It was the birthplace of an old medieval civilization, and the people were known to be proud to the extreme. It was as close to being blood related as one could get. I had to hand it to the Hagi. For a small clan, they were tenacious. Much like Clara.

Time was ticking. I had to get back to Jewel before I lost my shit. Meanwhile, Tatum was determined to win and was willing to stay here as long as necessary to succeed. He was determined to either outwit Clara or wear her down. Or both. After watching the dynamics within the Hagi family, I’d concluded that the problem whittled down to a seemingly passive, yet crucial player: Simu’s uncle, Grigore. Whenever Clara was about to relent, Grigore swept in and bolstered her resolve.

If I had any hope of getting back to Jewel, I had to think outside the box. As Tasa had suggested during our telephone call, I had to think like Alex. Like a strategist. What would Alex do? He’d analyze the players and seek out their weaknesses. Grigore was behind Clara’s obstinacy. Until they were separated, we’d never get anywhere. And worse still, if something didn’t break soon, this could devolve into violence.

Even if the Grigore problem was eliminated, the crux of the issue was that Clara didn’t trust us. We were a big, ostentatious, and powerful clan. We weren’t from Suceava or the region of Bukovina, and we’d killed Simu. Even though she knew we were completely within our rights, she was emotionally conflicted. Whenever she had a moment of levelheadedness, Grigore came up from behind and egged her back into irrationality.

The solution popped into my head. First, we needed to separate them, no matter the cost. Second, we needed to give her a chance to get to know us and to give us a chance to woo her. Sure, we were an ambitious and bloodthirsty bunch, but no more than her or any other mafie family. On the other hand, we weren’t that bad. Hell, we were the most powerful family in North America. We could be charming, when we wanted to.

“God, he’s unbearable,” Clara grumbled once the door swung shut. Jabbing a thumb at the door, she asked, “Is he always like that?”

“Never,” Sebastian replied succinctly.

“You must bring it out of him,” I quipped.

Her eyes narrowed on me.

Holding my hands up in a gesture of surrender, I said, “Relax, it was a joke.”

Her tense shoulders sagged. She had bags under her round blue eyes. This was straining on her as well. She was attractive and would be more so if she gave herself a break from her standing bitch mode.

Focusing solely on her, I jerked my head toward Grigore, and said, “Let’s make it even and have one less person here.”

Grigore wheezed as if I’d just punched him in the gut, which wasn’t far from what I wanted to do.

“What?” he spluttered.

Focusing solely on Clara, I held her gaze and said, “I have a proposition, but I’m not into exercises in futility. I need the two most toxic people out of the room before I introduce it to you.” I raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Do you agree?”

Tatum was the farthest from toxic a person could get, but whatever. It was a small but necessary lie to make Clara kick Grigore out. Her gaze slid over to Grigore, who looked like he was about to have a stroke.

Before she had a chance to answer, the Hagi ?ef surprised us all by flicking his fingers at Grigore, an order for him to leave.

Huh, I might have an ally on my side.

For whatever reason, Boian allowed his daughter an incredible amount of power. It reminded me of a ?ef loosening the leash on his heir to gain experience before handing over the crown. But the notion that a ?ef would turn his empire over to a daughter was preposterous. Perhaps he was about as done with these failed negotiations as I was.

The corners of Clara’s Cupid’s bow lips drooped into a frown, but surprisingly, she did not contradict her father.

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