Page 21 of His Wife

“What?” Her eyes find mine. “He’s not in love with me, Alexius.”

I’ve suspected it, and it’s crossed my mind a thousand times. But I hoped to be wrong because Isaia is my blood, and Leandra has become the one thing strong enough to make me break that brotherly bond without thinking twice.

“Nicoli is right.” I loosen my tie and unbutton my collar. “Isaia is—”

“—not in love with me. That’s absurd.”

Nicoli picks up Isaia’s dead cigarette off the ground and tosses it out a window. “All of us can see it. The way he looks at you.”

“We’re friends. That’s it.” Leandra reaches behind her ear, and I know I should stop her from scratching the scar, but I don’t. Jealousy is an ugly motherfucker that has the power to make you feel nothing else, and as I touch the tender flesh of my cheek, all I want to do is bash Isaia’s face in. I can practically see the jealousy and anger swell inside me, making me want to hurt my little brother in ways that would have my father turning in his grave.

Leandra wipes her palms down the front of her black dress, her cheeks pale and eyes worried. “Excuse me,” she mutters and starts up the stairs and disappears around the corner.

I rub my temple, feeling a headache coming on. “Any other day,” I mumble. “This could have happened any other fucking day, but no, it had to be today.”

“You know that’s how we roll, man. This family’s timing has always gone for shit.” Nicoli slips his hands into his pockets. “Never a dull fucking moment. You’ll have to ice that.” He gestures to my face.

“It’s not that bad. I need a drink.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Instead of going to the dining room or my office, I pull the gold key from my pocket, deciding today is a good day to open the bottle of Glenlivet whiskey my father kept in the Dark Sovereign meeting room.

Nicoli follows and closes the pocket door behind him, and I take the bottle from the glass cabinet.

“That’s the bottle our grandfather gave Dad. Are we finally opening it today?” Nicoli asks.

I brush my thumb across the label. “Dad always said he was waiting for the perfect day to open this. My guess is, today is that day.”

The seal cracks under my hand as I twist the cap, and I instantly smell its rich aroma of dark chocolate and sultanas. I inhale deeply, savoring it, thinking of all the times my dad held this bottle in his hand, saying he couldn’t wait to taste one of the most expensive whiskeys in the world. It crushes me thinking that he never got the chance to.

“Cheers,” Nicoli says as we clink glasses. “To Dad.”

“To Dad.” As the crystal rim touches my lips, I hesitate for a second before taking the first sip. The smooth liquid bursts onto my tongue with the taste. It’s a symphony of flavor, varied notes of spiced fruit and toasted nuts. It’s impossible not to savor it before swallowing its silky sweetness.

“Fuck me, that’s good.” Nicoli moans in appreciation.

“Our grandfather had taste. I’ll give him that.” I close my eyes, taking a second sip, loving the burn as it settles in my stomach, the alcohol easing tension from my muscles.

“So,” Nicoli starts. “Are you ready for this?”

“For what?”

He places his hand on the back of our father’s chair, tapping his finger on the black button-tufted fabric.

“I am. Dad made sure of it.”

“You think Caelian is ready?”

I shrug. “I think so. Dad used to think Caelian doesn’t give a fuck, but I disagree. It’s time for him to be a part of this. He’s changed a lot, grown more trustworthy, reliable...unlike Isaia.”

“Isaia has always been different,” Nicoli remarks, staring at the silver and gold DS symbol on our father’s chair. My chair. “I sometimes wonder if he’s made for this world.”

“He is,” I answer, moving toward the magnolia-colored curtains, staring out the window. “I think he resents the fact that he’s the youngest of four sons, and there are only three seats available at this table. You’ll take mine, and Caelian will take yours. God knows how long it will be before he gets his chance.”

“We could change that.” Nicoli’s tone dips lower. “You can change that.”

A sparrow lands on the outside windowsill, its feather shining under the sun, and I think back to the day my father told me I needed to take a wife. God, I was so fucking angry, unable even to fathom why he made such a ridiculous demand.

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