Page 65 of The Tallest Tower (Underbelly Enchanted)

“I enjoy my time with you.” He extends his hand when Micah merely hovers, gestures toward the chair on my right, and nods when my brother sits down. “We covered the pleasantries already today. Please, make yourself comfortable.” He brings his smiling eyes to me. “I trust our mutual friends have remained healthy since we last spoke.”

I snort and bring my right foot up to rest on my knee. “Doctor Mayet is making her rounds and grudgingly ensuring we’re all healthy.My brothers are well. I’ve yet to speak to Ms. Mancino today, though I know you do on a regular basis, so I’ll trust she’s fine.”

He inclines his chin in confirmation. “She is well, as is her sister.” Then lifting his head again, he stares into my eyes. “What brings you here, Felix?”

“Emilio Pastore.” His name alone makes my blood hotter. The way he hurt Micah long ago sealed his fate. The only reason that bastard is alive today is because Cordoza doesn’t want a mess made. “He’s interfering with my business. Men are under contract with my family. We have agreements in place. Payment plans arranged. Then Pastore slides in and tells them their debt is forgiven and to not worry.”

His brows shoot high. “Pardoning the debts owed to you seems uncharacteristically generous of him. Did you approve of his involvement in your business?”

“No. And nothing was communicated with me until today. In fact, Pastore and I do not communicate at all. Ever. I felt it was best for everyone that I give him a wide berth, stay on my side of the city, and let him get on with his life.”

“Which is the advice I would have given you. Had you asked.”

“Yes.” I pat my breast pocket in search of a cigarette; a habit I indulge when I’m working. Not one I enjoy in my home.

Though, I know better than to disrespect Estefan Cordoza and light up inside his office. So I drop my hand again and exhale.

“I went to my client to discuss why payment was not made. He explained Pastore’s nonsense.” I look deep into Cordoza’s wise eyes and grit out, “He’s going to get people killed if he continues to interfere with my family. A man is already missing a couple of teeth and nursing a broken hand today because of him. I’d like for things not to escalate.”

“You want me to talk to him?” He steeples his fingers and rests them beneath his chin. “You wish for me to pass on a message?”

“I want to honoryourwishes of no blood dirtying your city streets.” I reach into my pocket when my phone trills and instantly hit the button on the side to silence the ringtone. “I was bred for battle, Mr. Cordoza. But I do not choose that route if there is a better way. If all it takes to avoid war is a word from you to the dipshit with peanuts for brains, then I figure it may be the right thing to do. Speak to him before I do,and the outcome of him meddling with my income will surely be cleaner.”

He considers us for a beat, his expression serious. Though his curiosity piques, his brows slowly rising, when my phone chimes a second time.

“You appear to be busy.” He brings his focus away from my hands and up to my face. Then he drops his chin in approval of my request. “I will speak to Pastore. I will warn him against making such foolish statements in the future.” Finally, he grins. “I’ve always wondered what goes on inside a spontaneous man’s mind.”

“It can be fun.” Our meeting is over, and Cordoza’s time is valuable, so I push up to stand and fix the button on my jacket. “Spontaneity in one’s private life can be rewarding. And if not that, then at the very least, it can be exciting.” I flash a playful grin. Everyone in this room knows how I spend my private time. “Though, spontaneity within business, the way Pastore is running his as of late, is rarely wise. If it continues, it’ll end with his blood on my blade, and my heartfelt apologies extended your way. I do not wish to stain your streets red, Mr. Cordoza. But?—”

“But respect must be given where deserved.” He stands and extends his hand for me to shake. Immediately, I find myself grateful that we’re beyond the days of kissing another don’s fat fingers. Or at least, it was never Cordoza’s thing. “Pastore’s mental state has declined since he lost the lovely Ms. Mancino’s promised hand in marriage.”

“Play stupid games,” I drop his hand and wait as Micah repeats my actions, “win stupid prizes. Mancino was willing to sell his own daughter to a predator. She was always too good for those assholes.”

Cordoza chuckles, his large body bouncing with mirth. “She’s the smartest of us all. It would be a lie if I said the idea of making her my successor wasn’t on my mind.”

“Really?” His words surprise me. Not because Michelle Mancino is a woman, nor because she’s not his kid. Hell, she’s not related to him at all. But Michelle Mancino’s name isn’t really Michelle Mancino. She’s someone else entirely—and I’m not sure many people outside those in this room, and Michelle’s family, know that about her. “I was under the impression she isn’t interested in such a role.”

“She’s not.” He sets his hands on his hips. “Like I said: smartest of us all. I’ll speak with Pastore in the coming days and let you know if there’s something you should know.”

“Yes, Mr. Cordoza.” Dismissed, I circle my chair and turn back to face him. “Thank you.”

“And you’ll keep me posted on the Cannon woman currently staying inside your home.”

My heart gives a heavy knock and comes to a standstill. “Hm?”

His lips curl up smugly. “I always know what is happening in my city, and I get theCannon Dailyjust as regularly as you do. She with youwillingly, Malone?”

I clamp my lips shut and say nothing. Because there’s nothing I can say that won’t go badly for me.

“Keep it clean,” he admonishes, knowing the answer to his question already. “And don’t preach to me or anyone else about ‘business spontaneity.’ You look like a fool when you’re caught out.”

“Yes, sir.” I lower my eyes, adequately scolded. “I’ll be discreet.”

“See that you are.” He gestures toward the door and has his lovely blonde assistant open it for our escape. “We’ll be in contact.”

I turn on my heels and walk through the door before the old man decides to lump me in with the likes of Pastore, then striding through Cordoza’s elaborate home, I emerge on the front step a mere beat before Micah, and take a deep breath to fill my lungs, the way a drowning man might after he breaks the surface of crushing waves.

“Everyone keeps calling me stupid for bringing Christabelle into our home.”

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