The Dictator (Banker 2)

She smiled then released my hand.

Siena gave me a different look than she ever had before. She was full of emotion and affection, and it seemed like that moment meant as much to her as it did to us.

“Excuse me,” I said as I rose from the table. “I need to make a phone call.” I stepped inside the house but left the door open. I called Bates, but it rang and went to voice mail.

Mother’s voice reached my ears. “You love my son. It’s written all over your face.”

Siena said nothing, letting the silence linger. It seemed to go on forever before she addressed it. “I have a lot of respect for him. He’s a good man…even though he tries so hard to hide it. He always makes me feel safe, like everything is going to be okay even when it doesn’t seem that way.”

Mother waited a few seconds before she responded. “I can tell he loves you too. When a man looks at a woman like that, everyone in the room can see it. I’m not sure what your problems are, but put them aside and work it out—and not just for the baby.”

My mother finally left, relieving the stress from my shoulders.

That lunch didn’t go well, but it didn’t go as badly as I’d thought it would.

Siena and I walked into her bedroom when my mother was gone. “Your mother is lovely. She reminds me of my mom.”

“You mean, she runs her mouth and speaks her mind?”

“Yep.” She slipped off her shoes then sat on the couch.

“I’m surprised you didn’t run your mouth.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I sat beside her and wondered if it would be stupid to mention it. “You could have told her the truth. No one in the world besides my mother can dictate my actions.”

“I thought about it.” Her smile died away when the conversation turned serious. “Judging from her personality, she would never allow you to do such a thing. She wouldn’t have to raise her hand or her voice. Guilt would be enough. But then I changed my mind.”

“Why?” Since I’d compromised with her, was she being more cooperative?

“Because I know you won’t do it.” She held my gaze with sincerity in her eyes. “I know your heart, Cato. It’s too big to do something that terrible. Your need for revenge isn’t nearly as important as your need to protect your child’s mother. And not even just that…but because you care about me. So why tell her any of it when I believe in you? I want to prove that I believe in you.”

It was the first time someone had ever said something that left me speechless. I didn’t have a single response to that, any kind of coherent thought. She made me feel like shit and made me feel good at the exact same time.

“You’re angry with me because I betrayed you. It would be easy for me to ruin everything by confiding in your mother. I could destroy your pristine reputation and hurt your relationship. But I won’t. I could betray you again, but I don’t. I hope that makes up for what I did—by not ratting on you. And I’m gambling my life to do it.”

I couldn’t look at her because it was such a deep wound. It was difficult for me to feel guilty about anything when I didn’t have a soul. But I certainly felt guilty about this. “Siena…that makes me feel like shit. And it makes me feel worse because it won’t change the outcome.”

Her eyes fell in sadness. “I still believe in you, Cato. Even if you don’t believe in yourself.”

15

Siena

His mother was a breath of fresh air. She was funny, real, and she put Cato in his place just the way I did.

And she really did remind me of my mother.

I considered telling her the danger I was in, but I thought proving my loyalty to Cato would soften his resolve.

It didn’t seem to do anything.

Now I didn’t know what to do.

Maybe I did need to run away.

Now that I had permission to see my brother, I wanted to take advantage of it. I walked down the hall to Cato’s bedroom later that week and let myself inside without knocking. I’d picked the perfect time to barge in because he stepped into the bedroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“I don’t have to knock,” he barked. “But you do.”

“This is a two-way street.” I tilted my head as I examined him up and down, his perfect physique impossible to ignore—especially with those little drops of water. “And I really like this street.”

The corner of his mouth rose in a smile. “Then you’re about to like it even more.” He dropped the towel and tossed it over the back of the armchair.

Even when he was limp, he was still beautiful. I whistled under my breath.