I shake my head. “A promise.”
Emery sighs and claims the seat Stefan just vacated. “Are you going to keep these promises or will you be busy working all day?”
She sounds casual enough, but I can hear the concern in her words. She doesn’t think I should be working so much, either. Maybe she and Stefan are scheming together, trying to come at me from both fronts.
“There’s a lot to do.”
“You’ve been in here since before the sun came up.”
“And I’ll stay here until I’m finished.”
“Roger that.” She swallows her disappointment. “Sounds like you two were planning an attack?”
I nod and chew.
“Is that a good idea?”
I swallow slowly and look up at her. She's watching me with those worried eyes again—like I'm standing on a ledge and she's waiting for me to jump.
"I don't have bad ideas."
"That's not what I meant," she says. "I just mean… well, Yasha has been a bit of a distraction."
“Too much of one,” I growl. “And I’ll deal with him in time. But the Volandris need to know they can’t launch an attack on us and face zero consequences. They need to know we won’t roll over and take it.”
"But do they need to know that right now?"
I shove my plate away and stare at her. "What would you suggest then, princess?”
If she notices the sarcasm in my voice, she shows no sign of it. She folds her hands in her lap, folding and unfolding them as she thinks. “Your dad just died, Adrik.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Are you?” she snaps. She sighs, seeming to regret her tone immediately. “It’s just… you’ve been so busy working that you haven’t really taken time to—”
“Working is all there is right now,” I snarl. “It’s the only thing that matters.”
Hurt flashes in her green eyes. “Is that what you really believe?”
“My father is gone. My brother is gone. This Bratva is all that remains of what my family built. If I let it fall away, there won’t be anything left.”
Emery nods slowly. I see her throat bob and her eyes glaze over. “Okay. Um… well, I’ll leave you to your important work, then.”
She stands up and turns away slowly, like she’s hoping I’ll stop her. Like she’s hoping I’ll call her back and pull her close. That I’ll tell her so many things matter to me—so many people. Her and Isabella above all.
But I don’t. Because I won’t or because I can’t, I’m not sure.
Whatever the case, I let her walk away.
And then I get back to work.