And I don’t like it.
Forcing thoughts of Cristina Valentina out of my mind, I make my way into the bathroom. There, I splash water on my face, then stand at the sink for a minute and look at myself.
I never liked Arthur Clementi’s sons, not as long as I’ve known them. I never trusted them, even though my father had made Arthur my godfather. I have no idea why he did that. Maybe they were close once. Who the fuck knows?
Today, the sons received a warning.
If I’d lost my ships due to the unexpected customs check, I’d have bypassed that warning.
Arthur thought that knowing my father, being my godfather, would make some difference. But thing is, if you fuck me, and I let you get away with it, my enemies will line up to have their turn.
And I’m not fool enough to think anyone in this business is anything other than an enemy.
But that’s not what has me standing here studying my reflection. It’s not that this part of the business makes me uncomfortable. The opposite, actually. I’ve always made sure I’m the one to carry out the punishments, the one to make the example when an example needs to be made. I have a reputation for it, for being someone who, with countless soldiers at my disposal, enjoys getting his hands dirty.
I come back to this every time I’m put in a situation such as this.
The fact that I’m a monster.
The fact that this part of me feels more real, more like home, than anything else.
All the things my father expected and wanted my brother to be, I am. What would my mother think if she saw me now?
I drop the towel and undo my belt as I switch on the shower. I strip off the rest of my clothes and step beneath the warm flow, thinking about Cristina again.
Cristina out there with her cousin.
Cristina happy.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her happy, I realize. Funny how you don’t notice the lack of something until you experience its opposite.
And then the vanishing of that happiness when she faced me again.
Why do I give a fuck? She should hate me. She’s smart to. I will give her another reason to tonight.
Is giving her time with her cousin to make up for earlier? Maybe.
Is it to buy favor?
I don’t need to buy anything. She belongs to me.
The kid had come with his father for the brief meeting we had today and had told me he wanted to see Cristina. He hadn’t been rude although he’d not quite asked my permission. Given what happened earlier, I agreed.
I have to give him credit. He’s braver than his father ever was. I wonder if he’ll manage to hold on to that as he grows older. If he’ll behave with integrity when he sees the reality of how fucked up this world is.
Some people believe in Karma balancing the scales.
I believe that’s a load of bullshit.
You balance your own damn scales.
Some believe in coincidence. Take comfort in the expression that everything happens for a reason. And then they credit some god with this grand plan.
Idiots.
There is no god.
And if there were, what an asshole for allowing what happened to my family.
When I’m done, I switch off the shower and wrap a towel around my hips before walking back into the bedroom. I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. But she’s got another forty-five minutes, and I’ll give her that.
I get dressed in another suit, this time with a dark shirt and use the door connecting the bedroom to my study so I don’t disturb them. There, I sit at my desk and switch on the monitor that shows me the living room. I don’t turn up the volume. That has to mean something.
She’s so relaxed with him. Sitting on the couch like she is, one leg curled under her and laughing at what he says. He hands her something, a piece of paper. She takes it, reads it, wipes her eyes, then leans her head against the back of the sofa to look up at the ceiling, almost looking directly into the hidden camera.
And I can’t look away.
Whatever he just gave her has upset her, and she’s trying not to show it. Struggling against emotion.
I switch off the monitor wondering what the fuck is wrong with me and open my laptop to pick up the email I was reading earlier.
I’ve had an investigator on my brother for two years now. Off and on, I’ve known where he is, yet he’s pretty good about giving them the slip. I get the feeling he’s sending me a message every time he does. Wanting me to know that he knows I’m watching. That he’s still in control.
The PI lost him three weeks ago. Trail went cold in Bangkok. What the fuck my brother is doing in fucking Bangkok’s got me, but that’s not what I care about.