The Sweetest Oblivion (Made 1)

“Good choice. Some of them were . . .” He turned around with a slight frown. “Uncultured.”

“You’re no longer a second son,” I noted.

A flicker of pitch black passed through his eyes. “No.”

My stomach tightened. “Is that why you’re here?”

As soon as the last word left my lips, a wave of pure tension brushed my back. My body went still, but Sebastian stood where he was, his hands remaining in his pockets as he flicked a gaze to the man behind us.

“Elena. Downstairs.” The words were cold and distant. Words of a boss that carried an unmistakable timbre of control. A shiver worked its way beneath my skin. “Now.”

I turned around to comply.

I knew this breaking the rules thing wasn’t for me . . .

Nico didn’t give me a glance. He remained focused on the Colombian who stood in the middle of his club and who I was beginning to think hadn’t received an invitation.

This version of Nico was all hard lines and an intimidating presence that burned if one stepped too close. I couldn’t help but notice that the man I knew caressed me with the same hands the don used to maim.

I passed him and headed down the hall, but something made my feet halt around the corner, the tension thick enough to suffocate. An itch to see how Nico did business. Plain curiosity.

“You have five seconds to explain how the fuck you got into my club.”

Sebastian’s laugh was quiet. “Straight to business, then?” His tone turned as sophisticated as his suit. “Very well. I put the front cameras on loop and used the good ol’ credit card maneuver.”

“There are two chain key locks on that door.”

I could feel the smile spill around the corner. “What can I say? Maybe you should have gone with three.”

Silence met my ears and I could tell Nico wasn’t amused. “If you want to leave here with all your body parts intact, I would start talking.”

“My brother must not have been a friend of yours.”

Impatience crept on the air and I inhaled slowly.

“Perez,” Sebastian said. “Oscar.” A pause. “You see, my brother was suspicious—straight up paranoid, really—about someone trying to kill him. Can’t say I didn’t consider doing it myself. I mean, I think I had thoughts about it since I was seven—”

“Point,” Nico snapped.

Sebastian sighed. “Well, he was so paranoid he hired a private investigator. Someone who followed him around and made sure no one else followed him.” He laughed. “Ironic, no?”

There was an intermission as though he waited for Nico to respond. Nico never did say anything, and I imagined he was only giving the man that intimidating glare.

“Right,” Sebastian repeated. “Well, the reason I imagine my brother wasn’t a friend of yours is because that PI has some photos of you shooting him in the head.”

My pulse skid to an awkward stop. And when all Nico said was, “Don’t think you’ve come to tell me who this PI is,” a cool rush of awareness flooded me.

Sebastian laughed. “If I did that, I’m sure he’d be floating in whatever river is closest to here. Besides, he gave the photos to me. Wouldn’t have even taken them if he’d recognized it was you. ‘Bout had a heart attack when I pointed it out.”

“Smart man,” Nico drawled. “You, not so much. Tell me what you want before I decide I don’t give a shit.”

“Let’s just say my brother ran the business into the ground. Killed a lot of our contacts with his . . . well, to be frank, he loved women. Fucking them, beating them, cutting them up. It made for bad business. You partner with me and those photos go poof.”

Nico let out a sardonic breath. “You realize, starting a new relationship with blackmail isn’t the smartest move you could make?”

“Like you would have considered a new supplier another way.”

Nico was the one who killed Oscar . . . Why?