Page 44 of Bound By Her

Stunned, Jonathan watched as Callen poured each of them a sizable glass.

When they held the amber liquid, Callen clinked his glass to Jonathan’s. “To our victory.”

“Victory?” Jonathan said.

Callen was calm and almost jovial, and this version of him threw Jonathan off.

The two of them had been friends since childhood. If things were different, Jonathan would have been Callen’s Right Hand, but politics and race got in the way. Jonathan was Russian, and his hand belonged to the Russians. Since Ivan Federov’s death, the two had rekindled their friendship. Finding a common goal: power. In that, they both wanted more of it.

Jonathan had worked for months to get his son a spot in Adria’s stable, and now he was being sidelined because Callen had gone rogue.

Callen shook a finger at him before taking a sip of his drink. The ice rattling in the glass.

“I think it’s time we thought bigger than skimming the books and petty schemes,” Callen said.

Jonathan’s anger returned. “You are getting in the way of my plans with Adria.”

“Oh, forget about her for a second,” Callen said with a dismissive wave.

“I CAN’T,” Jonathan exclaimed into the room. He was acting like a petulant child, but every fiber of his being felt it.

He told himself that he would drop the Triune’s letter and leave. However, upon arriving in North Carolina, he found it impossible to leave without seeing her. Even though they had agreed to keep their distance, Jonathan couldn’t help but feel a strong pull towards her.

And when he saw her eyes, her hair, and her skin, what was once a small flame had turned into a raging fire. Making him certain, he needed her by his side.

Callen put his hands up. “All right, all right, I understand.”

“What if my plan suited both of our needs and then some?” Callen said.

“How?” Jonathan replied.

Callen finished his drink and poured himself another. Jonathan watched, shocked, as Callen downed a second and started on a third.

“My son is a real disappointment. This deal with Adria has brought out a truth I simply cannot ignore,” Callen said.

Jonathan poured himself another round of expensive scotch and sat on the heinous opulent red couch.

“Bryson was never meant to lead. Viola and Luca died in that crash. My wife. My son. And Bryson—by some miracle, or curse—walked away from the wreckage without a scratch.”

His mouth tightened, jaw ticking. “Bryson, he never does as told, and his only sense of loyalty is to his two lackeys. The three of them do what they want, and aboutthe only thing you could count on them for is complete chaos.”

“So, you’re starting to see what’s really there, so what?” Jonathan asked.

“That’s just it. Kaydon is the nearest to level-headed between them. Seth is a stick of dynamite that can light his own fuse whenever he wants. The wake of destruction…” Callen trailed off, taking another sip of his drink. “I cannot trust him with the family business. Or the family name. His loyalty lies with them, not with me,” he said bitterly.

“The Triune will never sanction his dismissal, especially after Luca and Elena…” Jonathan said.

“Well, let’s just say the boy can’t die on my watch.”

The glass almost slipped from Jonathan’s hand. He looked down as roughly five hundred grand of liquid splashed precariously in his grip. What was Callen saying?

“You actually want to kill Bryson?”

No one was around to hear it, but Jonathan whispered it into the room.

It was treason.

“The boy practically begged to off himself, when he was in here last,” Callen said, taking a drink. “Pity, I needed Adria’s land, otherwise I would have taken him up on his offer.”

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