Page 135 of Unholy Union
“Morning, boys and girls!” he greets, completely unbothered by the stares. “Apologies for the delay. The festivities haven’t kicked off without me, have they?”
He flashes a grin like this is some college reunion instead of a formal board meeting for a billion-dollar enterprise. I level him with a glare as he drops into the seat to my right, reclining into the chair as if he hasn’t a fucking care in the world.
Sergio De Rossi starts the meeting with a rundown of our next major shipment. Auto parts—both legal and not-so-legal—headed for clients in Asia. He’s gloating with his usual fast-talking underboss flare, but I’m only half-listening. My attention drifts back to Cassian, who’s obviously gotten himself into some deep shit like he has so many times in the past.
I can only guess what it could be this time.
The moment the meeting wraps, the execs shuffle to their feet, murmuring to one another and gathering files. They make their exit slowly, trickling out the door. I call out to Cassian before he can even begin to make his exit.
He’s halfway out of his chair, exhaling like I’ve inconvenienced him.
“Really, big brother? After a two hour meeting about customs protocols and shipping containers? Can’t this wait ’til after I’ve had caffeine?”
I ignore him, meeting Lazaro’s gaze from across the room. I give a nod that he understands. He shuts the door after the last exec files out of the room, standing by like a sentry.
The second we’re officially alone, I unload on him.
“What the fuck is going on with you? What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?”
Cassian shrugs, grinning enigmatically. “I had myself a night out, that’s all. You wouldn’t know anything about that these days, would you? You’re tied down by the ol’ ball and chain. While you and the wife were probably sipping wine over a candlelit dinner, I was out in the real world. Things get a little wild out there.”
I slam my palm flat on the table, killing the grin on his face.
“Cut the shit,” I growl. “That bruise isn’t from a ‘wild night.’ Who the hell did you get into it with?”
Cassian sighs, finally dropping the act. He leans back in his chair, sliding a hand through his rumpled hair. “Some Russian fucks at a club in East Village. I was helping a friend and things got a little messy.”
I narrow my eyes. “Define ‘a little messy.’”
“They came at us. I pushed back. A bottle or two might’ve been broken. But it’s handled.”
Lazaro, who’s been silent until now, tilts his head to the side. “Russian? You meanBratva?”
Cassian waves him off, irritated. “What difference does it make? It’s already handled.”
“It makes a hell of a lot of difference,” I snap. “If you’re not telling us the full story, if this was more than a bar fight, if you’ve stirred up something bigger without thinking?—”
“Relax. It was a one-off. Not everything’s a goddamn declaration of war. I said it’s handled.” He’s risen to his feet and started moving toward the door, brushing past Lazaro with a nod. “See you tonight, big brother. Congrats on six months.”
I glare after his retreating form, watching him disappear down the hall. Cassian claims he’s smoothed things out, but I know my younger brother better than almost anybody on this earth.
And I don’t believe a damn word he’s said.
“I really wish you could make it, Tess! Are you sure you don’t want me to swing by your apartment with some soup? I don’t care if it’s my own dinner party! I’ll miss half of it if it means bringing you soup so you can feel better. Ugh, fine. Be stubbornand rely on UberEats. I’mwaymore trustworthy than one of their delivery drivers and you know it. Okay, alright… I’ll stop neglecting my dinner guests. But call me if you need anything. Bye.”
I lean my shoulder against the kitchen doorway, arms folded as I watch Sabrina hang up her phone and slide it onto the kitchen counter. She’s wearing a silky black halter dress for our dinner party, bare back exposed in tantalizing fashion.
I push off the frame and move toward her. “What’s wrong?”
She glances up and sighs, brushing her hand across the kitchen counter. “Tessa’s not coming. She said she’s not feeling well and didn’t want to risk being around everyone. I offered to bring her soup, but she told me not to.”
I wrap my arms around her from behind, pulling her back flush against my chest. “That’s too bad. Her loud mouth will be missed.”
“Cato,” she laughs.
“You know I’m kidding. I like Tessa. She has good taste.”
Sabrina rolls her eyes, biting away her smile. “Oh, please… you say that because she agreed with you about the Italian food on a desert island thing!”
