Page 22 of Hostile Bond
“She’s a Sapori married to a Souza.” Tomás reminds him. “There’s no better team.”
Sapori stares at him for a few seconds and sips his drink as he contemplates an answer. “Hypothetically speaking, in the event of my untimely death, which, let me add, is not a possibility unless I’m diagnosed with a terminal illness or dementia, Johnny would step in until the child is of age.”
“So you’re of sound mind now, Don Sapori. I’d have to question that given you're prepared to hand everything over to an outsider.” Tomás returns his stare, pausing for the poison of doubt to sink in. “Handing your power to a man who doesn’t have the Sapori name. Isn’t that what all this is about? Ensuring your pedigree bloodline.”
“I’m of perfectly sound mind, Tomás.” Sapori clips. “A Sapori Souza takeover could potentially work if there was ever the need for it. Presently, there is not.”
“Just so we fully understand your objective…” Tomás sets his glass on the table and presses his elbows on his knees. “…hypotheticallyspeaking, of course, if something bad happened, you agree that Sinéad would inherit everything?”
Sapori nods and Fat Johnny blows out a few smoke rings, clearly unimpressed. “Ifsheoutlivesme. All this talk of my death is unnecessary. Especially when I have certain precautions in place. I’ve reached her before…and I’ll do it again.”
I blink at him and breathe slowly through my nose, taking a step closer. My shoulders remain braced, and my thoughts are nothing less than toxic. Not killing this man is a sin.
“However, blood is blood.” Sapori continues. “I’m sure you’d offer her counsel on important affairs and Johnny could act as her advisor if the unimaginable happened. I have no plans of going anywhere, not anytime soon, Tomás.”
“André is fully capable of offering his wife counsel. Kudos to you for your matchmaking skills,” he replies sarcastically.
Sapori’s haughty snicker curdles my blood with absolute loathing. “They are quite the pair. She clearly gets her rebellious nature from her mother and would benefit from a strong hand. And André is a wild Souza animal, much like Elias.”
Tomás bristles. “You’re forgetting my father built our kingdom, the global cartel syndicate that it is today.” His voice trades pleasantries with frosty caution. “That psychotic blood of his flows through all of his son’s veins. I might be the crowned Souza kingpin, but my brothers play a huge part in our family business. Elias raised all of us to be killersandkings. A word of warning Don Sapori—do not disrespect André—or any of my brothers, for that matter.”
Tomás’ imperial warning kick starts my heart in an unfathomable way. He’ll never understand how his belief in me rebuilds the years of disappointment endured from a father who demanded excellence and could never beat it out of me, no matter how hard he tried. I might not wear physical scars of his abuse anymore, but it's ingrained in my psyche.
I fucking love my brothers.
Sapori breathes hard, his annoyance visible by his rigid posture. “We’re family now, aren’t we?” He cocks a hostile brow. “People like us dominate the world when we have successful treaties in place. Your grandfather and I have had a long-standing alliance which has proven mutually useful over the years. I can see this union has not only gifted me with a grandchild, but opened the arms of an extended family.”
I roll out the tension in my shoulders and stalk even closer, joining Tomás on his side of the couch. This fucker needs to vacate my island before I block his airway with a plastic bag.
“Now that we have the good news out of the way, let’s discuss the main reason why you’re here,” I say bluntly.
Sapori taps the screen on his phone before him and cocks his head. “I’d like to see my daughter first. To congratulate her.”
“Not going to happen,” I tell him immediately. “She’s resting. Doctors’ orders.” He can’t do shit out here on my land, but I still won't let him near her. I’m in control. “It's only been a few weeks since one of your men gave her a concussion. I shot him dead.”
He crosses his arms and reclines like he’s on a throne, his calculating gaze assessing me. “She ignored her father. I’m sure your Papá did a lot worse to you. Plus, I came all this way…”
My short fuse ignites, the speed of it taking hold charges through me. This piece of shit won’t get anywhere near my wife. Not now. Not fucking ever. “Why don’t you stop wasting our time and give up the name?”
Sapori narrows his eyes at me. “I underestimated the desperation of a man who’d wanted a mafia princess as his bride.”
My hands clench into fists. “Who the fuck are you calling desperate?”
Tomás clears his throat and twists our family signet ring on his finger, his own tolerance thinning. Muggy air swirls around us in the seconds it takes for Sapori to taunt me.
“I’m talking about Scott Acer,” he finally replies, inspecting his manicured nails. “He still wants my daughter… and my organization. At this point he’s a threat to all of us. If he manages to eliminate you and take Sinéad as his wife, he’d likely come after me next to secure his place at the head of my empire. I could get rid of him myself… however, I thought you’d appreciate the opportunity to avenge the loss of your head of security. I understand he was close to you. Think of it as a wedding gift.”
When he finishes, Sapori sits there smiling. The egotistical fucker. My heart turns to stone, becoming numb under a nauseating shroud of retribution. I crack my knuckles, wanting violence,needingwarfare.
“Did you tip him off…” I barely curb the tornado catching up with me. “… about Sky Hotel being the place where Sinéad worked? Or that I spend a lot of time there.”
Sapori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t you see the leaked footage of your rooftop brawl? Luckily, your face wasn’t visible from the snippet. But it’s obvious that poor son of a bitch who was skewered to the bar had pissed off the Miami cartel. Who else would risk such a brazen public show of authority and not face any consequences? That’s my point about you, André. You react first before you plan.”
His mockery siphons through my muscles. “Is that so?” I glare at him, nodding my head slowly. “You know fuck all about me.”
Matheus flips his ankle to his opposite knee and sets his phone down. The movement snares my focus, temporarily halting my thirst for this man's blood. I push myself up to stand and pour myself a drink. The whiskey burns on its descent, doing nothing to extinguish my sour mood. “We’re done here. Get the fuck off my island.”
Stalking away from the group, I stare out at the glittering ocean. The instant there’s a comfortable measure of distance, I inhale deeply. My heart beats and battles to the sound of his haughty muffled voice, turning my thoughts inwards, vicious and cutthroat.
