Page 21 of Hostile Bond
A colorful parrot takes flight, the feathery green bird sensing an undercurrent of impiety.
“I should have thought about an arranged marriage sooner.” Sapori shakes my brother's hand. “Perhaps she would have been better suited as your wife, Tomás. I’ve no doubt you’d enjoy getting her pregnant.”
My veins run ice fucking cold.
Tomás lets go and corrects his posture, extending his height a fraction, so he’s even taller than the aged godfather of Sicily. “I’m engaged.” He announces matter-of-factly. “Haven’t you heard Sinéad’s good news?” He adds.
Sapori frowns. “Is she pregnant?”
Tomás cocks his arm in the direction of the couch. “Please… take a seat.” He ignores the question. “Have you met my youngest brother, Matheus—the law wizard?”
I do my best to rein in my disgust for this man when Matheus respectfully stands and Sapori greets him with a fake-friend slap on the bicep. A horrid wave of sweat breaks out on my back and my instincts to kill fire up.
Sapori and Fat Johnny stroll to the couch, both of them exuding the arrogance of men who fear nothing—because they believe they’re untouchable. And with the threat of an unjust murder looming over us, they are.
They sit opposite Matheus as he offers them a drink. Tomás glances over at me and nods discreetly.
My temper spikes when Sapori hums, considering me over the rim of his glass. “The suspense is killing me, gentlemen. Have we got good news in the wake of carnage?”
I crick my neck and take a drag of the cigarette resting on my lips. “My wife is having a baby,” I reply, with excruciating composure.
It’s not exactly the truth, nor a lie. She’ll have my baby, eventually.
“Congratulations.” Sapori raises his glass. “I knew you’d see sense.”
Motherfucker.
I’ll cut his condescending tongue out of his smug face and shove it down his throat if he even looks in my wife’s direction.
Tomás plucks the knees of his pants and sits. “Before we get to business, how about you tell me your plans for Sinéad and her baby? I wasn’t invited to the wedding, so I’m on the back foot,” he laughs frostily.
“I heard you went down in a Mexican street war?” Fat Johnny lights a thick cigar and pushes his ass deeper into the cushioned couch.
Tomás swills the amber liquor in his tumbler. “I went down for a heartbeat and came back stronger than ever.”
“Shame Elias didn’t do the same.” Sapori muses, the mention of our father a bold move.
A black haze descends, the misty loathing covering me from head to toe, so even the sun can’t warm my bones.
“Is there something you’d like to tell us? Do you know who murdered our father?” Tomás cocks a brow at him.
Sapori eyes him quietly. “Elias had many enemies. I was not one of them. As I explained to André, his unborn child is the heir to my empire. I’ll need to know the sex of the child as soon as possible. Obviously, I’m hoping for a boy.”
“And Sinéad, your actual daughter?” Tomás straightens. “What’s her role in this? I mean, we have to be careful here. There were two assassination attempts made on my brother. Which puts you in the firing line too. Unless… you had something to do with it?”
“I wouldn't be sitting here if I wanted him dead.” His gaze cuts to mine from across the patio, cold steel-gray eyes drilling into me.
Inside of me, a storm rages. I want this motherfucker six feet under.
“Being part of the Souza family always has its risks.” Tomás continues. “What if you die before the kid is old enough to learn from you? Who would take over?”
Sapori hums as he thinks. “The ungrateful bitch has no desire to rule… I have plans in place.”
I toss my cigarette and watch sparks fly when it hits the stone slabs underfoot. My patience is at an all-time low. Matheus clears his throat and catches my eye, widening his own subtly. He knows I could fuck this up like a hurricane obliterating a city.
I might be seething under the surface, but I’m fully capable of containing my murderous impulses long enough to watch these two fuckers board the ancient yacht they came here on.
My self-restraint shows on the palms of my hands where my nails embed semicircle creases into the flesh.
