Page 57 of Devil's Iris
Then the thought twists when I realize the children she mothers might not necessarily be mine. And the urge to kill something—someone—pounds through my veins until my vision goes dark around the edges.
No. She’s mine. Any children she has will bemine.
Maximo’s hand lands on my shoulder as he gets up from his seat. “Come on. Meeting in Rafael’s office.”
“Yeah, yeah, go do your boring stuff in Rafael’s office. Don’t ruin the atmosphere here.” Emily waves us away with mock irritation. “And you only have thirty minutes. You know the rule—no business talk during dinner. But I’m letting this one slide.”
“Amorina.”Rafael chuckles, pressing a hard kiss to her temple as he stands.
I catch Leni’s gaze across the table, silently asking if she’s okay with me leaving her here alone with the ladies. Her smileis soft, reassuring, followed by the subtlest nod. Only then do I get to my feet and follow my brothers out.
Rafael takes his usual place behind his mahogany desk, Michael drops into a chair across from him, Maximo claims one of the armchairs, and I sink into the other, my eyes automatically drawn to the framed artwork on the wall. Four paintings of four flowers. Azaleas, Tulips, Lily of the Valley, and Iris. Each one representing the men in this office.
“I found out we have another thief targeting our pharmaceuticals.” I jump in before anyone can bring up anything else. Because knowing my brothers, they’re about to rip into me about Leni, and I’m not giving them the chance.
“What?” Michael frowns. “I took care of that last year.”
“Inyourterritory,” Rafael reminds him. “I doubt anyone will try that on your turf again. They must be trying to see how far Romero will take it once he notices.” His eyes flick to me.
Maximo clicks his tongue. “Dumbfucks are about to learn the ‘playboy’ of Brooklyn isn’t just a pretty face.”
I glare at him. “Was bringing up that goddamn title necessary?” Over eight years since that article and they still won’t let it die.
“Speaking of playboys–” Rafael starts.
“Let’s not,” I interrupt. “Let’s stick to business.”
“Did you know that your fiancée is the daughter of John Barlowe, the traitor you had executed?” he continues unruffled, and my eyes slide shut.Shit. Here we go.“You knew?”
“Fuck, you have to break it off with her, Rome.” Maximo’s strange tone has me opening my eyes. “She’s going to be hurt when she finds out you’re the man who killed her father—and that you knew all along but kept it from her.”
When,not if. As if her finding out is inevitable.
“I’m not breaking anything off. I’m not the one who killed her father.”
“But giving the order is the same as doing the deed, isn’t it?”Michael asks quietly, and I swallow around the lump in my throat.
I can’t do this. Can’t sit here and dissect every reason why this is going to end in flames. I push to my feet, adjusting my cufflinks. “I don’t need to hear this shit. I’m going home.”
“You’re both going to end up destroyed by this,” Rafael murmurs. “You’re too invested. She’s going to react badly when she finds out—and shewillfind out. These secrets have an annoying way of coming out. You should know.”
His pointed stare burns into me. He still hasn’t completely forgiven me for telling Emily the full truth about what happened with her dad ten years ago against his wishes. “This won’t be like that. I’ll make sure of it,” I say, forcing conviction into my voice. “And you’re all going to keep your mouths shut.”
Rafael just shakes his head. “Sit back down and tell us how you handled things with Julian DeMarco. Does he know where Katie is or not?”
I take back my seat again, but my mind is spinning. Because as I update them on the absolute waste of time that was lunch with Julian, I can’t stop thinking how similar Katie’s case is to Emily’s when she disappeared fifteen years ago, leaving behind only a letter.
Back then, Emily got help from Stacey Rodrigues, a special agent of the FBI who had some less-than-savory connections. Is Katie’s case the same? She’s also an FBI agent, isn’t she? Does she have someone with connections helping her out?
The pieces are there, waiting to be assembled. I just need to find the right angle to see the whole picture.
21
LENI
“The ladies were surprisingly nice.” I’m drunk on laughter and warmth, completely boneless from the evening’s unexpected joy. That’s my excuse for crawling over to Romero’s side of the car and placing my head against his chest.
“Oh, yeah?” He doesn’t miss a beat, sliding his palm across my bare shoulder. A delicious shiver races through me at the touch.
