She smiles after a minute or so, a sad lilt to the shape of her mouth. “You don’t trust me now, do you?”
I don’t answer. What can I say? No? I don’t need to answer. She’s reasonably aware of who I am now, probably understanding everything my mind’s trying to navigate. She’s a thief. Who would trust that?
I stand and cross over to her, pulling a chair out when I get there.
“Sit, eat.”
“Masterful.” Hmm.
We eat silently, no conversation like we’d normally pick our way through. It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and not the slightest bit like it has been between us up until now. But then this isn’t holidays anymore. And I’m no longer the Nate she knew out there. It pisses me off as I slice meat, the metal grating against the plate.
“You know, I’m still the same girl I was in Bora.”
“No, you’re not, Gabrie—” Her cutlery clatters to the plate, chair scraping back before I’ve found the rest of my sentence, attitude all over her damn features.
“You’re not who I thought you were either, you know? I’m not the only liar here. I thought you were just an accountant. Okay, a rich one, but I never thought you were mixed up in this,” she says, waving her hand around the place. “I mean, Cane? What the hell, Nate?” She paces as I put my own cutlery down quietly and watch her. “You’re worse than my brother with his dishonesty and criminal dealings.” That has me raising a fucking brow at her, ready to explode at her attitude. “I thought his dealings were bad enough, but this? I mean, look at this place. Is there anything honest about you?”
“Screw you.”
“What?”
“You heard.” She opens her mouth to retaliate, then turns abruptly and walks off towards the stairs. “Sit down, Gabriella.” She doesn’t even slow down. “Get your ass back here and sit down before I damn well make you.” That halts her a little, her hand hovering on the bannister like she’s checking herself. “Whatever the hell your outburst is, it stops now. You wanna do this then we’ve got some talking to do. Sit down.” She turns and looks at me, eyes narrowed and looking far too fucking interesting for my rational head to deal with. “Sit.”
Two full minutes pass like that, both of us staring and neither of us caring for the arguments that might come. If we’re doing this, we’re bringing it all out. Here and now. She’s about to find out just who I am, and just how I’ll react to shit in my own home.
“You’re different here,” she eventually says. Her body turns back to begin walking down the stairs again, that attitude calmed a little. “Harsher. Why?”
Because she’s in my house now. Mine. My rules. My world.
My fucking power.
She half halts as I continue staring at her, probably questioning what the hell she’s doing, but she’s not getting a damn thing from me until she sits her ass back on her chair. My frown increases so she knows that fact until she finally lands herself where I want her.
“Better?” she says, as much sarcasm as she can muster filling the word. Still I stare, unsure what the hell it is that I’m trying to say, or not say.
“Do you even comprehend where you are?” I toss my napkin at the table. “Who you’re dealing with?” She raises her chin, about to interrupt. “No, keep it zipped. I don’t know what the hell you’ve been up to, but this isn’t a world that gives one fuck about diamonds, Gabby.” She screws up her face a little, trying to find a comeback. “You’re playing in something you can’t even begin to understand. This isn’t a game about pretty jewellery. Neither Marco nor whomever else is invested in this cares one shit for your life, you get me?” She starts to stand, anger beginning to chisel those features to knives. “Sit down.” She glares and hovers, neither sitting nor quite standing.
“Don’t you think I know that? I’m trying to save my brother’s—”
“No matter what you do, your brother will probably die anyway.” Her eyes widen, all venom leaving her at that thought. “If it was Cane he was fucking with, he wouldn’t have lasted this long.” She stands fully, mouth ready to launch into something I’ve got fuck all interest in hearing. “And don’t bother trying to talk. You’re damn well hearing this. SIT. THE FUCK. DOWN.”
Her ass hits the chair at my tone, lips clamped closed and her eyes refusing to look anywhere but directly at me. I pull in a long breath through my nose, trying to regain some element of calm in the middle of my concern for her life.
“You want to know who I am, Gabriella? Look around you, because you’re right. Iamworse than your brother. Far worse. None of this is honest, nor has it been acquired through decency or respect. My brother? Killer. Me? The same, just hidden in an accountant’s clothes these days.” I throw my gun on the table, the metal sliding across to her, and remember that one damn time I had to take a life. “You see that? That has all been Cane. Underhanded. Dirty. Fingers in every fucking pie to make sure the deal goes our way.” Her face stays flat, eyes pinched as she listens. “Do you know how many times I’ve watched an Andreas Alves be killed, his sister be raped and tortured for fun?” That screws her pretty little face up again. “Want to know how many times I was part of it?” My fingers stretch on the table, remembering those women and their screams, the men and their pleas for life. It sickens me now as much as it did then. “Yourassociate, Marco Mortoni, is just as insidious when necessary. And his lineage certainly was.” I frown at the thought, still able to visualise my mother in that house even though I never saw her there.
I lean back, watching as she shrugs my dressing gown tighter around her, and pull in a breath at the thought of all those wasted hours making us legitimate if this was going to come bite our ass. “You wanna know how hard I’ve worked to make us safe? How much I’ve had to close the fences around us to lock out this shit you’re now bringing to my door again?” She shakes her head slightly, eyes looking at the floor now rather than boring into mine like I’m the one in the wrong. “Real fucking hard, Gabby.” I huff out, intent on not giving a damn for the one woman I love so I can keep Cane safe. It’s a damn lie, one that nearly rips my heart open when she slowly crawls her eyes up to me. “You’ve got yourself neck deep in a shitstorm that could well blow and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do about it without risking my family.”
Silence. Utter fucking silence.
“Nate, I can go,” she eventually says, quietly. “I’m not bringing anything to your door. This is my—”
“No.” I hold my hand up and stand. She’s not going anywhere, and she needs time to assimilate all that information, as do I, now I’ve finally let it out of my mouth.
And I need to plan, strategize, or think harder than I already have done.
I walk away from the table and cross to the lounge, eyes staring out of the window in the hope that divine intervention gives me some clue where the hell we go from here. I need to speak to Quinn about Andreas, and I need to know more about whatever deal she has going down. From her and from him. Details are what I need.
All the fucking details.
