Chapter Thirteen. Asad #3
“Where did you get this?” I ask Michelle, flicking a hand toward the laptop.
“It’s real, if that’s what you’re trying to imply.”
I scrub a hand down my face. “I’m not taking your word for it. I’ll have it authenticated myself.”
I already had. Ro had verified that the recording hadn’t been altered or somehow deep-faked before she sent me the original. But I needed to buy time, to plant doubt, to somehow, fucking somehow, save Ember from an imminent execution at my mother’s urging.
“How long will it take to have that done?” Naoki asks.
I search his face for any hint of condemnation, of rage, but it’s as unreadable as always.
“Not long. I have a tech who can handle it,” I reply.
He nods and stands. “Let me know when it’s done and the results. Until then, I have a meeting I need to attend.”
Don Amato follows suit, rising and rebuttoning his suit jacket. “Same. I’ll be waiting to hear the verdict. From you,” he pointedly states, pinning a flat, menacing stare on Michelle. “We’ll talk soon, Prince.”
I don’t say anything as the two men leave, probably fed the fuck up with our infighting and the messy way this entire meeting went down.
Damn sure annoyed with Michelle. It isn’t often I’m embarrassed, but watching the don and oyabun exit the conference room, it singes my face, neck, and chest. This bullshit is an indictment of my leadership.
Just a couple of days ago, they’d been praising me, and now …
Shit, now they undoubtedly view me as incapable of handling shit in my own house.
Shifting my focus back to my mother, I’ve never so desperately wanted to treat a person like a random bitch on the street and choke her out.
“You’ve let whatever … fascination you have with this girl blind you,” Michelle says to me after the door closes behind the two men. Her voice softens, turns placating.
As if that’s going to work on me.
“Mom, please.” Kareem holds up a hand, wincing before giving me a sympathetic but firm look.
“She might be going about it in an … unusual way, but Mom has a point. As much as I don’t want to believe Ember is capable of murdering her own father, there’s proof that she was there, in Marcus’s building, headed in the direction of his apartment the night he died. Did she tell you she was there?”
“No.”
A gloating smile stretches across Michelle’s face as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“Of course she didn’t. I mean, why would she?
There was no reason for her to be there that night …
except for one. And if she would kill her own father, what would she do to you?
What has she done to get to you? Maybe Deacon and Xavier weren’t working alone.
Maybe they had help. Inside help. We all know they resented Marcus choosing you as his heir.
Someone who supposedly wasn’t family—who wasn’t a Cross.
Could be they intended to install a Cross by blood as the head.
Not many people would be able to turn down the seduction of finally being in power.
Especially when a person believes their inheritance was stolen from them.
Is it so far-fetched to believe they would come for the perceived thief? ”
“No one could’ve convinced me that Xavier or Deacon would’ve ever betrayed this family or Marcus.
But now that we know they have, Michelle’s point holds merit.
” Malcolm looks from her to me, straightening in his chair and leaning forward, pounding a fist on the table.
“If they went to the drastic length of trying you, they were also capable of working with Ember and killing two birds with one stone. Especially since it was common knowledge he’d chosen you as his heir apparent. ”
“I don’t know,” Kareem interjects with a frown. “That’s a bit of a reach.”
I’m not buying it either. Besides, I’ve already had this conversation with Eli and Makeda. Yeah, Ember killed Marcus, but I can’t help but believe it was for her own personal reasons, not to be installed as the one true Cross. Not when she’s too ready and willing to walk away from all this shit.
But that doesn’t mean family wasn’t involved, as Xavier warned.
What was it you said? How ’bout I keep family out of it? A little too late for that shit.
Xavier’s taunt spins in my head, and I side eye Michelle. Today showed me that she’s more than capable of being a traitor. Of risking it all to gain what she wants. Power. Revenge.
The only thing keeping me from latching fully on to the idea of Michelle being that mastermind working with Xavier and Deacon is she can’t rule. Not as a woman, and not as simply Marcus’s wife. Hell, Ember would have more of a chance than Michelle would.
But now, I’m widening my circle on who could be involved. He said “family.” That could realistically be anyone in this organization.
I’m still not ruling out Michelle though. And I can’t discount Ember.
After last night? After our connection and what we shared? After she admitted to killing Deacon for me, because of me? No. No one could convince me that she still wanted me dead. But the hit was made before then. When she loathed everything about me.
Shit. I splay my hands wide on top of the table in order not to ground the heels into my eyes. I silently, viciously curse. Exhibiting any sign of emotion, of weakness, might as well be handing her bullets to load a Glock. And my mother, of all people, isn’t afraid to use it.
“Prince,” Kareem says, gently closing the laptop. “I get it. This is a hard decision. If you need time…”
“No.” Michelle slashes a hand through the air with a small growl.
“Time? For what? She played all of us. No one—not Marcus, not Asad, or you—believed me, but I always told you Ember isn’t as innocent as she likes to portray.
After watching her father prefer you all these years …
watching him groom you to take over the business and family, she decided to take what she knew Marcus wouldn’t willingly leave her.
Unfortunately, her father didn’t find out in time how much of a snake his daughter was, but thank God we have.
We need to act. Now. An eye for an eye. It’s fair, and everyone in this organization would agree.
As the head of Cross, it’s your duty to do what’s right. ”
I’m so tired of hearing her fucking mouth. The more she talks, the more I’m not looking down on matricide.
“I agree with Michelle,” Malcolm states. He looks at Greg.
Slowly, the other man nods. “I have to agree, Prince.”
The other soldiers murmur their agreement, and my throat feels as if every one of their words is like a shovel of dirt being thrown on top of me, burying me alive.
Anger coalesces in the pit of my stomach, hardening, a tumor I fear is incapable of being excised.
Why didn’t Ember say something about killing Marcus?
At least say something to me, grant me some way to try and protect her.
By staying silent—and in turn forcing me to remain silent—we’re both fucked.
And now, I might have to kill her.
“Thanks for the information. I’ll handle it.” I push back my chair and stand, indicating this bullshit meeting is over.
But Michelle being Michelle refuses to let it go. Her thin eyebrows arrow down into a frown. “What do you mean, you’ll handle it? In what way?”
I inhale. Exhale.
Yeah, fuck it.
Grabbing my Glock from my shoulder holster, I set the gun down on the table and stare unblinking at my mother. I’ll give credit to her; she doesn’t hightail it out of here. But she can’t hide that flinch or the tremble in her hand as she lifts it to the base of her throat.
No doubt, she’s probably choking on the words she wants to hurl at me, but wisely, she swallows that shit down. Right now isn’t the moment to test me. I’ll forget she pushed me out her pussy and treat her like the cold-blooded bitch who murdered her own husband to get to the top.
“Fine.” She forces a smile that’s as real as her eighteen-inch buss down. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you keeping me posted on the steps you decide to take. This is my family, too, after all.”
I nod, and she turns and leaves the conference coom, leaving behind traces of her signature perfume and not one damn hint of the peace I’d walked into this office with this morning.
“I’ll follow after her and make sure she’s okay.
And isn’t out there causing more shit.” Kareem’s attempt at levity falls flat, but I appreciate the effort.
And unlike his mother, I appreciate the loyalty to me he displayed today.
After he rises to his feet, I pull him into a hard, brief hug.
Shock wavers over his face, but it’s quickly replaced by a small smile. “I’ll call you later.”
“We trust you’ll make the best and appropriate decision,” Malcolm says, also standing and striding over, arm outstretched. I clasp his hand, and he gives it a firm squeeze. “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
The other ol’ head soldiers approach to shake my hand and they, too, exit, leaving just me, Eli, and Makeda. They held their own counsel the whole meeting, but now I look toward them for any advice.
Eli crosses his arms over his chest. “Your mother screwed you.”
I slam a fist down on the conference table.
“Fuck.”
“You sure about this?”
I glance at Makeda before the elevator doors open on a soft hiss and step inside, she and Eli following me.
Once the doors close, I lean forward and stare into a concealed retina scanner.
It flashes green, and only then do I remove my keys and insert one into a slot below the numbers panel.
The elevator gives a tiny, soft jerk and then starts to descend toward the basement.
“I’m sure I don’t have much of a choice,” I reply to Makeda’s question.