Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
RAFFAEL
I take a second to breathe in the livid animosity that flares in Isla’s stormy gray eyes.
It’s exquisite. The sight enough to make my blood run hot.
She wants to unleash violence on me, and given different circumstances, I’d let her. But that’s an indulgence I’ve spent years trying to carve out of my system.
“Enjoy your night.” I turn on my heel and set a path through the crowd, my grin hard to contain as I relive the encounter on my way down to the hotel parking lot where I find my brother.
“Will she continue to be a problem?” Miko asks as I settle into the passenger seat of his Alfa Romeo.
“No.” I fasten my belt. “She’s under control.”
The power went to her head, and after a lifetime waiting for her CEO position, I don’t necessarily blame her. But she earned her reprimand. Nobody is allowed to fuck with my family without living to regret it.
We slip into the Manhattan night, the traffic thick and gleaming in neon colors.
“Did Philip look different to you?” Miko shoots me a sideways glance, the question sobering.
“Yeah.” The asshole was pale. Posturing. Whatever pulled him from CrossPoint wasn’t the luxury of early retirement.
“What do you think it is?”
“Could be anything.” Stress. The weight of too many secrets pressing in. Philip Cross isn’t exactly the straitlaced guy he’s led his daughter to believe. “What did you and him talk about?”
“The usual skirting around the obvious.” Miko shrugs and turns onto Fifth. “I offered the standard birthday formalities. Then came the nostalgia. He brought up our father and how he wished he were here to celebrate.”
I hold in a snarl.
Our father—neither the biological one nor the man who raised me—would want to celebrate Philip even if both men weren’t dead, their demise barely three months apart, over two years ago.
“That would’ve been an enjoyable conversation,” I drawl.
“Riveting,” Miko mutters, clenching his fingers around the steering wheel. “Are you sure you’ve got Isla under control?”
I focus on the sluggish crawl of city traffic, not appreciating his lack of faith. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”
“No.” There’s a pause. “But she didn’t look muzzled. She seemed downright feral.”
“She’ll fall into line.”
I know her.
She’s had a busy week clawing her way into power, baring her teeth in boardrooms, and unleashing a decade’s worth of feminine aggression on an industry that never made room for her.
Every power play she’s pulled in her interim role has been fueled by pride—wounded, starved, and finally off its leash. She thinks results buy her immunity. That as long as CrossPoint’s bottom line climbs, her ruthlessness is excused.
And when that serrated edge of hers is aimed elsewhere, I can oblige. Hell, I can even admire her new-found knack for wreaking havoc.
But if she dares set her sights on me and my family again?
I’ll have no choice but to take pleasure in bringing her to her knees.
The weekend is quiet.
I like it that way.
No calls I can’t ignore. No spot fires. A total lack of chaos.
Just order, early mornings in the gym, black coffee, clean reports, and long stretches of silence.
By the time I walk into my office on Monday it’s after eight and the city is in full swing. Horns. Crowds. The air thick with impatience.
I’ve already skimmed the international markets and mapped out my schedule before taking my seat behind the desk and opening my laptop to comb through the top-line data for Q2.
It almost feels like the start to a fucking solid week until my office door sweeps open, the glass shuddering as the handle thwacks into the wall.
“You said she was under control,” Miko barks.
I pause, two fingers resting on my trackpad, and raise my gaze from the screen. “Care to give some context to the theatrics?”
He paces, one hand clawed in his hair. “Check your fucking emails.”
I navigate to my inbox. To the outside world, Miko’s the composed, smooth-talking playboy. But behind closed doors, his temper doesn’t always wait for the full story.
I open the most recent email. From him. No subject. Just a YouTube link.
I click it.
My pulse kicks as Isla floods the screen.
She stands on the front steps of her office building—composed, radiant, lethal, and dressed for fucking war. A charcoal power suit hugs her figure, her white blouse unbuttoned just enough to show a glint of gold at her throat.
A cross pendant.
She’s not religious.
It’s a strategic show of morality. Not a good fucking sign.
I don’t need the sound to know what she’s up to. But I play it anyway.
“… After careful internal review, we’ve chosen to part ways with select partners due to a misalignment of ethics and direction.
CrossPoint remains committed to integrity.
To transparency. And accountability. We won’t apologize for demanding more from our clients.
It’s one of the reasons we remain a market leader in investor confidence. ”
I slam my fingers against the trackpad, pausing the clip. I’ve seen enough to make my hackles rise.
“Does she mention us by name?” I seethe.
“She doesn’t fucking need to,” Miko snaps. “There were already whispers at Philip’s party. Anyone who hasn’t figured it out yet is about to.”
I scrub a hand over my mouth and stare at Isla frozen in time—smug, superior, and sinfully goddamn calculated. “Get the video taken down.” I slap my laptop shut.
“Eli’s working on it, but it’s already been live for over an hour. Investors are going to start calling any minute.”
In my periphery a figure approaches along the glass wall of my office.
A familiar silhouette—slim build. Long, dark hair. A fearless stride that demands attention under her two-inch heels.
I curse beneath my breath. “Our sister is here.”
Miko stiffens, his chin hitching. “As if this morning couldn’t get any worse.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, not in any state to navigate their tumultuous dynamic, as she pushes through the door, sparing Miko a barely there glance before aiming her ire on me. “What the hell is going on?”
I heave a heavy sigh. “Good morning, Aurelia.”
She’s as polished as ever, perfectly fitted into a soft-rose wrap dress that clings to her waist and drapes over her hips, the satin material catching light with each step toward my desk. “That press conference from CrossPoint was about us, wasn’t it?”
“News travels goddamn fast.” Miko turns away, focusing out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“You didn’t need to come here.” I lean back in my chair, pretending every instinct I have isn’t pushing me to storm CrossPoint’s headquarters and claim Isla’s head on a platter. “You could’ve called.”
“And miss the opportunity to see the King of Deception’s poker face?” She raises a haughty brow. “No, thanks. I deserve to know what’s going on, even though my brothers seem to enjoy keeping things from me. I’m a partner in this company, too.”
“Silent partner,” I clarify. “By choice, remember?”
She squares her shoulders. “Don’t play with me. Last week I heard rumors CrossPoint was cutting ties. Now they’re making a public statement? What the hell have you done?”
“I’m handling it.” I force a smile as Miko clears his throat in subtle condemnation.
“Not well enough, obviously.” Aurelia crosses her arms over her chest. “Things are changing and I don’t like it. This isn’t the company our father handed down to you.”
She’s right.
It’s not.
We aren’t merely here to make nice while increasing our bank balance anymore.
It’s funny how objectives change when family secrets are exposed.
“If you have an invested interest in the way the company is run, maybe you should come back to the team,” Miko taunts. “There’s an office available right next to mine.”
I shoot him a warning scowl.
Aurelia steels her shoulders. “I do my fair share. And the investors I’ve brought in won’t be happy with us being shunned.”
“We’re capable of finding our own investors,” Miko turns from the window just enough to cut her a glance. “Your harem of cashed-up pretty boys don’t exactly come without complications.”
Her jaw ticks.
It doesn’t take a fucking genius to predict this conversation is about to take a nosedive.
“I appreciate you coming in to check on us, sister,” I state before she can add more fuel to the fire. “But this situation will be rectified. I’m handling it personally.”
Her lips thin, her composure on life support. “Are you sure it’s rectifiable?”
I stare at her, not bothering to reiterate my capabilities.
“Fine.” She sighs, her arms falling back to her sides. “But I want to be kept informed.”
“Of course. I’ll leave Miko in charge of calling you with updates.”
She blinks hard, clearly still battling her temper. “Emails will be more than sufficient.”
“My fucking pleasure,” Miko mutters.
“Great.” I drum my fingers against the desk. Once. Succinct. The conclusion to an unwanted situation. “Now that we have communication preferences out of the way, I assume we’re done here.”
Aurelia doesn’t move.
Neither does Miko.
There have never been two people more allergic to each other’s company. Yet both seem reluctant to leave.
“Is that all, Aurelia?” I ask.
Her brow furrows, the slight pinch announcing concern she’s hesitant to voice. “I guess so.”
“As always, it was lovely to see you.” I turn my attention to the door in dismissal.
She mumbles something under her breath. Something that sounds suspiciously like eat my ass then pivots on her heels and saunters from my office, the whirlwind of her departure not quite as chaotic as her arrival.
“You, too, brother.” I reopen my laptop, anticipating a snapped retort from Miko that doesn’t come.
Instead, he closes in, settling into the space where Aurelia had just been.
“She has every right to be upset.” He waits until I meet his stare, his anger now eclipsed by something far less decipherable, as it often is where our sister is concerned. “And you know Eliseo told her, right?”
I drag in a deep breath, well aware of who’s to blame.
“Their bullshit twin bond is no excuse for him to be stirring up trouble,” he adds. “Not to mention, he’s the entire reason our integrity is in free fall.”
“You’re absolving yourself of any responsibility?”
His eyes narrow in confusion. “What responsibility am I meant to take?”
“We let our brother get this way, Michelo. We buckled under his demands and—”
“We buckled because he’s fucking crazy,” he accuses. “What were we supposed to do?”
I don’t know.
I massage my temples, fucking tired despite the day barely being started.
We should’ve forced Eli into therapy. But my brother doesn’t unpack trauma. He prefers to gift wrap it, then set it on fire.
A man unwilling to heal, when it’s far more cathartic to burn.
“We had a plan.” I drop my hands back to my desk. “We should’ve stuck to it.”
“I wasn’t the one who fast-tracked the timeline and insisted we make an example of our targets by acquiring them outside of the shell corps.”
I wasn’t either.
But we’re both responsible for caving under the weight of Eli’s torment.
“We let him do this, Michelo. We should’ve pushed back. We’re just as much to blame.”
Me more than Miko.
I’m the head of this family. I should’ve quit pandering to our baby brother’s demands long ago. If only it wasn’t easier to say yes to him. To tell myself just one more company. One more hostile takeover. One more ruined empire.
I guess I got a taste for revenge, too.
“How do we fix this?” Miko steps closer.
“I’ll figure something out.” I always do.
I’m the one who cleans up the mess. The brother who hides bloodstains and burns evidence. It’s what I’ve done since my siblings were born. Lied to teachers. Covered up street fights. Paid off police.
This isn’t any different. Just higher stakes. Bigger bodies. So much more to lose.
Miko exhales loudly. “You realize he’ll go after Isla, right? And he won’t go easy on her like you have. She’ll learn the hard way that we’re not to be denied.”
I lean back an inch, adjusting my cuffs with a calm I don’t fucking feel. “I’ll handle her.”
“You can handle her all you like, but you know there’s no stopping Eli once triggered. He’ll want to shut her down himself, and there’ll be no coming back from the way he does it.”
I fight the building tension in my limbs. The choke of restraint.
I have so much more to deal with than my fucking baby brother.
“He doesn’t touch her.” I glower. “She’s mine to manage. I’ll go over her head to Philip and make sure she’s cut off at the knees.”
This is personal, after all.
She’s not trying to hurt the Cavallo name. She’s trying to hurt me.
Every strike she lands is calculated to make me bleed. Publicly. Personally. Permanently.
Her actions are in direct response to how I rejected her two years ago, her attack reeking of bruised ego and unresolved history.
“They owe us, Raffa.” Miko holds my stare. “There are far better ways to shut her down than snitching to her father. Why not beat Eli to the punch and tell her—”
“No.” I cut him off, my nostrils flaring. “I know how to handle her.”
He rolls his eyes. “I think I’ve seen this film before…”
I steeple my hands in front of my mouth and mentally count to three. “We’re done here, brother.”
Miko scoffs. “You’re protecting her.”
I don’t take the bait. Don’t flinch. “I said we’re done.”
I drop my gaze to my laptop, slide a finger over the trackpad, and shut down Isla’s video. “Tell Eliseo to have the press conference scrubbed from the internet. And make it clear—CrossPoint is not to be fucked with.”