Chapter Five
Tristan
I’m in the kitchen taking a pan of salmon and potatoes out of the oven when the doorbell rings.
Frowning, I make my way to the door. I was in the middle of preparing a candlelit dinner for Nera and myself. We’re certainly not expecting any guests tonight so I have no clue who it could be.
I open the door and groan loudly when I see who’s standing on the other side.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What do you want?”
“Hello to you too, huevón ,” Thiago answers, glaring at me.
Thiago da Silva is the head of the da Silva cartel, one of the largest criminal organizations in the United Kingdom and Latin America. He’s a cold-blooded murderer and a violent, unfeeling psychopath.
Inconceivably—and very much to my chagrin— he also happens to be my brother-in-law.
He kidnapped my sister, Tess, forced her to marry him, and, most egregiously of all, somehow, some way , worked some kind of voodoo magic shit that made her fall head over heels in love with him.
When I told her she was definitely suffering from Stockholm Syndrome, she simply laughed and shrugged, patting my shoulder with a playful “absolutely” before walking off.
She’s in too deep I fear, so I’ve had no choice but to grudgingly accept Thiago.
That being said, my brother-in-law and I’s relationship resides somewhere comfortably between the North Pole and the Arctic Circle temperature-wise, so finding him on my stoop is surprising to say the least.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask. My voice takes on a hopeful tone when I add, “Has my sister finally come to her senses and left you?”
Thiago’s fists clench and a dangerous gleam cuts through his eyes. “My wife made me promise to never shoot you, but put those words out into the universe again and I’ll carve you up like a turkey on Thanksgiving day.”
Crossing my arms nonchalantly over my chest, I lean against the doorframe and raise an unimpressed brow at him.
“First of all, given that you’ve shot her best friend and gotten Tess herself shot, I’m not surprised she made you promise that. Secondly, can you please cool it with the ‘my wife’ bit?” I click my tongue against my teeth in disgust. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. It’s weird.”
“Wife trumps sister.”
“She’s been my sister a lot longer than she’s been married to you. And a lot more willingly, I might add.”
He shrugs. “I did what had to be done.”
Part of me can respect his approach to trapping my sister in their marriage, although there’s a higher chance that I’ll suddenly decide to shave my nipples off with a cheese grater than there is of me ever admitting that to him.
A year and a half ago, Nera and I broke up after I lied to her about who I was. My wife is the strongest, most stubborn, take-no-prisoners type of woman I know, and she made me pay for my betrayal.
She refused to see me for four months.
Four. Fucking. Months.
Four months during which every second felt like I was dying, like I was being withered down to dust then blown into oblivion by the wind.
Her family had forced her to bend to their will her entire life, so I refused to do the same thing to her, to be just another abuser in her story.
But, fuck .
Not a day went by where I didn’t wish I was taking the Thiago approach and just forcing her to marry me and forgive me.
A babbling sound pulls me from my ruminations and draws my attention down to Thiago’s feet where I finally take notice of the baby carrier.
My brother-in-law didn’t come alone.
“Is that—” I start, my gaze flicking back up to his. Thiago’s black expression smooths away in a heartbeat, and just like that, the violent killer recedes to the background, replaced by the proud father. “Is that my little nephew?” I coo, my voice rising two full octaves and reaching a pitch I’d categorically deny ever using if questioned, even under heavy torture.
I crouch and reach into the carrier, freeing Theo from the maze of straps wrapped around him and taking him into my arms.
As much as I wouldn’t miss Thiago for a second if he disappeared from my life tomorrow, I know that’s no longer in the cards because the bastard had the gall and the brilliance to immediately impregnate my sister, tying her—and thus me—to him for life.
Yet again, I can’t help but respect his game.
I’m out here playing a clean game of checkers while Thiago is playing grandmaster-level chess.
“Hey, little man. Did you come to see your favorite uncle?”
Looking down into his tiny face, I can’t help but wonder if he’s going to turn out to be a bloodthirsty killer like his dad or a corporate genius like his mum.
God protect us all if he turns out to be a combination of both.
“He only has one,” Thiago answers dryly.
I glare at him over my six-month-old nephew’s head.
“What are you still doing here?” I question again, very much interested in the answer. “Theo can stay, but you can go back to mutilating and murdering random people. Or whatever it is you like to get up to in your spare time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Tristan. Mutilation and murder are my career, not my hobbies,” he corrects pleasantly, watching me bounce his son against my chest with observant eyes. “Trying out new torture methods, however? There’s a hobby.”
I pause mid-bounce. “I’m sorry, are you making jokes now?”
“Apparently.”
“Please stop.”
Before I can add anything else, I hear the soft cadence of heels on marble and feel my wife approach from behind me.
A small hand finds my lower back and runs up my spine, settling comfortably between my shoulder blades as she snuggles up against my side. An addicted shiver shakes my body at having her dainty touch on me. All of sudden, I want to throw Theo at his father so I can push Nera up against the wall and slam my mouth down on hers.
“Can we not talk about torture and murder in front of the baby, please?” she asks.
Looking down at her with heated, yearning eyes, I whisper, “I want one.”
If it were up to me, I’d have put ten babies in Nera by now, biological impossibilities be damned. But my wife is training for her second Olympic medal so I have to wait three more long years. It’s only my unwavering support for her dreams that’s keeping me from saying ‘fuck it’ and pumping her full of my babies.
But once that second gold is around her neck, it’s over for her.
“Soon,” she answers with a soft smile. Leaning forward, she kisses Thiago on each cheek, much to my displeasure. “Thiago, it’s lovely to see you, come in.”
She steps back, but I block his entrance. “Kissing my wife before you’ve even set foot in my home. What’s next? Do you want to sit at my dining table? Help yourself to my robe and slippers too maybe?”
Nera scrunches her nose. “Are you comparing me to inanimate things?”
“No, I’m just saying he’s too comfortable touching what belongs to me,” I answer grumpily.
“Play nice,” she admonishes me.
“What is he doing here anyway?” I ask. My eyes drop down her body for the first time since she joined us and my brows shoot up into my hairline. “And more importantly, what the hell are you wearing?”
It’s a rhetorical question. I can see with my own two disbelieving eyes the black strappy dress she has on.
The very tiny black strappy dress.
“Tess and I are going out for a much needed, much deserved girl’s dinner,” she explains, grabbing her purse off the foyer console.
“But I was preparing dinner for us,” I pout.
“And that’s why Thiago is here,” she counters. “You two can enjoy a nice boys’ dinner together.”
I could also ‘enjoy’ a nice firing squad, but I similarly choose not to.
I turn towards him with an affronted look on my face, still holding his son against my chest. “You were okay with this?”
He gives me a deadpan look. “What do you think?” With a deep sigh, he adds, “Tess threatened to not speak to me for a weekend if I didn’t say yes, so I didn’t exactly have a choice.”
Christ. There’s no hope for any of us where our wives are concerned, and it seems that he’s as whipped as the rest of us.
Looking back at my wife, I shake my head. “I’m not letting you go anywhere without me in that dress, Nera.”
Thiago cuts in before she can answer. “I felt similarly about Tess’s outfit,” he grumbles. “But I have that covered.”
He turns and waves at a couple of black cars parked on the street behind him. Six men in suits step out and nod at him.
Thiago faces us once more. “Tess has six of her own bodyguards tonight. These six are for Nera. They have orders to shoot to kill on sight if any man gets within breathing distance of our wives.”
Turns out, I might have judged Thiago too quickly.
He seems like a good man after all.
Very good morals, even better judgment.
Excellent discernment.
All around great bloke.
“That’s overki—” Nera starts.
“If we’re forced to stay home while you two go out, then that’s the condition, baby,” I tell her. “Take it or leave it.”
“Fine,” she says with a pout.
“Now kiss me before you leave,” I order.
“ Jesus ,” Thiago mumbles, reaching for Theo. “Give me my son before he witnesses something that’ll permanently stunt his frontal lobe development.”
He takes him and walks into our house, heading back towards the kitchen.
“You got my sister pregnant within three months of marrying her,” I call after him. “Don’t pretend all you two do is crochet when you’re together. And also, you’re a murderer , I’m sorry to inform you but there’s not much hope for my beloved nephew’s frontal lobe with you around.”
Turning back towards Nera, I find my wife’s eyes and smile pointed in my direction.
“Come here you,” I whisper, reaching for her hips and tugging her against me. “Be good tonight.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and gets up on her toes. “I will. Enjoy your playdate,” she adds with a grin. “You two are so similar. No, don’t deny it, you’re already bantering like an old married couple. Your enemies to friends arc is going to be so powerful.”
“I hope you know that you’re going to owe me for this. I’ll be getting my payment from you later.”
Nera blinks cutely up at me. “Do you promise?”
I cup her nape and yank her against me, claiming her mouth with mine. It’s violent and ugly, just like the need and love I have for her. Marrying her only made it worse.
Ripping my lips off hers with difficulty, I say, “Get out of here before I change my mind.”
Nera takes a step back, then twirls, giving me a three-sixty view of her dress. The bodyguards swarm protectively around her as she walks down our front steps and onto the sidewalk.
She looks over her shoulder and blows me a kiss. I catch it and press it up against the left side of my chest where my heart is. I miss her already and she’s not even gone yet.
I close the door with difficulty and make my way into the kitchen where I find Theo back in his carrier and sound asleep, his father standing next to the table I’d set for Nera and I.
“How romantic,” he says, his tone mocking.
I put out the flames of the taper candles with my fingers. The last thing I’m doing is having a candlelit dinner with Thiago.
“How would you know? You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”
“I’m romantic.”
I snort.
“I’m romantic,” he assures me, louder now. “Call my wife, she’ll tell you I’m romantic.”
“Sure you are.”
I don’t know what it is that’s so satisfying about needling him, but I can’t help myself.
“Do it,” he orders like I’m going to do anything he says.
“No, thank you.”
Next thing I know, his phone is up to his ear and he’s pacing the length of my kitchen.
“ Amor ,” he starts, putting Tess on loudspeaker. “Your brother thinks I’m not romantic. Tell him I am.”
My sister’s melodic laugh comes through the phone.
“Are you two fighting?”
“No–”
“Yes.”
Thiago glares at me. “Are you sure I can’t shoot him?” he asks. “Please? A flesh wound, just for fun.”
I don’t even bat an eyelash. No way my sister is going to let her husband shoot her favorite brother.
“You made me a promise, Thiago…”
Her voice is tinged with disappointment and his eyes widen.
“I did,” he assures her. “I’m fulfilling it. Enjoy your dinner, amor , I love you.”
“Love you, baby. Kiss Theo for me.”
Thiago hangs up and puts his phone away in his jacket pocket. He pulls out a chair and sits down, looking expectantly at me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Sitting and enjoying your company.”
I look around my kitchen for the hidden cameras that would explain this shift in behavior. Finding none, I ask, “Did you just have a stroke?”
“No.”
“I think you might have. Your facial features are going to start drooping any minute now. I’m sorry to be blunt but I think my sister is with you only for your looks—it certainly can’t be your personality keeping her around—so let me call an ambulance before that happens and irreversible damage is done.”
“Sit down.” I open my mouth to tell him to piss off when he adds, “ Please .”
I blink at him. “Okay, now I know you’ve definitely had a stroke. I’ll let the paramedics know the symptoms appear to be severe.”
“I made my wife a promise.”
There he goes again with the ‘my wife’ shit.
“Not to shoot me?”
“To spend time with you.”
That’s the last thing I expected him to say. “Huh?”
He sighs, settling back into his chair. “I don’t care what we do or what we talk about. Joder , we can sit here in silence for all I care, so long as I spend three hours here with you before going home.”
“Why?”
“Because a long time ago, I promised Tess that I’d get to know you and befriend you. Then she got shot and we had the baby and we got caught up in our own little bubble so it fell by the wayside, but I did make her that promise. And I keep the promises I make to my wife.”
“Why did you promise that?”
“Because it’ll make her happy.” He says it like I just asked him if water is wet, like the answer could not be more evident. “I’d be willing to do things a thousand times more painful than hanging out with you if it made her smile.”
I stare at him for a long time, at this notorious, ruthlessly callous and violent man who’s sitting in my house and basically trying to date me just because it’ll make my sister smile.
Walk him like a dog, sis .
In the year and a half since they’ve been together, we’ve never spent time alone, just him and I. We’ve always had the company of my friends or his to buffer us, mostly because I was uninterested in spending any more time with him than I needed to.
He’d forced my sister into this marriage and that’s all I needed to know. I’d obviously seen many examples of his infatuation with her, from how he’d cared for her after she was shot to the birth of Theo, but I always thought it was obsession and not love. Doomed to burn hot for a while and then eventually fizzle out.
But seeing him now, sitting in my kitchen, his spine straight, his jaw set in a determined line, and his eyes flashing with intention, I realize that this is a man who would do anything to make my sister happy.
Maybe he’s not a lost cause after all.
I grab the salmon from the island behind me, pull out a chair opposite Thiago, and sit down.
“Well, come on then. Let’s eat. You’re married to my sister so I know she’s not feeding you. Or if she is, it’s not edible.”
“I have a chef,” he says, coming to her immediate defense as he forks a piece of salmon. “She doesn’t need to cook.”
“Of course not.”
“She’s very talented at other thin—” He cuts off abruptly after taking his first bite. Then he groans, shoving a second forkful into his mouth. “ Puta madre , are you sure you two are related?”
I laugh and reach over to clap him on the back.
Our wives were right to set up this impromptu ‘playdate’, as Nera called it. There’s hope for me and my brother-in-law and I after all.
***