17. Laila
17
LAILA
“He’s suing me?!”
I shake the court summons Polina just handed me like it’s an Etch-a-Sketch. If I do it hard enough, will it disappear?
“Who’s suing you?” Guilia asks, leaning forward to see.
In hindsight, I’m not sure it was the best idea to open my mail in front of a guest, much less a new ally’s wife. But the ship has sailed. Also, I like Guilia.
“My dad.”
In a different crowd, that would’ve earned an eyebrow raise, but Guilia isn’t fazed in the least. “What for?”
“A house. My house. My mother got it in the divorce. But now that she’s gone?—”
“You’re mourning, and he’s coming for your house? Vulture!” Guilia gasps. “Petty, selfish vulture!”
“Oh, so you’ve met my dad already?” I ask sarcastically.
Guilia rests her hand on my knee. “There’s a clean and simple way of taking care of this problem, Laila.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I mean, what’s the point of having powerful husbands if we don’t use them? The man would disappear and so would that—” She gestures towards the paper in my hand. “—nonsense that it is.”
I blink. And blink. And blink. “You’re suggesting that I ask Arsen to…?”
I’m speechless. Can’t even finish the sentence.
Thankfully, Polina chimes in from the corner where she’s rocking Nina. “I’m not sure that’s how Laila wants to deal with this particular dilemma, G.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Guilia flushes. “I assumed you had a bad relationship with your father.”
“I do.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
This woman is serious. She’s talking about taking someone out the way I’d talk about putting bread on my grocery list.
“We have a bad relationship, but that doesn’t mean— I don’t want to kill him!”
“Sorry, cara mia— I forget myself sometimes.” Guilia shakes her head like she’s disgusted with herself. “I was born into this world. Enemies end up dead. I might be a little… desensitized to it all.”
“It’s, uh… it’s o-okay,” I stammer out. “You meant well.”
I think .
“I still think you should tell Arsen,” she says. “He doesn’t have to do what I suggested, but he can take care of the problem in other ways.”
Guilia still doesn’t know that Arsen and I are on the outs, which is for the best. I may not want to be married to Arsen, but I don’t want to turn his allies against him, either.
I’m about to delicately change the subject when the man himself strolls into the sitting room. “What problem?”
“Arsen!” Guilia smiles. “Nice to see you again.”
“I heard you’d come to pay my wife a visit. I figured I should come make sure you weren’t getting into too much trouble.”
“Trouble? Us?” Guilia gives me a wicked grin. “Never.”
Says the woman casually suggesting contract murder no less than fifteen seconds ago.
Arsen arches a brow. “I’ll be the judge of that. What problem do I need to take care of?”
Guilia, always cool under pressure, stands up. “That’s my cue to head home. Enzo is expecting me. If I’m late, this alliance could implode before it has a chance to begin.” She pulls me into a hug, her lips against my ear. “Sorry, darling. I didn’t mean for him to overhear. But let’s meet again soon.”
I nod and wave as Polina escorts her to the door, taking Nina with her.
Arsen drops onto the armchair next to mine, his eyes fixed on the envelope on the coffee table. Some spiteful, vindictive part of me wants to keep the news to myself. I want to prove to Arsen that I don’t need him. That I can handle things without him.
But my track record in dealing with Charles Barnes is spotty, at best. And, even with murder off the table, this is exactly Arsen’s wheelhouse.
He may not be the husband of the year, but he is good at his job.
I hand him the envelope. “Charles is suing me for ownership of Mom’s estate.”
He snatches it out of my hands, flipping through the pages with a dark look in my eyes. “This is fucking ridiculous.” He glances up at me. “I can handle this for you.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“Do you want him dead?”
“My God,” I mutter. “I didn’t realize execution was the Plan A go-to with you all.”
Arsen doesn’t seem to hear me as he reads over the suit again. “I’ve warned him over and over again. He doesn’t seem to get the message.”
I let myself imagine it for a moment—a life without the threat of my deadbeat dad popping up like a monster in a haunted house every few months.
A life without a father. Or a mother.
Just me and Nina.
Alone.
“I don’t want him dead. Not now, anyway.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I shove to my feet. “I can’t believe I just said that. I’m awful. What kind of daughter thinks that about her own father?”
“In your defense, he wasn’t much of a father.”
“Still! If people could go around issuing hits on crappy fathers, half the world would be at risk!” I shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t murder my own flesh and blood.”
Arsen runs a hand over his scruff, and I see a flash of some sign—the same thing I saw that night in the car on the way to dinner. He wants to tell me something.
“What?” I turn to him, venturing a step closer. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“I wanted to tell you the other night—as soon as I found out. But you didn’t want to talk. Then, after that, it never seemed like a good time.”
The way some people’s old joints can sense rain, my hip can sense drama. Pain flares up, hot and stabby. “Tell me now.”
“Remember the bounty?”
“The one that got me exiled for three months?” I roll my eyes. “Nope. Forgot all about that.”
“Turns out, Alessandro Calcagno didn’t get the idea for that hit all on his own.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“The suggestion came from someone else. Alessandro was just the man with the power to enforce it.”
He watches me carefully, letting me draw my own conclusions. Again and again, my brain connects the dots. But again and again, I refuse to see it.
“No. Just… no.”
“It checks out,” he warns.
I shake my head. “No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t.”
“Enzo is the one who told me,” Arsen continues. “He wasn’t there for the original deal, but he got the details from his father. He’s a reliable source.”
Chills run down my arms as my face burns. My eyes sting with… tears? Rage? I don’t even know what I’m feeling, but I know that this can’t be happening.
“He wants the house,” I breathe. “That’s all he wants. He wouldn’t— He— I’m his daughter.”
“I know this is a lot, Laila.”
“It’s not a lot; it’s impossible!”
But as I say it, I know it’s not. I know Arsen wouldn’t tell me that my own father took a hit out on me unless he had no doubts that it was true.
“This isn’t about you,” he says gently. “Not entirely. According to my sources, your father is in deep debt. That house is his lifeline—his only hope. He owes some very powerful men millions.”
“The house isn’t worth that much.” My voice sounds as paper thin as I feel.
“Perhaps not, but it’s a way for him to hold them at bay for a little while longer.”
None of this is funny, but I burst out laughing. “He’d kill me for some stopgap money? He’d still be drowning in debt, but my life is worth another couple weeks of freedom for him?”
“That’s the kind of man he is,” Arsen grits out. “He didn’t have any qualms about sacrificing you. Why should you feel any differently about him?”
The way he phrases the question… It all sounds so reasonable . Why shouldn’t I let Arsen deal with my father the way he would with any other lowlife criminal who crossed his path?
Because it’s not what Mom would want me to do.
I drop my head into my hands. “I’m not like him, Arsen. If he dies, he dies. But I’m not going to be the one to order his death. That’s not me.”
Arsen nods grimly. “I know.”
The silence stretches, making all the things we’re not saying to each other painfully obvious. At least to me.
“I want to fight him in court,” I croak eventually. “Do things the right way.”
“And if he starts fighting dirty?”
“Then I’ll leave it up to you to handle him in whatever manner you choose,” I concede. “I don’t need to know the details.”
Arsen’s eyes sharpen fiercely. “I’ll handle it, roza. I’ll protect you. Always.”