Chapter 34
I woke to my phone vibrating on the nightstand. Elin was still curled against my chest, her breathing steady and peaceful. Last night's revelations had exhausted her, but the weight that had lifted from both of us was palpable. Carefully extracting myself from her embrace, I checked the message.
Harley: Juarez arriving at the villa in an hour. Your father demands your presence.
Fuck. Miguel Juarez. The man who thought he had a claim on my sister. I texted back a quick acknowledgment and slipped out of bed, watching Elin stir slightly.
"Duty calls?" Her voice was husky with sleep, eyes still closed.
"Unfortunately." I leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Family business. Stay as long as you want. I'll call you later."
She nodded, pulling the blankets tighter around herself. "Be careful, Pretty Boy."
Forty minutes later, I pulled through the wrought-iron gates of the Azzaro villa—the family estate where I'd grown up but hadn't called home in years.
The sprawling Mediterranean-style mansion gleamed white against the perfectly manicured gardens, beautiful yet cold like everything my father touched.
Security was heightened with extra men patrolling the perimeter and snipers positioned discreetly on the roof. It was almost as if Father were taking no chances with Juarez's visit, and yet he was giving his daughter away to him.
Harley met me at the door, his expression grim. "He's bringing eight men with him."
"Eight?" I raised an eyebrow. "Rather excessive for a friendly business discussion."
"Your father has twelve of ours stationed throughout the house and grounds."
I nodded, straightening my tie as we walked through the marble foyer toward my father's study. "Where's Rhea?"
"Safely away. Your father sent her to the lake house this morning."
At least he'd done something right.
Gavriel: How’s the water this morning?
I didn’t want to set off any warning bells if our texts were being intercepted. We had perfected the method over the years. There had been too many times that Father had taken her phone from her and gone through her personal messages.
Just another method of controlling her the best he could. Another way to prove she’s nothing but his property.
Rhea: It was a bit choppy this morning, but the waves have calmed down. I’m having some alone time curled up under the blankets. I can’t help but think about the times Joel and I spent together. I miss him, Gav.
Mixture of code and truth.
Gavriel: I know. Let me know if the weather gets to be too much. Storms are on the horizon. I’ll come get you if you need me.
Rhea: Okay. I love you.
Gavriel: Love you too.
My father was waiting in his study, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the rose garden.
The room was a reflection of my father's power and ego.
Dark mahogany bookshelves lined two walls, filled with leather-bound volumes he'd never read.
Just a facade and illusion of cultured refinement.
His massive desk dominated the space, a slab of marble atop hand-carved legs depicting wolves hunting down their prey.
Behind the desk hung the Azzaro family crest, an owl with red eyes and a line of bloodied roses at its feet.
At sixty-two, Don Ezequiel Azzaro was still an imposing figure—tall and straight-backed, his silver hair impeccably styled, his custom suit without a single wrinkle.
The only sign of his age was in the deepened lines around his eyes and the slight tremor in his right hand that he tried to disguise by keeping it in his pocket.
"Gavriel." He didn't turn from the window. "You're late."
"Traffic," I lied smoothly, coming to stand beside him. The tension between us had been thick since our last confrontation, but today we needed to present a united front.
"Juarez brings eight men. A show of force." My father's voice was cold. "Remember who we are today. Remember your place."
The owl and his talon. Father and son. Don and heir. I knew my role—the show of violence that he had at his command.
"Of course, Father."
His eyes finally slid to mine, calculating. "I hear you've been . . . distracted lately. By the Perkins woman."
My blood ran cold, but I kept my face neutral. How fucking dare he. "My personal affairs don't interfere with business."
"See that they don't." His hardened gaze returned to the window. "They're here."
The beauty of Father’s office was that it overlooked the gate and the circular entrance to the compound, so there was a clear view of the front door.
A convoy of three black SUVs rolled up the long driveway, stopping in a precise formation before the main entrance.
Security moved into position as the vehicles' doors opened simultaneously.
Miguel Juarez emerged from the middle vehicle, flanked immediately by two men in suits whose bulges at their sides betrayed their weapons. The remaining six men spread out in a protective formation around him.
Juarez himself was meticulously groomed, his steel-grey hair slicked back, his tan skin bearing the weathered marks of a man who'd spent decades in the cartel business. His expensive suit couldn't quite hide the predatory nature beneath—a shark in designer clothing.
"Shall we greet our guests?" My father's tone made it clear it wasn't a question.
We descended the grand staircase together, father and son, the picture of dynastic power. Men were stationed all over the entrance, two of which opened the double doors as we approached, and Juarez stepped into our foyer with the confidence of a man entering his own domain.
"Don Azzaro." Juarez's smile didn't reach his eyes as he extended his hand. "A pleasure, as always."
My father clasped his hand firmly. "Miguel. Welcome to my home."
Juarez's gaze shifted to me, his smile widening fractionally. "Young Azzaro. The famous talon." He extended his hand and I took it, feeling the excessive pressure he applied. A small dominance play I chose to ignore.
"Don Juarez."
"I was just telling your father how much I'm looking forward to our upcoming . . . family arrangement." His eyes glittered with malice. "Your sister is a beautiful woman. I plan to enjoy making her mine in every way."
My jaw clenched, and I felt my father's warning glance. Rhea was the bargaining chip in this alliance—her body, her future, her happiness all sacrificed for business.
"My sister isn't part of today's discussions," I said evenly, releasing his hand.
Juarez laughed, a sound like gravel. "Everything is connected, mijo.
Family, business . . . pleasure." He turned back to my father.
"Speaking of business, I'm looking forward to finalizing our arrangement for moving supplies from San Diego up through Northern California.
With your distribution network and my product, we'll control the entire West Coast within a year. "
My father nodded, gesturing toward his study. "Let's discuss the details in private."
As we walked, I caught Harley's eye across the foyer. A slight nod passed between us. He would ensure our security remained vigilant while I endured this meeting.
In my father's study, Juarez took the offered seat across from the massive mahogany desk, while I remained standing by my father's right side. Two of Juarez's men positioned themselves by the door, their expressions blank.
"Whiskey?" my father offered, already pouring three glasses.
"Your hospitality is legendary, Ezequiel." Juarez accepted the glass, raising it in a mock toast. "To new beginnings."
The whiskey burned down my throat, but I kept my expression neutral.
This meeting was a power play—Juarez coming to our territory with his men, discussing the marriage to my sister as if it were already settled, laying out plans for merging our operations.
He was testing boundaries, looking for weakness.
"Now," my father said, setting his glass down, "let's discuss routes."
For the next hour, I stood silently as they outlined trafficking corridors, distribution points, profit margins.
Juarez had product—heroin, cocaine, and the new designer drug, Seraphina, that was commanding premium prices on the streets.
My father had transportation networks, shell companies, and corrupt officials on payroll throughout California.
It was a perfect marriage of criminal enterprises. Just like the one they planned for Rhea.
"Of course," Juarez said casually, "once your daughter and I are married, these arrangements will become much more . . . familial." His eyes slid to me as he lifted his chin, almost in a dare. "Though, I wonder if your son fully supports our alliance?"
While my main focus was on Juarez, out of the corner of my eye I saw my father's gaze harden. "My son follows my orders. As does my daughter."
"Good." Juarez leaned forward. "Because I've heard whispers that the young talon has been making moves of his own. Independent thinking can be dangerous in our business."
The room temperature seemed to drop. My father's expression didn't change, but I felt the shift in his energy—the subtle coiling of a predator preparing to strike.
"My son knows his place," my father said softly. "Don't you, Gavriel?"
I met Juarez's eyes directly. "I serve my family's interests. Always."
"Excellent." Juarez smiled again, all teeth. "Then we shouldn't have any problems with our arrangement.”
As the meeting concluded and we escorted Juarez back to his vehicles, he paused beside me on the front steps.
"One more thing, Young Azzaro," he said quietly, just for my ears. "I've heard you've become quite attached to Joel Perkins's daughter. Interesting choice, considering her father's . . . unfortunate end."
My expression remained impassive, but my heart rate accelerated. "Business partnerships require a certain level of trust."
"Indeed." His eyes glinted with amusement. "Just ensure your . . . partnership doesn't conflict with family loyalty. It would be a shame if she met the same fate as her father."