Chapter Thirteen. Asad #2
She can’t hide her self-satisfied smirk or the victorious gleam in her eyes.
I glance at Kareem, who sits in the chair next to her, and he can’t even meet my gaze.
Don Amato and Naoki Sato, who sit next to each other on the right side of the table, calmly stare back at me, their aloof faces revealing nothing.
Malcolm and the other street bosses can’t hide their reluctance to be here.
It’s in the slope of their shoulders, the slight bowing of their heads.
“Well, this is unexpected. And more than a little Machiavellian.” I gesture to Eli and Makeda, silently ordering them to wait by the door.
They nod, and then I walk to the front of the room, my gaze not moving from Michelle’s, hoping she sees just how much she fucked up in my eyes.
I don’t know if she’s the “family” Xavier spoke of, but she’s for damn sure my enemy now. I stop in front of her. “Move.”
That smile falters and she remains still, but when she blinks, staring up at me, and realizes I’m not joking, she scowls and peers around me. As if any of them will help her before I can snap her lying-ass neck.
“Asad, you can’t—”
“I said move.” I lean down until my face hovers directly above hers.
“If you believe I’m about to attend this shit while you stand here and run it like you got my balls in your pocket right next to Marcus’s, you done lost your fucking mind.
But I have no issue helping you find that mu’fucka. ” I straighten. Smile. “Now move.”
She flinches, and her swallow is damn near audible. But she moves. And doesn’t stop until she’s perched on a chair at the other end of the table.
“Now that we’ve straightened that shit out”—I slowly lower onto the chair—“why don’t we get on with why I’m here.”
Don Amato leans forward, setting his clasped hands on the tabletop. “I’m sorry, but I was under the impression that you requested I be here. Me and Naoki both.” He looks at the head of the Yakuza seated to his left. “Isn’t that what you mentioned?”
Naoki glances from Amato to me. “That’s correct. But it sounds like you are as much in the dark as we are.” He shifts his gaze to Michelle, who, wisely, doesn’t meet his perusal.
“I won’t keep any of you long.” Michelle forces a strained smile, ignoring the two family heads’ comments.
Another wise move. It’s one thing to trick me; shit, I’m her son.
But to lie to the head of the Yakuza and Italian mob?
This bitch is loose. “And, son, I apologize for just springing this meeting on you like this. I didn’t have a lot of time when I found out this information. ”
“Is that right?” I prop my elbows on the chair’s arms and rest my chin on my templed hands.
“Yet you found time to call everyone here, but someone couldn’t get to me.
Makes sense.” Her lips part as if about to reply, but then pop closed.
But her eyes definitely tell me to get fucked.
“How about we get on with it since I have a busy schedule and I’m sure everyone else here does, too. You cool, Kareem?”
My brother nods, nerves flashing across his face before he smooths his expression out.
“Yes, Asad. Everything’s good.”
“Good, good.” I rub my hand over my beard. “Glad you got the phone call, too.”
Malcolm side eyes one of the Cross soldiers, and the latter clears his throat. I could give a gotdamn about anyone’s comfort in here.
“Kareem, can you hand your brother the laptop, please?” Michelle waves a hand, and as Kareem removes a computer from his briefcase, she smiles at me.
And it’s sneaky, avaricious. “I was forwarded intel that I couldn’t, in good conscience, hold to myself.
” She rises from her chair and pauses, loving the audience she has.
“As you all know, I lost my husband recently, and I was even more devastated to learn he was murdered.”
Neither Amato nor Naoki appear taken aback by this info, their faces remaining stoic. I’m not shocked that they’re aware. Just like I have my resources, they have theirs as well. Still …
I swallow a bitter chuckle. Michelle talking about Cross business so freely in front of people who aren’t members of the organization is another strike and betrayal. One I could’ve never seen coming. I’ve never seriously considered killing my mother before, but apparently, this is a day of firsts.
Because anyone else wouldn’t even still be standing.
“My hurt was compounded when I discovered this evidence about who’s responsible for Marcus’s death. Kareem.” She addresses my brother, but she’s looking at me, and that dirty glee shines in her eyes.
Dread twists in my stomach, and acid churns there before racing toward my chest. Only strength of will keeps my arm at my side and not rubbing the burning, painful spot. I don’t need to glance down at the laptop screen Kareem turns and angles so I and everyone else in the room can watch.
It’s the video from Marcus’s building.
It’s the video of Ember.
Somehow she located it, and fucking checkmate.
I lower my gaze to the laptop, confirming my suspicion. The lobby of Marcus’s building and Ember, hooded and silent, will walk through those revolving doors in any moment.
My mind whirs as the video plays. Just from the reactions around the room—the fury darkening Malcolm’s face, the whispered “What the fuck?” from the other soldiers, the crime family heads’ reserved but gleaming stares—it’s obvious this won’t just go away.
I can’t sweep this under the rug again. And this was Michelle’s plan all along.
Well fucking played.
I lean back in my chair, fisting my hands on my thighs.
As if feeling their scrutiny on me from the back of the room, I look up, meeting Eli’s and Makeda’s gazes.
Eli subtly shakes his head, and Makeda glares at the back of Michelle’s head as if she’s envisioning holding her gun to it and pulling the trigger.
Kareem leans forward, tapping the keyboard. Initially, no one speaks, but that doesn’t last long. Michelle flattens her hands on the table and leans forward.
“I apologize for the subterfuge, but not only am I a widow who loved her husband, I’m also a mother who’s willing to do whatever it requires to protect her son and family from being used by a conniving, murderous whore.”
“Watch that shit, Michelle. Don’t let that mouth write a check that I’m willing to cash,” I warn, flipping my jacket back and revealing my holstered guns.
“Are you seriously sitting here threatening your own mother?” Malcolm snaps. “Especially when she just showed us irrefutable proof of your fiancée murdering your stepfather?”
I slowly turn my head, silently staring Marcus’s former enforcer down. By the nature of his former position, he’s about violence, retribution, protection. So I get his anger, but I’m not Marcus. I’m something altogether different.
“Yes, I did threaten her, and I can easily include you in that group if you don’t watch who you’re coming at. You might want to take that fucking bass out your voice when talking to me.”
Malcolm’s face tightens, and next to him, the other three soldiers stir in their seats. One of them, a dark-skinned, middle-aged man with graying dreads, squeezes Malcolm’s shoulder.
“We’re all upset, understandably, and I’m sure Malcolm didn’t mean any disrespect,” he says.
I think his name is Greg. “But with all respect, this video answers who killed Marcus. What other reason would Ember have to be there that night? Why didn’t we see her come back into the camera’s frame?
And as a scientist who designs drugs for Cross, she, more than anyone, would not only be able to gain access to Marcus but also be able to shoot him up.
” He sighs, holding his hands up, palms out.
“The evidence is damning and clear. So it just leaves us one question. Prince, what do you plan to do about that?”
“That? Meaning my fiancée?” I arch an eyebrow, deliberately not addressing every valid and truthful argument he made. Fear for Ember lodges between my ribs, threatening to snap them in half.
Michelle laughs, and it’s caustic, bitter. “You cannot be serious. You’re still claiming that bi—”
“You got one more time.” I cut my eyes at Michelle.
“We’re going to talk about this video, but if you can’t stop calling her out her name, then sit there and don’t say shit.
When you disrespect her, you disrespect me.
And we both know I don’t handle that well.
So the decision is yours. Choose wisely. ”
We engage in a visual war, humiliation flickering over her face, in her eyes.
“Fine,” she snaps. “But the point is Ember killed Marcus, the head of this organization. It’s the worst and most unforgivable sin to commit.
Not to mention, only other bosses can sanction the taking of a life of another boss.
So she broke not only the rule of the Cross family, which is punishable by death, but also the biggest one in our world. A life for a life.”
And this right here is why she invited these particular witnesses. Marcus’s enforcer, who would gladly avenge his death. Greg and other soldiers to attest to the crime. Don Amato and Naoki to verify the cardinal law in the underworld was broken.
She’s outmaneuvered me.
Hatred for my mother seethes beneath my skin, poisoning my blood until it seems to replace it.
Most mothers would protect their sons, support them, seek to help them in any way they could.
But not Michelle Prince Cross. She walked in here with one goal—to undermine me, to embarrass me, and to trap me.
Her loathing for Ember weighs more than her love for me.
And when it comes down to the choice between revenge and abuse or the love of her son … there is no choice.
After years of watching her operate, after seeing how she betrayed, destroyed, and eventually killed my dad, I shouldn’t be surprised by her actions. And yet, I sit here with a hole in my chest, slowly bleeding out at her final betrayal.