Chapter 33
EVERLEIGH
I know something important has happened the second Dante walks through the penthouse doors.
His jacket has blood splattered faintly across the front and his expression’s tight in a way I don’t like, jaw clenched like he’s been grinding his teeth for the last hour.
My stomach immediately tightens.
The front door barely shuts behind him before he’s crossing the foyer toward me. I stand up from the couch automatically, the book in my lap falling forgotten onto the cushions beside me.
“What happened?”
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, one of his hands grips my jaw firmly before he kisses me hard enough to completely steal the breath from my lungs.
The force of it catches me off guard.
It’s rough and frustrated, almost desperate all at once, like he needed to touch me before saying whatever came next. I grip the front of his jacket instinctively while kissing him back, tasting whiskey, smoke, and blood on his mouth.
Then he pulls back just enough for his forehead to briefly rest against mine. “We figured out who it is.”
Every muscle in my body stiffens. “What?”
His dark eyes lock onto mine. “We know who put the hit on Marco.”
My pulse jumps so high that I can feel it in my throat.
“Who?”
Something changes in his face. “I need to talk to Gabriel first.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “Dante-”
“Just give me a few minutes.”
“But-”
I see my father’s office door suddenly open behind Dante.
He steps out wearing one of his usual black button-down shirts with the sleeves rolled up slightly. His eyes move between Dante and I once.
Dante straightens immediately afterward. “We need to talk.”
My father studies Dante’s expression for a second before giving a small nod toward the office and stepping back inside.
Dante follows him and then lingers near the doorway for a moment, his dark eyes finding mine almost immediately.
He watches me for a second too long.
Something shifts quietly between us in that moment, something heavy enough that it makes my stomach tighten, but I can’t fully figure out what it is before he finally turns away and follows my father into the office.
I stand there staring at the office door for a few seconds before my body starts moving on its own.
Slowly and carefully, I move closer to the door.
Through the hallway wall, their voices are muffled.
I take a few steps closer and lean slightly into the door, finally hearing them clearly.
“It’s Armani.”
My brows immediately pull together.
Inside the office, silence hangs for a second before my father finally speaks.
“That low-life politician. I should’ve known better.”
Ice slowly starts spreading through my chest.
I hear glass clink softly against wood like my father just poured himself a drink.
“What about Marco?” he asks casually.
Of course he told my father.
I don’t even know why a small part of me expected otherwise.
Dante automatically replies. “He didn’t do it.”
My father sighs.
“I assumed so. Though, he’s become a problem regardless.”
My stomach drops instantly.
Inside the office, Dante speaks again. “Sir-”
“Look at what’s already happening,” my father interrupts smoothly.
“The Russians went after him because they knew he was an easy target.” He exhales heavily, as if this entire situation is just another inconvenience sitting on his desk.
“Armani wanted information about our family. I gave him too much to work with.”
Something cold starts climbing up my spine.
No.
No, no, no.
“He’s unstable, addicted and absolutely reckless.” My father’s voice stays calm the entire time. “He contributes nothing to this family except complications.”
I feel my pulse starting to roar in my ears now.
Dante must feel it too because his voice hardens immediately afterward.
“Gabriel.”
But my father just keeps talking like he’s discussing business inventory instead of his own fucking son.
“He’s a waste of space,” he says flatly. “And now he’s become a liability.”
The realization slams into me so hard it almost knocks the air from my lungs.
He wants Marco dead.
I stand frozen outside the office door while rage starts building so fast inside my chest it feels physically painful.
Inside the room, Dante tries again, quieter this time.
“But sir-”
“Take care of him.”
The words hit like a bullet straight through my chest.
“We’ll deal with Armani afterward,” my father continues. “But Marco’s existence is already creating fractures inside the family business. The Sidorovs simply exposed what was already there.”
I can barely breathe anymore.
To him, Marco’s just another loose end.
Just like Mom was.
The realization settles into my chest slowly while I stand there outside the office listening to my father order Marco’s death like he’s discussing what to have for dinner.
Suddenly every excuse I’ve ever made for him starts shattering inside my head.
The way he reacted after Mom died.
The distance he kept from us.
The coldness he displayed.
The way he buried himself in the business before she was even in the ground.
I spent years convincing myself grief just looked different on him.
That maybe loving somebody didn’t always have to look a certain way.
But this?
It’s selfishness.
Pure fucking selfishness.
None of us are really his children to him.
We’re assets.
Pieces on a chessboard he’s willing to sacrifice the second the game gets difficult.
I force myself away from the office door before they can walk out and catch me standing there listening.
My heartbeat still pounds violently in my ears while I move back across the penthouse toward the living room, but I keep my expression blank the entire time.
Years around Gabriel Genovese taught me one thing very well.
Hide your reaction first, fall apart later.
I sit back down onto the sectional and pick my book back up off the cushion beside me, eyes immediately locking onto the same paragraph I’ve already reread at least six times tonight.
My grip tightens slightly around the book.
Marco’s an asshole and is extremely self-destructive.
But he’s still my brother.
Our father just signed his death warrant without hesitating for even a second.
I’m not sure what to do, but I know Dante and I will figure this out.
We have to.