55. Can’t Help Falling
CAN’T HELP FALLING
“Idon’t like him,” Malcolm states.
I sigh, reaching for the bottle to refill my glass. “You don’t have to like him. You have to answer his calls and show up to meetings.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“You should.”
“You left. If your family wanted to keep doing business”—he lifts his glass, gesturing to me forcefully enough that some vodka sloshes over the rim—“if they considered me important enough to continue a partnership, then you”—another aggressive gesture—“would still be the one I dealt with. You left; I’m looking elsewhere. It’s business, Lev.”
Shit.
“You’ve benefited too,” I remind him. “Before we started working together, you were doing well. Since we started working together, you—”
“I’ve seen the numbers. You impressed me, and I do not impress easily. I would have stayed if you had.”
“The agreement was between you and my family. Not you and me.”
“I did not meet with your family. I met with you.”
I refill my glass again. We might need a second bottle at this rate. I thought showing my face and reminding Malcolm of his gains would be enough to reassure him. I had no idea how close he was to walking away.
“I put ten fucking years into building this operation, Malcolm. So did you. You’re really willing to blow it all to bits because I got sick of flying from Russia every few months? The only thing that’s changed is—”
“What did you do to Nico Morello’s fiancée?”
I bristle at Carina being referred to that way, so I take a sip rather than answering right away. Meanwhile, my mind races, trying to recall everything I know about Malcolm’s connections and how they might merge with Italian interests.
“Nothing she did not ask me to.”
Malcolm refills his glass as well, then reclines in his chair with a smirk. We’re out on the patio of his Winnetka home, beside a pool that reminds me of Carina. This entire city reminds me of Carina. She is Chicago to me.
“He claims you abducted her.”
“You spoke to him?”
“Not directly. There have been rumors.”
“There are always rumors,” I state. “Morello is misinformed.”
“He’s not the only one saying that. So, tell me, what am I to believe?”
“What I told you.”
“You got married?”
I exhale. Discussing Carina in a business setting feels wrong. But the main point of marrying her was so she had the protection of my name. That will only work if it’s well known that she’s my wife.
“Yes. I married Morello’s fiancée.”
“Why?”
I tilt my chin arrogantly. “Because I fucking wanted to.”
“That answer doesn’t make me trust you.”
“You already trust me. That’s why we’re talking next to your second kitchen at the house you actually live in, not a neutral location.”
“It’s an outdoor entertainment center.”
I glance at the fridge, sink, and gas grill. “Looks like a kitchen. An expensive kitchen in an expensive house that I helped you afford. I don’t owe you anything. I overdelivered on everything I promised, Malcolm.”
“You did. And now lots of people want to work with me.”
“Loyalty matters as much as money.”
“Says the man who married a woman who was already engaged.”
“That arrangement was between Salvatore Caruso and Nico Morello. She wanted a choice. I gave her one.”
“For nothing in exchange?”
“I got plenty out of it.”
“What?”
“Her.”
Malcolm laughs and sips, not taking my answer seriously.
The man has obviously never been in love.
That thought prompts a spurt of panic I’m careful not to show.
Because what the fuck? I care about Carina—a lot.
There isn’t a single aspect of my life that hasn’t been upended in her interest. There’s no one else I would make that sort of sacrifice for.
And I didn’t do it because of debt or out of obligation.
I did it because I wanted to. But that doesn’t mean I’m in love with her. Does it?
“You’re worried I handed things over to Adrian to screw you over? It didn’t have a damn thing to do with you, Malcolm. I wanted to spend more time with my wife.”
For the first time all evening, Malcolm is silent.
We caught up for a while before I steered the conversation to business since I hadn’t been to Chicago since the winter.
We’re friends, of a sort, I suppose, although I don’t have enough of those to make a sure assessment.
Whatever we are, it’s secondary to profit.
Finally, Malcolm drains his glass and sets it down.
“I’ll meet you and the replacement for dinner tomorrow night.
If he impresses me, I’ll stay. None of the you’ll never notice Lev left or nothing will change bullshit.
I want a clear strategy for further expansion. And a five percent bump in my share.”
My jaw works. Neither is an unreasonable request. Both are smart asks on his part. I wouldn’t have flown all the way here if we wanted to cut ties on our end.
Adrian is experienced and competent. But he’s a soldier, trained to take orders.
He came to Chicago to take over an existing operation, not reinvent a better and bigger version.
Part of why Malcolm and I worked well together was that I was looking for an ambitious project.
I’d spent my teenage years in a strict hierarchy that kept me secondary to my father and Aleksandr. Coming here elevated me to being in charge.
I was hungry to prove myself. Then I met Carina, and Chicago became even more appealing.
I finish my drink and set it down beside his. It’s after midnight, and I apparently have a lot of strategizing to discuss with Adrian tomorrow.
Before I stand to leave, I remind Malcolm, “I don’t negotiate for nothing. You’d better bring something new to the table too.”
He nods an acknowledgment before I head for the exit.
“Congratulations on the wedding,” he calls after me.