Chapter 15
Fifteen
Drake
My brother has always had impeccable timing for ruining my day.
The meeting request came three days ago, delivered through official channels like we're strangers instead of men who shared a mother.
Jonah wants to discuss a "business opportunity.
" Needs my connections at the docks to facilitate some kind of import arrangement.
The details were vague enough to raise every red flag I have, but refusing would only delay the inevitable.
He saw us. At the restaurant last week. I caught his reflection in the window as we were leaving, his face twisted with something between shock and rage as he watched me help Katriana into the car.
Watched my hand settle possessively on her lower back.
Watched her lean into me like she belonged there.
Because she does. She belongs with me. And my brother can choke on that truth until he hits the grave.
I've been expecting this confrontation. Part of me has been looking forward to it.
Jonah arrives at Redthorne Holdings at two o'clock sharp, which is unusual for him. He's always been careless with other people's time, assuming the world will wait for him because Drake Moses's little brother has never had to wait for anything in his life.
I made sure of that. Paid for his private schools. His college tuition. His first apartment, his first car, his entry-level position at a firm that owed me favors. Everything Jonah has, I gave him.
And he's hated me for every kindness.
Kon escorts him to the conference room on the thirty-second floor.
I watch through the security feed as my brother settles into a chair, his posture radiating the entitled arrogance that's always made my teeth grind.
He's wearing a suit that costs more than most people's monthly rent, his dark hair styled with the kind of careful carelessness that takes an hour to achieve.
He looks like me. That's what people always say. The same strong jaw, the same broad shoulders, the same intensity in the eyes. But where my edges have been sharpened by decades of fighting my way up from nothing, Jonah's have been softened by a lifetime of having everything handed to him.
He's thirty-four years old and he's never had to struggle for anything.
Except Katriana. She was the one thing he couldn't buy or charm or manipulate into his bed. And when she refused to give him what he wanted, he punished her for it. Called her frigid. Cheated on her. Made her feel broken for having boundaries.
I've wanted to break his face for three years.
Today might be the day I finally do.
I take my time walking to the conference room. Let him wait. Let him stew in the silence and wonder if I'm going to show at all. By the time I push through the glass doors, Jonah's knee is bouncing with barely contained agitation.
"Brother." I take the seat across from him, not at the head of the table where I usually sit. I want to be close enough to watch every microexpression cross his face. "You said you had a business proposition."
"I do." He slides a folder across the table. "Import operation. Goods coming through the eastern docks. I need your connections to smooth the customs process."
I flip open the folder and scan the contents. Shipping manifests. Port schedules. A list of container numbers. The documentation looks legitimate on the surface, but something about it makes my instincts prickle with warning.
"What kind of goods?" I don’t dirty my hands for just anyone. Especially people I don’t trust. Brother or not.
"Luxury items. High-end electronics, designer merchandise. The kind of things that attract unwanted attention from customs officials who think they deserve a bigger cut."
"And you came to me because..."
"Because you own the docks." Jonah's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Because nothing moves through this city without your people touching it, brother. Because despite everything, we're still family."
The word family lands like a punch. I set down the folder and study my brother's face, looking for the angle I know is hiding beneath the surface.
"Who are you working with?"
"Independent investors. People who want to make money without the bureaucratic hassle."
"Names." Coldness slides through my veins.
"Confidential." His jaw tightens. "I'm not asking you to get involved directly. Just make a few calls. Ensure the shipments don't get flagged for inspection is all. Simple and your company can take ten percent."
I lean back in my chair. The request is dirty, but not unusually so for the circles Jonah has always aspired to run in.
What bothers me is the timing. The desperation beneath his polished exterior he’s putting on for my benefit.
The way his eyes keep flicking to the door like he's expecting someone to walk through it.
"I'll need to verify the cargo," I say slowly. "My people will inspect the first shipment before I make any calls. That’s all I can offer." I’m not about to expose my throat for him.
Frustration flickers across Jonah's face.
My brother nervously taps the table with the side of his thumb. "That won't be possible. My partners value their privacy. The containers stay closed."
Christ. This man doesn’t get it. My jaw tightens and my answer is immediate.
"Then we don't have a deal, Jonah. This is done my way or not at all." I have no idea who he’s gotten in bed with. If I do shady deals and walk among the dirtiest of Chicago’s underworld, my brother slithers among the filthy of the shadows.
I have limits. My brother does not. Because of our differences, I refuse to put Redthorne Holdings at risk.
Jonah's composure cracks. Just a fraction.
Just enough for me to see the rage simmering beneath the polished surface.
A muscle ticks in his jaw. His nostrils flare with a breath he fights to control.
His fingers curl at his sides, knuckles blanching white against the expensive fabric of his trousers.
"You always do this." His voice drips with bitterness. "Make me jump through hoops. Prove myself over and over while you sit on your throne and judge who gets to live and thrive or who dies."
"I built this throne with my own hands while you were still learning to walk.
Don't talk to me about proving yourself. How the fuck do you think I got to where I am? By doing the same damn thing. No one gave me anything. I had to prove to everyone I was worth taking a risk for. It’s about damn time I demand the same from you. "
The old argument rises between us like a wall. I've heard these grievances a thousand times. Poor Jonah, living in his brother's shadow. Poor Jonah, never good enough no matter how hard he tries. Poor Jonah, convinced the world owes him something simply because he exists.
I'm tired of this conversation. But I'm not tired enough to miss the opportunity I've been waiting for. I know why he’s here. This conversation is only happening because of Katriana.
I pull out my phone and send a text.
Come to conference room 32 please.
Jonah watches me with narrowed eyes. "What are you doing?"
"Calling in my assistant. If we're going to discuss import logistics, I'll need someone to take notes. You’re going to give me the details of what is in those containers and then we are going to get down to business.
I want you to succeed but if you are going to use my connections, everything has to be above board with me.
Dirty deals don't happen between brothers. Got it."
It's a lie. Katriana has nothing to do with dock operations. But I want Jonah to see her. I need him to understand she’s under my protection now.
I want him to watch her walk into this room looking confident and beautiful and utterly at ease in my world.
I want him to understand exactly what he threw away and how Katriana has bloomed under my care.
Petty? Perhaps. But I've never claimed to be above pettiness when it comes to my brother.
The minutes stretch. Jonah's agitation grows. He keeps glancing at the folder between us, at the door, at his phone. Whatever this deal really is, he needs it badly. Which means his "independent investors" have him by the throat.
Good. Let him squirm. The deeper in the shit he is, the more he will slip up. If he doesn’t want to clue me in on what is going on, fine. He’ll have to sooner or later.
The door opens, and Katriana steps inside. She has her eyes down reading something on her phone and has failed to read the room.
“Sorry it took me a minute to get here. I was finishing up helping Kon with typing up a contract.”
I wave off her concerns. “It’s fine.”
She's wearing a navy dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, her honey-streaked hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders.
Her glasses frame those brown eyes that have haunted my dreams for three years.
She looks professional, polished, and completely at home in the halls of Redthorne Holdings.
She looks like she belongs here. With me.
"How can I be of assistance, Mr. Moses?"
The formality is for Jonah's benefit. In private, she calls me Drake. Sometimes she calls me other things entirely, her voice breathy with pleasure as I worship her body with my mouth.
"Yes. Have a seat. We're discussing an import proposal."
Katriana moves toward the table, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She's almost to her chair when she finally looks at the other person in the room.
She freezes.
The color drains from her face. Her hand grips the back of the chair like she needs it to stay upright.
"Jonah." Her voice cracks.
His name comes out choked, strangled by emotions I can only imagine. Fear. Anger. The ghost of old wounds that never fully healed would be my guess.
My brother rises slowly from his seat. His eyes rake over Katriana with a possessiveness that makes my fists clench.
"Kat." His voice is soft, almost tender, and it makes my skin crawl. "You look... different."