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Father eyes Renzo with a look that could quell any man’s madness – any man but Renzo, who seems to thrive on the chaos and disorder he brings wherever he goes.
“Elio was just leaving,” Father says calmly, his voice even and controlled. “Discuss it with him outside.”
Renzo shoots me a wild grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and jerks his head toward the door, urging me to follow him. I rise from my seat without another word, tucking away the concern that claws at my insides like a restless beast. If I’m going to get the information Father wants, Renzo needs to stay the fuck out of this and let me handle it my way.
Once we’re clear of Father’s suffocating office, Renzo slings an arm around my shoulder. His energy is infectious despite the uncertainty of my task and the weight of responsibility that rests upon my shoulders.
“So? Spill it,” he demands, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
I shake off his arm and walk down the hall toward my room. “He wants me to cozy up to Camila Aguilar at Crystal Lake,” I mutter.
Renzo whistles appreciatively. “The cartel princess herself? This should be fun.”
His excitement starkly contrasts the dread in the pit of my stomach. It’s not the task that worries me, but rather the challenge of keeping Renzo from scaring the girl off with his impulsive and often reckless behavior.
“Fun isn’t the word I’d use.” I pause at my door and face him squarely. “Keep your head on straight with this one, Renzo. We can’t afford your usual antics, not when so much is at stake.”
His smirk doesn’t falter as he taps his temple mockingly, a gesture that only fuels my growing frustration. “All part of the charm, brother,” he says, his voice dripping with confidence and self-assurance.
“It’s best if you keep your hands to yourself and let me get close to her.” I push open my bedroom door, eager to escape the tension that hangs heavy in the air between us.
Renzo lingers in the hallway, a frown deeply furrowing his brows.“What’s with the tight leash, Elio? Since when do you call the shots on who I can and can’t touch?”
I turn to face him. “This isn’t a game. Father wants us to stop the Aguilars, not start a war because you couldn’t keep her in one piece or control your impulses.”
Renzo’s eyes narrow, a flicker of anger passing through them like lightning in a storm, a warning of the tempest that lurks beneath the surface. “And you think sweet-talking their princess will keep us out of a war? Come on, Elio. You’re smarter than that.”
“It’s about information, not indulgence,” I counter. “I’ll handle Camila. You back me up and keep your distance. Let me do what needs to be done.”
The standoff stretches between us, two predators sizing each other up, each unwilling to back down. Finally, Renzo scoffs and takes a step back, a small concession. “Fine, but I’m not your lapdog. If I get bored, I find my own fun and distractions.”
“Find it away from Camila,” I snap, my patience wearing thin.
The tension is still thick, a palpable force that threatens to suffocate us both, when Dante’s voice cuts through it like a knife, sharp and precise. “You two ready to leave yet?” he asks.
Renzo turns to Dante as he approaches, his smirk returning as if our confrontation had been a brotherly spat.
Renzo leans against the wall, arms crossed, a smug look on his face that I know all too well. “Pops handed us a job. We’re supposed to get cozy with the Aguilar princess and work our magic to extract the information we need.”
I roll my eyes, annoyance prickling under my skin like a rash. “Father gave me the job. Not us. I’m the one who’s supposed to handle this, to get close to Camila and gain her trust.”
Dante’s dark eyes flick between us, unphased by our back-and-forth. He’s always a mediator between us. “I know about it. My father mentioned your new assignment last night and wanted me to be aware of the situation.”
I glance at Dante, grateful for his steady presence and the way he always seems to know what to say to diffuse Renzo’s reckless energy without much effort.
“So you’re in on this too?” Renzo asks, pushing off the wall and stepping toward Dante.
Dante shakes his head, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “Not directly. My old man wants me to watch things from a distance. Make sure you two don’t screw this up, don’t let your egos get in the way of what needs to be done.”
I nod, trusting Dante’s judgment far more than Renzo’s impulsiveness. I know he has our best interests at heart.
Renzo snorts and shoves his hands into his pockets, a picture of nonchalance. “As if we need a babysitter, someone to hold our hands and make sure we play nice.”
“Think of me more as backup,” Dante replies with a half-smile, a gesture of his unwavering loyalty and support. “Someone to watch your backs and make sure things go smoothly.”
Backup sounds about right—someone to fall back on when Renzo inevitably tries to light the fuse too early. My brother’s impulsiveness is both his strength and weakness, but I won’t allow him to derail this mission.
“So what’s the play?” Dante asks, directing the question at me.
