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Enzo’s eyes skirt over his copy of the contract he brought to the table. “You’ll get sixty percent; I’ll get forty. A gesture of good faith.”
“It looks more like a peace offering for your late father’s treachery.”
He concedes my point with a quick nod. “Call it what you like. The bottom line is that you’ll get the lion’s share of both the territory and the profit it generates.”
“Iamthe lion, Enzo. It serves to reason that I would get the lion’s share. You’re not giving me anything that isn’t rightfully mine.”
His throat bobs. “I have vested interests in that territory, too, Arsen. I can’t just concede the entire thing to you.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
I keep my gaze fixed on him until he buckles. “Seventy-thirty, then,” he offers, his voice shaking. “That’s more than fair.”
I incline my head. “I can live with that.”
“Excellent. Then it’s a deal.” He lets out a long-repressed sigh. “That brings us to the next order of business: Pobeda.” He must see my immediate displeasure, because he rushes to clarify, “I’m asking for no more than sales rights. I want to be able to stock and sell your brand in my clubs and restaurants.”
“That would make Pobeda the only non-Italian brand to be sold on Calcagno properties.”
“A great honor.”
“For whom?” I smile sharply. “Pobeda is an exclusive brand. Allowing you to sell it would be akin to declaring to the world that we’re allies.”
He tilts his head to the side, the incandescent lightbulbs of the speakeasy glinting off his greased black hair. “Well, aren’t we?”
“That’s optimistic of you.”
Enzo steeples his fingers and leans toward me. “My father had a different agenda than I do. He wanted to disrupt the status quo, to cause chaos. but I can be of help to you. I have more to offer you than just money and territory, Arsen.”
I search his face for a long time, but I find nothing to distrust. In the end, I agree. “I’ll put you in touch with my distributor after we’ve signed on the dotted line.”
Enzo’s mouth splits into a satisfied smile. “Wonderful. Then we’re in agreement?”
I glance down at the contract, stretching out the pause just to make Enzo squirm a little. “We’re in agreement.”
He extends his hand to me. “This is great news. I want to celebrate. With dinner. Both of our families should be there.”
I bite back a grimace.
Laila is barely tolerating the fact I exist. Parading around like we’re a happily married couple is definitively off the table. I have a better chance of convincing Polina to let her hair down and do the Irish jig on my bar counter.
But the last thing I want to do is rouse suspicions in my new ally that I can’t manage my own home.
“My wife is in mourning, Enzo. I’ll have to see if she’s feeling up to it.”
And if she’s willing to share my air for a few hours.
His expression falls. “I was so sorry to hear about her mother’s passing. Please convey my deepest sympathies to your wife.”
I acknowledge that with a simple nod of my head. I won’t waste time trying to explain exactly what Marie took with her into the next life.
“As far as the dinner goes, this will be a long-lasting alliance. We have time. The important thing is that we’re in agreement about our mutual interests,” Enzo continues. “And since we are… I have something I need to tell you.”
Fuck.I can smell bad news coming from a mile away. “Testing the limits of my patience so soon?”
“Strengthening it, I hope.” He clears his throat. “It’s about the hit… on your wife.”
Everything in me stretches taut. “Reminding me of the hit your father ordered seconds after we’ve shaken hands isn’t a sign of trust—it’s stupidity.”
