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“If you’ve got your wunderkind on the job, what is this early-ass meeting for, then?”
“To discuss the launch date. I want to bring it forward.”
“What?” Gedeon yelps. “Do you think we’re ready?”
“We need to make a show of strength and prove that nothing can stop the Bratva. I’ve got a new wife, a baby on the way, and a new business venture that’s going to give us the liquor industry on a silver platter. Alessandro Calcagno isn’t gonna know what hit him.”
“Especially if you strike at the crack of dawn,” Gedeon says. “He’s probably still asleep.”
As we get closer to the building, I notice how often Ged’s phone is buzzing. He keeps checking it, snickering, and tapping out responses. He isn’t talking to me, so I don’t care what he’s doing. I’m just grateful for a silent car ride.
“Gotta hand it to you,” Gedeon remarks as I pull into the parking lot. “Your girl’s funny.”
I stomp on the brake so hard that he almost goes flying into the dashboard.
“Hey! Hot coffee here.”
“You’re texting Laila?”
“Yeah. She sends great memes.”
I grind my teeth together, resisting the urge to rip the phone out of Gedeon’s hand so I can read their texts. Age and experience have helped me develop some measure of control over the more impulsive tendencies of my personality. Incarceration helped, too.
But I still can’t stop myself from asking, “What’s she doing up at this hour?”
“She’s doing an early morning yoga session with some physical therapist, I think. Last night was too much for her. I told her those shoes were a terrible idea, but did she listen? Nooo, sir, she did not.”
“You knew they’d bother her?” I slam to a rough stop in the parking space, and Gedeon hisses as more coffee sloshes over his chin.
I don’t apologize as I climb out of the car and charge into the building.
Gedeon hustles along behind me, dabbing at the mess on his face. “She can’t do high heels. She knows that, but she wore them anyway.”
Laila may have known that—but how the fuck did Gedeon?
“Why didn’t you or Dominik say anything?”
“We did, but she insisted on wearing them. She said it was ‘part of her costume.’” He snorts.
Nothing about this is funny to me, though.
We get into an elevator, and the three people already inside promptly get out. Smart move on their part.
The doors close and the elevator crawls up the floors, beeping merrily as we pass each one. Gedeon stands opposite me, looking very punchable.
“Not toher.” I’m furious that I even have to explain myself. “Why didn’t you say anything tome? Next time you know something is going to cause her discomfort, I should be informed.”
Which is necessary, because I don’t already know.
Because you might know my wife better than I do.
He sighs. “I mean, I can do that… but she’ll pull a hissy fit if we come to you.”
I arch a brow. “Do I look like I give a fuck?”
“Says the man who's never been on the receiving end of her attitude,” he says. “It ain’t pretty.”
Luckily for Gedeon, the elevator doors open with one final chime. I fly out, ready to bury my head in business and forget all about my wife, who seems to have a better relationship with my closestvorythan she does with me.
