The Marriage Debt (De Vos Mafia #2)(20)

“Of course,” the partner says. “I’m eager to negotiate the terms of our agreement.”

We walk to our seats in this high-end restaurant on the top floor of the building. My father rented out the entire place for this deal. It’s not every day we get to circumvent the Baas family’s connections.

“I assume everything is going as planned?” my father says as we sit down, and the server brings us a bottle of their most expensive wine.

“Yes, we’ve received your donation and are moving along with the shipment,” he responds as the server fills up our glasses. My father shoos him away. “But the Baas family will not be thrilled.”

“Baas has offered you too little for the hard work you do,” my father responds. “You deserve what we have to offer.”

The man takes a couple of sips from his wine. “And I’m sure you’ll gladly take the fall should things go south.” He eyes us both while leaning back in his seat.

I clear my throat and sit up straight. “We can handle the Baas family. You bring us the goods we need, and we’ll deal with the rest.”

The man looks at both of us and takes another sip. “I admit, I have had my doubts.”

“No need. I have it covered,” I respond. “The Baas family owes me.”

The man narrows his eyes at me. “You sure have some balls jumping in for your father like that.”

“And I thought you were smarter than to insult a potential business partner.”

We stare each other down.

I know he thinks he’s dealing with my father.

But my father did not bring me here.

I brought him here.

Suddenly, the man erupts into laughter, and the tension is broken. “I’m just messing with you. Don’t worry.”

I nod, uninterested in his clear taunts. “Shall we discuss business?”

The man clears his throat and picks up his wine. “Right. Let’s get on with it.”



When the deal is made and the man has left, my father and I take a break on the restaurant's balcony. With a tumbler filled with rum, I lean over the edge and stare out into the beauty of the cityscape.

“You did well in there,” my father says, and he pats me on the back. “I’m proud of you, boy.”

“Thanks,” I reply even though it does nothing for me.

I used to vie for his attention and try to steal it away from my brother. Good or bad behavior, I didn’t care as long as he looked at me. But now, all I feel is resentment. Every compliment is doused in regret. As if he begrudges the fact that I’m not my brother and he’ll have to be content with that. And it made me hate him and hate myself for wanting his approval.

But I’ve learned along the way that not giving a shit is much easier than caring. Ignoring any emotions I have is the only way to get what I want: Power.

“I mean it,” my father adds, taking a sip of his wine.

The proud look on his face catches me off guard.

“What?” I laugh.

“It’s not every day I see my son take control.” He smiles. “And to think you were such a troubled teen before.”

I roll my eyes and look away. This is exactly what I mean with the offhand comments.

“Luca, I know you never liked me because I chose your brother over you,” he adds. “But your brother isn’t here anymore, and you’ve stepped up by becoming the man I always dreamed he’d be.”

He thinks it’s a compliment, but it’s not. Far from it.

Suddenly, he coughs in a violent manner, and when I look, he’s already pulled out a napkin. I watch him heave and cough something up. He hides it in the napkin, clearly afraid of what it means when he shows the truth. When our family appears weak.

But there’s an obvious red stain.

Blood.

The blood of someone whose life is waning day by day.

The look he gives me deepens, darkens in a way that only happens when he’s serious about something. When he’s not afraid to show his cards to get his way.

Because we both know what this means.

What the consequence is when the leader of a family gets deadly sick.

With all the vultures outside, waiting and watching for any sign of distress.

Any sign of weakness.

It’s our greatest downfall.

“The business cannot fail. Our family depends on it. You must take over,” he says. “It’s time.”

I nod, glugging down the rest of the rum with ease, and I throw the glass over the balcony into the water. “I’m ready.”

“I know you are,” he says, stepping closer while clutching the railing. “But you have to understand the risks.”

I laugh. “I know the risks. We’re mobsters.”

He clutches my shoulder. “Stop joking. This is serious business.”

His voice has me on edge, a sliver of me contemplating whether or not I’ll shout back. But what’s the point? He doesn’t care.

“We cannot fail. This is our family name and legacy on the line,” he says. “You must succeed and bring the Baas family to their knees. For all the hurt they’ve caused this family. Destroy them or make them surrender.”

I nod, and he clutches the nape of my neck like he always did in the small moments he was actually content. He sighs and looks out over the horizon again. “Oh, if only your brother could’ve seen you now. He’d be proud.”