The Tyrant (Banker #3)(66)

“But he won’t do it.”

“He may just need some time. Is he a good father?”

I smiled when I pictured him with Martina. “The best.”

“Then he’ll come around. He just wants to come to this decision on his own—his own terms. Makes it feel like less of a sacrifice.”

“It’s been almost two weeks, and he hasn’t done that already…” It’d been the longest two weeks of my life. I kept waiting for him to walk through the door so he could take us back home, but he never did. I expected phone calls in the middle of the night, telling me he loved me and missed me. But that didn’t happen either.

Crow was quiet.

“I know this is probably a lot to ask…but would you mind talking to him?”

Crow didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But maybe hearing this story from another powerful man will make him see reason.”

“He might just shoot me.”

“Not if I’m there. He would never hurt you if I asked him not to.”

He still didn’t give me an answer.

“I know you said you didn’t want to be involved in anything—”

“I’ll do it. I couldn’t help you before, but I can help with you this. It’s just a conversation, right?”

I stared at the bathroom wall while a feeling of hope exploded inside my chest. “Thank you…so much.”





25





Cato





Bates stepped inside my open door. “Talk to her yet?”

I kept my eyes on my laptop. “You already know the answer.”

“Then let me rephrase it. When are you going to talk to her?”

“Bates.” I said his name in a warning tone. “Just butt out.”

“I’m your brother. It’s my responsibility to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. And that goes both ways.”

“You’re being stupid right now.”

He stepped back into the hall and gestured to someone. “There’s a few people here to see you.”

“Who?”

A tall man with dark brown hair stepped inside. With hazel eyes, tanned skin, and in black jeans and a matching shirt, he looked familiar right away. He was a man in his late fifties, but he moved like he was in his early twenties. He approached my desk, holding my gaze like he wasn’t afraid of me—but he wasn’t hostile either.

Siena walked in behind him, beautiful in a deep blue sundress and a yellow cardigan. Martina wasn’t with her. She looked slightly guilty for ambushing me, but she didn’t apologize for it.

I was angry with her, but it was hard not to love her when she looked so beautiful. Her hair was curled the way I liked, and she wore the bracelet I gave to her for Christmas. She stood beside the man I didn’t know. “Cato, this is Crow Barsetti…a friend of mine.”

Crow didn’t reach out his hand to shake my hand. Most men who stepped into this office immediately kissed my ass, but he didn’t bother with the practice. He gave a slight nod of acknowledgment.

I finally took my eyes off Siena to really look at Crow. “We’ve met before.”

“But it’s been almost ten years.” He lowered himself into the armchair and crossed his legs. “I hear you’re a fan of my wine.”

“I am.” I looked at Siena again, not understanding the purpose of this meeting.

She sat beside him. “You and Crow have a lot in common. I thought he could tell you his life story…and maybe it would resonate with you.”

I remembered she’d mentioned him recently, that he gave up his life in crime for a simple one in the countryside. He did it to protect his family, and now she wanted him to talk me into doing the same thing. The gesture annoyed me. “You think I give a damn what this man has to say? That’s his life—not mine.”

“Could you just listen?” she asked quietly. “It’s the least you could since I saved your life.”

She threw that in my face every chance she got. “Fine. But I want to talk to him alone.”

Siena stiffened at the request. “You can’t hurt him, Cato. Lay a hand on him, and I will take your daughter away.”

I didn’t appreciate the threat. It only escalated my rage. “You must think very little of me to assume I would hurt someone you consider a friend. Seems out of character for a man who retrieved your father’s body so you could bury him properly.” If she wanted to throw shit in my face, I could do the same to her.

Siena gave me a cold look before she walked out.

Now I was left alone with Crow Barsetti, the renowned winemaker who lived farther west in Tuscany than I did. “I know your story. I know you were a powerful arms dealer before the Skull Kings took over. Now you’ve disappeared into the countryside to make wine and spend time with your family. I understand the lesson Siena is trying to teach me.”

“Yet, you refuse to learn it.”

My eyes narrowed on his face, shocked that this man had the balls to speak to me that way.

“I see the way you look at her.” He ignored the glare of rage I threw at him. “It’s the way my son-in-law looks at my daughter, and my son looks at his wife. It’s the way I look at my wife—even though I’ve been married to her for over thirty years. You love her.”