Se connecterChapter 20MayaThe air in the training facility always smells the same: a mixture of expensive floor wax, industrial-grade cooling, and the faint, metallic tang of sweat. It's a scent that usually grounds me. It's the smell of a machine I built a front for my father's interests that I turned into a sanctuary for my own. The polished concrete floors reflect the overhead fluorescents like dark water, and the glass walls of my office look out onto the rink where generations of Falcons players have bled for wins I negotiated, contracts I wrote, careers I managed.Today, the air is thick with something else. It's the sulfurous scent of a bridge burning.I didn't look up from my tablet when Ryan walked in. I couldn't. If I looked at him, I'd see the man who'd been sleeping in the crook of my arm for the past couple of months, the one who learned how I took my coffee and that I hummed in my sleep when I was happy. The one who traced the scars on my back not with pity or horror, but with re
chapter 19Ryan The air in the library was stifling, thick with the smell of old leather and the even older scent of a ghost I thought I'd buried six years ago, in a different city, in a different life. "Tatiana, stop," I said, my voice like gravel, like broken glass, as I stepped back, breaking the kiss that had felt more like an ambush than an embrace. Her lips had been warm, familiar in a way that should have been comforting but instead felt like drowning. "why?" "You can't." She looked at me, her green eyes shimmering with a practiced hurt that I remembered too well, that had once been my undoing. "You used to look at me differently, Ryan. Before the Rossi girl. Before the 'strategic necessity.'" She said the words with air quotes, with venom, with the particular cruelty of someone who knows exactly where to stab. "It's not a necessity." I snapped, my hand instinctively going to my pocket, searching for the weight of the ring box that was now empty. Because I'd g
Chapter 18 Maya The party moved from the dining room to the lounge, the music swelling into something jazzier, more hedonistic, the kind of music that encourages bad decisions and expensive regrets. I get caught in a conversation with a group of investors, nodding and smiling while my mind is already three steps ahead, calculating the wire transfer for Gabriella, planning the conversation I'll need to have with my banker, dreading and anticipating the moment when she is truly gone from my life. "Excuse me." I say, gracefully exiting the circle with the social dexterity that has been beaten into me since childhood. I need to find Ryan. I need to feel that grounding presence again, need to remind myself that I am not alone in this, that there is one person in this room who sees me and not just the Rossi name. I scan the room. I don't see him by the bar, where he was ten minutes ago. I don't see him with his father, who is holding court in the corner with a cigar and a circle
Maya The celebration after the summit is subdued. Both families gathering in the Mount Nelson's private dining room, toasting to peace and prosperity while plotting their next moves. I stand on the balcony, needing air, when my phone buzzes. Gabriella: I heard about the engagement. I'm so sorry, Maya. I stare at the message, surprised she's reaching out. Don't be. I chose this. Did you? Or did Papa force your hand? I think about Ryan, about the way he looked at me across the conference table. About the partnership we're building. About the possibility of actually changing things. I chose this, I type back. And I'm going to make it work. I hope so. Because you deserve to be happy too, Maya. Not just dutiful. Before I can respond, she sends another message: I need your help. One last time. My stomach tightens. What kind of help? Jeremy and I need to disappear completely. New identities, new country, new everything. I have a contact who can arrange it, but it costs more than
RyanThe summit location was changed it was now being held at the Mount Nelson Hotel, neutral ground chosen specifically because neither family owns it. The pink landmark sits imposing and elegant, a reminder of old Cape Town money and colonial power.Perfect place for two criminal empires to negotiate peace.Maya and I arrive separately, maintaining appearances. She's in a blue gown that brought out her dark eyes, her hair was swept up, looking every inch like Antonio Rossi's heir. I'm in my armor a perfectly fitted tuxedo."We don't acknowledged each other in the lobby by winking.The meeting room is on the top floor, private and secure. Both fathers are already there when I arrive, along with their respective lawyers and advisors."Ryan." My father nods"Pops.". "On time. Good."Antonio Rossi stands when he sees me, extending a hand. "Mr. Zurri. Thank you for coming."I shake his hand, trying not to think about the fact that this man ordered a hit on one of his own players. Tha
Chapter 15Maya Papa is waiting in the library when I arrive at 6:58 AM. Too early for breakfast. No food on the table, no coffee, no pretence of hospitality. The curtains are half-drawn against the morning light and he's sitting behind his desk the way he sits in negotiations ,perfectly still, perfectly composed, the way a trap is composed. All its violence coiled and patient. This is not a conversation.This is an interrogation. "Sit," he says, without looking up from the papers in front of him. I sit. He lets the silence stretch. I know this technique — I use it myself, learned it at his knee in a hundred boardrooms, watching him reduce grown men to confessions with nothing but patience and the quality of his attention. He taught me that silence is the most powerful pressure. That the person who speaks first loses. I fold my hands in my lap and I wait. He looks up. "Your sister left the city last night," he says. His voice is flat and precise. "Yes." "With Jerem







