It’s as if his words are coming out faster than I respond, but I know it isn’t. He’s speaking as he normally does, calculating and authoritative. Though, this time there’s quite the bit of attitude laced through his tone.
There’s no other way for me to do this than to come out and say it. I look him straight in the eyes, knowing I owe this man the truth. “I slept with Mircea.”
“What?!” He roars, eyes widening from anger.
My shoulders begin to tremble as fear works its way through my body. I grab onto the pillow beside me on the couch and clench it until my knuckles turn white. This is what I never wanted, an altercation with Stefan. Fuck! Why did Mircea ever have to come into the picture?
“I . . . I’m sorry. I feel like I’m under so much pressure, Stefan. Things got out of hand. I felt like I did it out of duty. I don’t know, I—” I try to come up with whatever reason I can for my actions.
“No one fucks another man out of duty,” Stefan continues to scream, showing me how much I’ve hurt him. I can’t imagine the way he feels, how I’ve betrayed him. We’ve never had a conversation about putting a label on our relationship, but . . . what I did was wrong. “Don’t you dare try to put a spin on this like you’re only appeasing your parents.”
Tears roll down my cheeks and my shoulders grow tight, like someone is pushing me down into the couch below me. I’m terrified, yet it doesn’t feel like a proper word to accurately describe my fear. “I—I’m so sorry, Stefan. Please forgive me. Please.”
Mustering up all the courage I can, I rise from the couch and start to walk toward him. His nostrils are flaring like he’s a raging bull in Spain and I’m the one holding the red flag. Dangerous, yet beautiful. “Do you have any idea what I would’ve done for you? How I would’ve done right by you and married you? But you told me you didn’t want to be married, so I respected it and never asked. I accepted the boundary you put on our relationship and what we could be, Bianca.” Stefan throws his hands up in the air yet again and walks swiftly toward the fireplace. He picks up a small marble vase I picked up on my last trip to Rome and smashes it against the ground in a burst of wrath.
Placing his hands against the wall, he turns his face to look at me. I see a defeated man, one tormented with pain. “I fucking love you, Bianca Petran, and look what you’ve done to the man who would give you the world if you wanted it.”
Heat rises up into my throat and before I can say a word it comes up into my mouth. I shoot a hand over my lips and run to the nearest bathroom, barely opening the toilet lid before the entire contents of my stomach come rushing out. I hold onto the lid while my stomach surges, forcing more vomit than I thought possible out of me.
I don’t know how long I stay here, but the splitting headache that comes in makes it appear as if it’s been hours. Eventually I stand back up and flush the toilet, then go to brush my teeth and wipe my face off before I’m ready to go back out into the living room and talk to Stefan. I give myself a mental talking to in the mirror, “You can do this. You can make this right.” Before I head back out.
Only, when I open the door, he’s nowhere to be found.
“Stefan?” I call out his name and within a minute it’s made evident that he’s not here.
Chapter Thirteen
Stefan
I suppose it wasn’t right that I left her back at her condo like that, but I really didn’t give a fuck at the time. After what she admitted . . . what she was trying to say. Fuck. I was seeing red, and now I’m feeling pretty damn blue.
Everything was going so good, so why’d she do something like this? Something that could fuck it all up.
I sink my hands into my pockets while I walk on the sidewalk, turning the corner I spot a couple people heading into Mariana and Ion’s brownstone. They’re other Clan members no doubt, but from this far away I can’t see them. Hate to say it, but my eyes aren’t what they once were. Poking my tongue into the side of my cheek, I release a breath I’ve been holding in for far too long. When I said I’d give her the world, I meant it.
After Presley’s death I never thought I’d love another woman. How could I? Not when I had the perfect wife, and I’m not just saying that. She was fucking perfect not just at being a wife, but a damn good mother too. Then Bianca came into the picture. She was always around, but I never paid much attention to her. But when she started showing her rebellious behavior after she turned eighteen, I couldn’t hold myself back. Something about her demeanor made me want her.
From the beginning, she told me she wanted something fun. A mutually beneficial relationship that didn’t need labels. This way we could both fuck someone we knew, without the fear of STDs and whatnot like when you’re entangled with strangers. It all seemed perfect— in the beginning.
Now we’re here.
Years later, and I love her. I care for her on a level that she might not even fully comprehend. I’d kill millions for her. I’d starve myself to death if it meant saving her life. But how can I care for a woman so deeply who dove into another man’s arms?
Shaking my head, I grind my teeth and walk up the street until I’m going up the stairs to their home. I walk past two of their men, who I’m certain are on their security team. One lifts his chin, signaling me to head on up. Pfft, like I need approval.
I head up the stairwells and go straight into the study as always, already finding Ion and Mariana seated at the head of the table. The chair beside Ion is empty, which is where Bianca typically sits. Walking over to my seat, I plant my ass on the chair and try to breathe. There’s no doubt this is the worst time for a Clan meeting, especially since I’m in such a foul mood. Lord help anyone who opens their fucking mouth today, because I don’t give a fuck who I insult.
A laptop is in front of Mariana, so I’m sure she’s going to have most of the Clan leaders here virtually. Clacking against the wooden floors causes me to look to the right, seeing Bianca walk in.
Bianca’s eyes lock in on mine and I lower my gaze, not able to look into her eyes. Not while I’m still trying to wrap my head around why she did . . . what she did. Fuck. I’m in denial.
Tucking my finger under the collar of my dress shirt, I try to loosen it just a bit. Somehow, the room feels hotter, and not in the good way. Sucking in a breath, I realize how dry my throat is. Add the pounding in my ears, and I’m feeling fabulous. Yep. Hopefully no one will do a damn thing to piss me off, because I’ll be a relentless bastard.
Mircea Lazar makes his way quietly into the room, taking the seat across from me and I mull over the options I have, wanting nothing more than to strike him down for fucking with my woman. My prinţesă.
“I’m calling the rest of them now,” Mariana says to Ion, then looks over to Mircea. “Mircea, would you be a dear and shut the door?”
Mircea nods and does as she asks. As he walks back over to his seat, a ringing sound comes out from the speakers in the study and the other Clan leaders pop up on the wall in front of us.
“Hello, everyone, I take it you’re all safe?” Mariana starts to say.
Natasha Balan nods, though one look at her and you can sense she’s having a rough time. For fuck’s sake, her husband was only just killed a few weeks ago. Willow and Duncan sit side by side, both with concentrated expressions plastered across their faces. Scanning through the rest of the Clan leaders, everyone seems very focused, eager to learn why yet another emergency Clan meeting has been called. But then there is Philippe and Carla.
His Italian wife isn’t one who wears her emotions on her sleeves often, but I see the red blotches across her face. Philippe on the other hand seems to be trying to be the strong one. Though, he’s here in this meeting, I have the feeling he’s somewhere else mentally.
“Thank you all for coming so quickly. I’ll get right to it. Philippe and Carla’s restaurant in Germany was attacked. Some sort of vehicle pulled up outside of the restaurant, opened the door, and fired. We believe it was a semi-automatic since so many people were hurt or k
illed. Nothing else would’ve been able to get that many rounds out. Unfortunately, ten deaths have been confirmed at this moment. Six of them being patrons, while four were Carla’s employees. Carla, I am so sorry for your losses.”
“Don’t be sorry, Mariana. Let’s just get whoever did this.” Carla hisses, her heart obviously filled with rage and sorrow.
“If it’s alright I’d love to offer some help.” Melody speaks up, who’s Mikel Lungu’s wife. They live in South Africa and manage our business ventures there, as well as Clan business.
Ion speaks instead of Mariana, which throws me off. “We’d appreciate the help. Our men are already on the ground, trying to get into the restaurant. The police showed up, so of course they’re posing some issues. However, I was able to get the plate number off the van from the security cameras.”
“The Steele brothers are personal friends of mine. As you know, they helped with Mikel’s disappearance a few years back. I’d like to call in a favor with them, to use them as a resource. We might deal with the upper levels of the criminal world, though they deal with a mixture. And considering what’s happened, I’m sure this was a vile person. If it were a message from a rival mob, the message would’ve been clear.” Melody tells the group.
“Someone’s been doing her research,” Davide cackles, getting a warning glance from Mariana.
“Thank you, Melody. This is very kind of you. We appreciate the help and will accept it.” Mariana tells her, getting a smile from Melody in response. Mariana glances over to Mircea, “Mircea, I want you to take lead on this. You have so much to prove to the rest of the Clan leaders. I think you sense we want blood for these losses.”
“I do. I’ll enlist the help of my brother, Sorin. Right off the bat I feel like this is an enemy that was lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to interview all the Clan members to establish a timeline of who posed a threat, and any issues that we might’ve had as a group. I plan on going through the last twenty-five years.”
“Jesus. If you expect to go through that much, we won’t ever find who did this.” I snarl jolting forward in my chair, aggravated at his smartass attitude.
“You’re right, which is why you should help him move through it all a bit quicker. Don’t you think, Stefan?” Ion’s low voice indicates he’s upset at my outburst, though I don’t give a shit.
Leaning back I look to Ion, “As you wish,” but while addressing him, I see Bianca’s typically olive skin appearing more alabaster. Not quite ghost white, but damn close. Even from here, her skin has a clammy like shine to it.
What is wrong with her?
Her eyes drift to mine and lock yet again. Quickly I turn my head so I’m not looking at her, still furious by her actions. No. I’m not furious. I’ve been betrayed by the person I assumed I could trust more than anyone else.
Sucking in a deep breath, I only hope things will get better. It’ll be up to her, and however she decides to grovel. Then again, who knows if I’ll even want to give her another chance or talk this out. I don’t trust easily and Bianca shredded every ounce I had with her.
Chapter Fourteen
Mircea
A week. It’s been a week of interviewing, writing things down, trying to figure out where the needle in this massive haystack is. And I have nothing to show for it, besides, empty bottles of whiskey, notepads with dates, locations and names, and little to no sleep.
I’m at a dead end, and there’s nothing else to say about it.
Rifling through the notes I’ve placed on the dining room table of my apartment, I’m determined to see something I haven’t been able to thus far. After all of my interviewing, I discovered that most of those who wished to harm the Clans are dead. The list starts with Jonas Masterson and ends with Gabriele DiGiovanni. The part that screws with stuff the most? These enemies are either dead, or have been dealt with in a way where they should never want to come anywhere near the Clans again.
“Are you going to stare at that endless pile of notes all night long again, when you could be looking through research the modern way?” My younger brother chuckles from his armchair in the living room. A tablet sets on the arm of the chair and he taps away, coming to a sudden halt when I turn my attention to him.
“This way is as good as any, or have you interrupted me because something useful popped up?” I snap, rolling my eyes.
Sorin is only a couple years younger than I, but he has that ego that makes everyone think he’s a know it all. “Obviously I’ve found something.” He speaks so matter-of-factly, stands from his seat and hands his tablet over to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, looking over the screen. It’s a birth certificate from the looks of it. Obviously from Romania.
“You aren’t a fool. It’s a Romanian birth certificate, for Kronid Masterson.”
Masterson . . . no. It can’t be. We would’ve known.
Looking over the rest of the birth certificate, in front of my face is the father’s name, Jonas Masterson. “How did we not know about this?”
“Who in their right mind thought Jonas Masterson would ever have a child, considering what he did and all.”
“Bianca is his child,” I gently remind him. I wouldn’t ever say those words in front of Bianca, Ion, or Mariana. This is only safe in front of my family.
“Yeah, I’m sure that wasn’t planned. Surprised the fucker didn’t beat Mariana until she had a miscarriage.” Sorin replies honestly, not that I blame him. What I’ve heard about Jonas would leave me to believe he’s a man capable of what my brother thinks.
Sorin turns the tablet toward him and taps something else, revealing another screen. This is also in Romanian where it appears Kronid changed his last name from Masterson to Aldea, which is apparently reported to be his mother’s maiden name on the form. “Now, I’ll have you know, I tracked down a man who made it out of Jonas’ compound all those years ago, the day Mariana and Bianca were rescued. He told me Kronid was living with Jonas at the time. He was there through it all.”
“You believe this is the person behind the attacks?”
“Who else would it be? I mean, unless you found something out that I don’t know.” The sarcasm is oozing off him.
“We’ll follow your lead for now. But, we’re going to keep digging. I’m not going to assume this could be Kronid, not when there isn’t enough evidence to prove it.”
Sorin gives me a displeased glance, furrowing his brows and shaking his head. “I will never understand you. The answer is right here and yet you don’t want to believe it.”
“I’ve never been one to jump the gun. Look what that’s gotten you, and Crina. If she weren’t so emotional she wouldn’t have disowned Father and started a world of trouble. Shit,” I shake my head, hating how our younger half-sister doesn’t think with her head.
Crina was always around us growing up, even though she was the product of a filthy affair with the help. No matter, Father would never turn his back on her. He ensured she’d be well taken care of, went to the best schools money could buy, and was around for family dinners and whatnot. She’s told Sorin she resents our father for his actions, but he’s always been focused on power. It’s his life’s work.
Sorin takes a few steps away from me, pushing his tongue out under his lip. He’s pissed and it’s evident. He learned this tell from our father. “Can you blame her? Think about it, she hasn’t been treated fairly her whole life. Father always acted like she was a bastard and she wasn’t ever blind to it. Don’t be pissed at her. Her feelings are valid. He only wants her around when it’s convenient for him. You’re just lucky I talked her into apologizing to him.”
A few days ago when I was back in Las Vegas and went over to Sorin’s apartment, only to find that the invitation I received from him was an ambush from our sister. One where she was looking to get information. I might’ve bulldogged her into agreeing to apologize to our father, or I’d out someone precious to her. Sorin was pissed at me
for a couple days, but he got over it. I’ve never been a nice guy and everyone should know better.
“I still haven’t gotten a call from Father saying she’s apologized. I hope she does soon . . . ‘cause I might not be feeling so generous, especially when I’m aggravated.” Sorin’s attitude hasn’t made me feel like I should be offering more generosity, and that’s all I’m being. Crina’s pushed my buttons far too many times to keep getting away with the shit she does. Fuck, she probably doesn’t even realize I do have a soft spot for her.
“How are things with Bianca going?” Sorin asks with a smirk pulling at his lips.
Fucker. “They’re going fine.”
“Your tone tells me otherwise. What’s the problem?”
“His name is Stefan Dalca. It looks like they’re in some sort of relationship.”
“Dalca? You mean the older man whose wife was killed?”
I nod, “That would be the one.”
He shrugs his shoulders, taking a seat across from me. “Women her age usually want to have fun. Take her out on the town and show her a good time.”
Sorin is the king of partying. It only makes sense why he’d tell me to show her a fun time. But man, this just makes me think about being back there, and my thoughts flow back to seeing Crina. “Mmm. Brother, I don’t get it. Why are you always coming to Crina’s defense?”
“Is that a joke?” He cackles, placing one leg on top of the other as he relaxes further into the chair.
“Don’t answer my question with a question. Spit it out.” I grumble, not amused.
“Shit, you are serious. Mircea, Crina is our little sister. It’s our job to protect her, to make sure she’s happy. You wanting to use her heart as leverage to apologize to Dad is fucked up.”
Oh, so I’ve been right from the get-go. “She’s dating one of the Beaumonts. Wow.”
Sorin’s eyes go wide, realizing how he made me connect the dots. “Don’t do anything to hurt her. She’s been through enough shit.”
Demise (The Clans Book 13) Page 5
