Reign (The Syndicate_ Crime and Passion Book 2)(52)

“No. I would not have. But he beats the fucking alternative,” Santo said.

He grimaced, and it was only with the greatest amount of discipline that I kept myself from jumping to Sergei’s defense. I needed to fix that, break old habits. Unlike Santo, Sergei wouldn’t expect me to defend him, especially as passionately as I wanted to.

“What does Michael need to call you about?” I asked on instinct.

“He’s going to pick up a couple hundred kilos for cheap,” Santo said.

I frowned at him, trying to temper myself. Not only was he being direct with me, but I knew what he was doing was something Sergei would not approve of.

“You’re back in business?” I said.

He looked at me then, sharp eyes narrow.

“A small venture. A little test to see where things stand,” he said.

“Santo…”

“Daniela…”

There was a wealth of meaning in that single word, and as he watched me, his anger began to rise. Despite my anger, I quickly went to placate him, again falling into an old habit, yet another I would have to break.

“Don’t be upset. It’s just that…” I trailed off and then paused, trying to think of what to say. Santo didn’t give me the chance.

“You don’t think your husband would like that, huh?” he said.

I shook my head. “I don’t.”

“I don’t either. And I don’t give a fuck,” he said.

His words were almost taunting, a dare, but one that I knew was not directed at me. Santo would chafe under someone else’s control, if there ever was such a thing. I’d learned that the best muzzle was the one Santo didn’t realize he was wearing. Yet Maxim and Sergei had challenged him directly, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before he felt compelled to strike back.

Still, I went back to that natural instinct for placation and peacemaking.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“You meddling in my business, little girl?” he said.

I shook my head. “No. Looking after your well-being,” I said, annoyed that he’d asked the question, even more annoyed that despite my wish that it was otherwise, I still cared about his well-being, probably always would.

He smiled then, the reaction one of genuine joy and happiness.

“Huh. No one’s done that since your mother,” he said. There was something almost wistful in his voice, and I watched his face, seeing some hints of softness.

“She told me to look after you,” I said, remembering what she’d asked, what I’d promised. Remembering how determined I’d been to keep that promise no matter what.

“Nora always did that. Looked after me.” He looked at me, nodded. “I never loved her,” he admitted.

I didn’t think he had, hadn’t even entertained the notion, but to hear him say it out loud was a little bit stunning. She’d devoted herself to him.

“She loved you,” I said.

He shook his head. “No, she didn’t. I don’t blame her. Our relationship wasn’t about that.”

“What was it about then?” I asked.

“Her father owed me, and she was the only thing he had to offer,” Santo said, letting his gaze linger on the ring on my finger, which suddenly felt so conspicuous. “But she was a good cook, kept a nice house. Handled all the shit I had no interest in.”

“You make her sound like a housekeeper,” I said, angry that he thought so little of the woman who had given him everything she had, the same one who had asked me to do the same. I wasn’t surprised, though. Wasn’t surprised at all.

“You were as protective of her as she was of you and your sister,” Santo said.

“Why shouldn’t I be? She was a good person,” I said.

“That she was. Good. Dutiful,” he said.

He pinned me with a stare, seeming to assess me.

“Shame your sister wouldn’t even come back for her funeral. But you stuck around, Daniela. Why is that?”

“She was my mother, and you are my father,” I said. The answer should have been self-evident. What other reason could there be?

He shook his head. “That’s not the reason.”

“Tell me the reason,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

This was uncharted territory for me, Santo giving me his unvarnished opinion of me. He’d told me what he didn’t like, had had no trouble at all expressing himself, but never quite in this way.

Honestly, I didn’t know what he thought of me, and I had imagined having this conversation or one like it many times before. Now I realized that rather than hanging on his every word, I was only looking at what he said with a mild curiosity.