Dance of Deception: Chapter 21

The numbers on the page in front of me blur. I stare at them, willing my brain to process the percentages and projections laid out there in precise detail. But my mind drifts.

You’re a monster.

My fingers tighten around the leather armrests of my chair, the memory of her whispered words sinking into my bones. I have been called far worse—by enemies, by men begging for their lives before I put a bullet in their brain.

It shouldn’t matter.

…It does.

There’s no knock before the door swings open. Only one person other than my father would dare enter uninvited.

Sure enough, Nico strides in, relaxed as ever, dropping into the chair across from my desk with his long legs stretched out and a smug expression on his face.

I exhale slowly, dragging my eyes up to him. “Please, do come in, brother. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Fuck.” He grins. “It was great enough being the son of the don. But the brother? That sounds even better. All of the perks, none of the responsibilities.”

I glare at him. “What the fuck makes you think there won’t be any responsibilities?”

Nico grins. “Second-born, baby.” He winks at me. “I told Bianca years ago that she and I were in the clear with getting pressured into marriage. Then she had to go and fire-bomb Kratos’ car.” He sighs dramatically. “But me, I’ve managed to keep my pyro tendencies in check. Ergo, no forced marriage for yours truly.”

“Just think of all the seven-foot tall Greek men you’ll never meet with that mentality,” I grunt back.

My brother chuckles. “You know, I’ve never been with a Greek girl—at least, I don’t think so. Pity Kratos’ sister Callie is married⁠—”

“Is there a point to this visit, Nico?” I grunt. “Believe me, I’m overjoyed”—I draw the word out sarcastically—’that your life seems to be so free and easy. Mine is the fucking opposite.”

I turn to glare at the mountain of financial statements on the desk. This isn’t even half of them. Santino, the fucking adding machine that he is, is currently in the weird little office he’s had in the basement of this house since I was six, looking at the lion’s share of the Barone empire reports.

Nico spreads his arms, then kicks his feet up and rests them on the edge of the desk. I level a withering stare at him.

“What?” He smiles in amusement. “You did tell me to get comfortable.”

“You’re going to learn to get comfortable with just stumps below the shins if you don’t get your goddamn feet off my desk, fucker.”

He chuckles, but at least he takes his feet down.

“I just wanted to stop by and see how my newlywed brother the don is doing.”

I spread my arms, gesturing broadly with a dark look on my face.

“I see,” Nico frowns. “So—lonely at the top. No rest for the wicked. It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll. All of the above?”

“All of the above,” I sigh.

“Well,” Nico clears his throat. “You can’t be in that bad of a mood.”

I glare at him. “And why would you say that?”

“Probably the ripped pair of panties under the chaise over there.”

I almost don’t look, in case he’s bullshitting me and just trying to get a reaction. Then my eyes dart over anyway, and a shadow crosses my face.

Fuck.

My little brother snickers quietly as I stand, march over, and pluck the torn thong from the floor, stuffing it into my pocket before I walk back over to my desk and sit again.

“Go ahead,” he sighs. “Tell me it’s not what I think.”

“Nah, it’s probably exactly what you think,” I say dryly.

Nico arches a brow. “Interesting. For a guy who got laid last night, you’re still doing that thing.”

“What thing?” My voice is ice.

“That thing where you’re too controlled.” He gestures lazily with his fingers. “Like you’re about to snap someone’s neck.”

I lift a brow. “Maybe I am.”

He grins. “Sweet, I like this game. Who’s the lucky fucker?”

“The next asshole who puts their feet on my goddamn desk, that’s who.”

Nico sits up slightly, his smirk fading just a little. He watches me like one predator sizing up another.

“This mood of yours have anything to with your new wife?”

My spine stiffens.

“Watch it,” I warn.

Nico exhales a quiet chuckle, his gaze sharpening. “Aha. So it does.”

I don’t confirm or deny it. I don’t need to.

Silence stretches between us, taut like a wire. Nico may be fire where I am ice, but we share the same predatory edge. He knows me. Always has.

“What did she do?” he asks eventually. “Have the gall to speak in your presence? Did she stand up too straight?” He winces. “Fuck, Carmy. Don’t tell me she had an opinion.”

I roll my eyes. “Surely you have things to do other that busting my balls.”

“You’d think so…” He shrugs. “But honestly? My schedule’s pretty clear. Well, aside from your balls.”

I shoot him a glare. “I can easily adjust that schedule for you.”

He rolls his neck, smirking as he leans back in the chair. “Actually, I did come here to talk business.” He frowns. “Territory dispute. Jimmy Morelli’s crew keeps pushing the line where his territory butts up against Ezio Adamos’. And as you know, Ezio reports directly to⁠—”

“Ares Drakos,” I grunt.

My sister’s brother-in-law.

The Drakos family and mine don’t have any official treaties or anything. But we’ve done some business together, and we’re obviously on friendly enough terms, given that Bianca’s married to Kratos.

Unfortunately, it’s an amicable relationship that Jimmy fucking Morelli seems to be hell-bent on stepping all over.

A decision that now gets to be my fucking job to clean up.

“What the fuck is his problem?”

“From what I remember about him in high school?” Nico shrugs. “Cocaine, anger management issues, and an IQ that’s only in the double digits.”

I grit my teeth. Nepotism is basically how the entire underworld works: if you’re a crime boss, nine times out of ten, your successor is your kid. Even if, as in Chris Morelli’s case, your kid’s a fucking idiot.

“Okay, let’s do this. Grab Santino, maybe Tony Gallo, and Giovanni Conti. Head down to that bar that Jimmy operates out of. Have a talk with him, casually mention that I’ll personally blow his balls off with a shotgun if he keeps pissing over the fence onto Ezio’s territory.”

Nico’s brow arches. “You want me to bring Gio? He’s insane, you know. He makes Jimmy look like a rational, compassionate guy.”

I smile coldly. “Exactly.”

My brother shakes his head. “You’re the boss, boss.” He frowns, sucking on his teeth before he drags his gaze back to me. “There’s actually…another reason I wanted to swing by today.”

“Oh?”

He nods. “Kir is making moves.”

My gaze narrows. “Explain.”

Nico shifts, stretching like a cat before sitting forward, his elbows on his knees. His face shadows, his voice lowering, even though the only other people in the house right now are Santino in his basement dungeon lair…

…And my new bride, who managed to find her way up to one of the guest rooms at some point last night and has stayed there ever since.

“Kir’s waging a campaign,” Nico growls quietly, “against us.”

A long silence stretches out.

He doesn’t mean the Barone family.

He means the other us.

Nico’s eyes glint. “He wants to wage a war against the Court.”

I glare at my brother. “We don’t talk about that outside of it,” I say, voice flat.

Nico frowns. “Relax, Carmy.” He leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper only I can hear. “It’s just us.”

It doesn’t matter. Outside the Court, it doesn’t exist. It’s a phantom organization, a legend whispered in the dark.

“You know the fucking rules,” I growl quietly.

Nico exhales. “Yeah, I do. But this is important.”

I pause for a moment. “Fine. What’s going on with Kir?”

“He’s never been shy about voicing his distaste for the Court. But now he’s rallying others to join him and actually do something about it.”

I stay silent, waiting for more.

“Kir doesn’t approve of vigilantes,” Nico continues. “He likes order and structure. He thinks power should lie with the major players who built this world.” Nico lifts a brow. “The Commission, the Iron Table, the High Council—not some faceless group meting out justice from the shadows.”

I exhale slowly. Kir has never been a man who tolerates disruptions to the balance of power. He’s completely unafraid to pull strings or cut throats when necessary, but he does it within the system of the underworld as it exists now. He believes in hierarchy, stability, and above all else, the control of the established families staying with the established families.

And the Black Court doesn’t play by those rules.

“He wants to form a bloc,” Nico adds, watching me carefully. “He’s reaching out to other leaders, pushing the idea that we are the real threat.”

I sit back, my fingers flexing against the desk. “Who has he approached?”

My brother shakes his head. “No one from the Commission, I know that much. Not yet, anyway. He’s starting small—leaning on old allies, whispering in the right ears. But if he gets enough backing and makes this into a real movement…” Nico trails off, letting the thought dangle.

It doesn’t need to be said: if Kir convinces enough people that the Black Court is a threat, he’ll be able to take his campaign further and bring it to the very people we can’t afford to have looking too closely.

“He’s playing a long game,” I say finally.

Nico nods. “And as we all know, he’s very good at that.”

The room is quiet for a minute.

“It’s not that he disagrees with what we do,” I muse. “Just how we do it.”

“Exactly.”

I exhale slowly. This changes things. Kir isn’t just a rival keeping tabs on us anymore, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Now, he’s actively working against us.

I hold his gaze for a moment longer before nodding. “Keep me updated.”

Nico grins. “Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else.”

Then, as easily as he entered, he pushes up from the chair and strolls toward the door, the tension in the room melting, his tone becoming light, almost amused.

“Hey, where’s your wifey by the way? Or should I just assume she’s out buying new underwear?”

He only barely dodges the book I hurl at his head.

It’s only after Nico’s gone that I let out a slow breath, my fingers tapping on the desk.

Kir is making moves, has the Black Court in his sights. If he rallies enough support…if he learns who we are…

No. That’s not going to happen.

I turn back to my desk, picking up the report I never finished reading. My eyes skim the numbers, but they still don’t register.

Because the second I try to focus, I hear it again.

You’re a monster.

Lyra’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a blade, sharper than Kir’s threats, more disquieting than any war brewing outside these walls.

I exhale, staring at the desk in front of me. My fingers tighten slightly.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter. That I don’t care.

But the way my jaw clenches, and my stomach twists…

I think I do.