Chapter 67

ALEXANDER

The office was thick with cigar smoke and expensive silence, the kind that only came after winning.

Or taking something that didn’t want to be taken.

I poured two fingers of the twelve-year-old Macallan into a crystal tumbler and leaned against the marble bar in the corner.

The ink on the contract had barely dried, but the weight of it settled on my chest like iron. It wasn’t regret. It was something far more dangerous.

Satisfaction.

Leo strolled in like he owned the place, which he didn’t—but that never stopped him.

He snatched the second glass from the bar and took a sip with a grin that could cut glass.

"Cheers to the bride and groom," he said, lifting his glass before downing half of it.

I let out a short laugh, the kind that didn't reach my eyes.

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"How could I not? That little exchange back there? Grade A entertainment." He leaned against the bar beside me, eyes gleaming.

"But tell me, what would you have done if she'd called your bluff?"

I lifted an eyebrow.

"If she looked you dead in the eye and said she didn’t give a damn about those kids? What then?"

I paused, watching the amber liquid swirl in my glass.

The idea almost made me smile.

Almost.

"She wouldn't have," I said simply.

Leo laughed. "You sound awfully sure."

“I am,” I said, tipping the glass to my lips.

“Alina may be a spitfire, but the background checks I had run made one thing crystal clear—”

I let the burn of the scotch settle before continuing, my voice even.

“The background checks confirmed one thing. That orphanage is her whole damn world—those kids, her family. She’d bleed before letting anything happen to them. It’s her greatest weakness….”

I turned the glass slowly in my hand, watching the amber swirl like a storm.

“She’d set herself on fire if it meant keeping them warm.”

He tilted his head, taking another sip.

"Still, bold move playing that card. Gutsy. Cold."

"Strategic," I corrected.

"I gave her a choice. She made it."

A crooked grin tugged at his lips, half-amused, half-awed.

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head slowly.

“You didn’t just convince her—you practically choreographed the whole thing..”

He raised his glass in mock salute.

“Bravo. You set the stage like a dark fairytale—one where the prince wears a tailored suit and threatens everything the heroine holds dear. Sent your dogs in like a threat. You made her think the wolves were coming to tear down everything she loved… when really, you were building a fortress around it.”

I didn’t deny it.

Because he was right.

Leo pushed off the bar with lazy grace and strolled toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, his glass catching the ambient city light.

"I wonder how pissed she’ll be when she finds out your so-called goons weren’t there to threaten the orphanage…”

Leo’s voice floated lazily through the room, smooth and low, but there was a glint in his eye as he turned slightly, one brow arching in amusement.

“But to protect it. You played that scene well, brother—twisted it just enough to look like a threat instead of a favour.”

I didn’t flinch.

Instead, I leaned back in the leather chair like a king on his throne, glass of whiskey in hand, the golden liquid catching the low lighting as I swirled it idly.

The city lights stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, glittering like a thousand secrets I already owned.

“Semantics,” I said dryly, my voice a quiet drawl of confidence.

Leo let out a low laugh, shaking his head.

“Semantics, he says.”

He took a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving me.

I brought the glass to my lips but didn’t drink. My mouth curved into the barest hint of a smirk.

“I needed her to sign,” I said, turning the glass in my fingers.

“Fear is faster than gratitude.”

Leo finally pivoted to face me completely, his amusement sharpening.

“You really think she won’t find out?”

“She won’t.”

My reply was calm.

And even if she did?

It wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Because the truth was carved in stone:

I didn’t need her forgiveness.

I didn’t need her understanding.

I didn’t need her to fall into my arms with wide eyes and whispered thanks.

I just needed her to be mine.

Her signature.

Her silence.

Her inheritance

That was enough—for now.

Leo took another sip of his drink, watching me closely.

But I wasn’t concerned.

Let Alina hate me.

She could fight, bite, and curse my name all she wanted.

Because in the end, she’d still walk beside me.

Sleep in my home.

Wear my ring.

Leo leaned a table, swirling the amber liquid in his glass like he was conducting an interrogation rather than a conversation.

"I’ve never seen you give an order to protect before," he said finally, his voice deceptively light.

"It’s always been blood, guns, knives… kill. Burn this. Silence that. Eliminate. Erase."

He looked over at me with a knowing glint.

"But to protect? That’s new."

I raised my glass, took a long sip, and exhaled slowly.

“So?”

“So?” Leo drawled, swirling the liquor in his glass.

“If the underworld gets a whiff of that little shift in your moral compass, it might dent the legendary Alexander Dimitri reputation. What happens when the monster suddenly grows a conscience?”

He stepped closer, his tone laced with mockery now.

“The same man who once left a rival boss hanging from a bridge in broad daylight. Who burned a cartel’s safehouse to the ground—with their soldiers still inside. The man whose name alone sends grown men running for the border… now sending guards to protect children?”

He gave a low whistle, shaking his head.

“That doesn’t scream king of the underworld. That screams soft spot. You’re slipping.”

I scoffed, the sound sharp as a blade, and turned my gaze back to the city stretched beneath us like prey.

“Let them talk,” I muttered. “I’ll remind them who I am if they forget.”

Leo’s grin widened.

“Nonchalant deflection. Classic.”

I didn’t respond.

He wasn’t finished anyway—I could see it in his eyes.

He walked closer, tapping the rim of his glass against mine before he murmured,

“You’re obsessed with her.”

My head turned sharply.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“She’s a means to an end,” I said, voice clipped.

“I got what I wanted. Her signature. Her inheritance. Everything she owns—everything she was—is mine.”

Leo tilted his head.

“Right...."

He moved to the windows beside me, the city’s glow casting flickers of light across the glass in his hand.

“The moment you caught wind that Robert Solas was planning to strike the orphanage to lure Alina out—you didn’t hesitate. You sent in your best men to protect it.”

His voice dropped, edged with something sharp and almost incredulous.

“You had guards stationed there, tracked Solas’s moves down to the minute, positioned your operatives before he even made a move.”

Leo’s brow lifted, the weight of his words hanging heavy between us, his tone a mix of accusation and quiet wonder.

“What does that say about you, Alexander? That you’re softening? Developing a conscience? Or maybe…”

He took a slow sip, eyes locked on mine.

“Maybe you just can’t stand the thought of losing her.”

“Lose her?” I scoffed, tipping the glass to my lips before answering, my voice low and razor-sharp.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Leo. She’s just another piece on the board. A payment collected—nothing more.”

I turned away from the city lights and met his gaze,

“She means nothing to me! She was handed over. Bought and paid for. And I don’t share what I own.” I paused, letting the weight of the words settle like smoke.

“I protect what’s mine, that’s all. And I don’t share.”

Leo chuckled dryly, shaking his head with a knowing smirk.

“Right. Possession, not obsession.”

I said nothing.

Because maybe it was obsession.

And maybe it was possession too.

But whatever it was, I wasn’t about to admit it—not aloud, not ever.

I stayed silent.

He chuckled.

Leo shook his head in disbelief, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You pulled the men back from the orphanage the second she told you to. No hesitation. No threats. Just poof—Alexander Dimitri, the ruthless kingpin himself, folding like a damn house of cards"

"She didn't tell me to....." I replied through gritted teeth.

He smirked, eyes glittering with mockery.

“She didn’t tell you to, huh?”

He paced a slow circle around me, shaking his head with exaggerated disbelief.

“She practically demanded to see the kids, and what did you say? ‘I’ll take you myself.’ How utterly… sweet.”

Leo smirked, eyes sparkling with mockery.

“Chauffeur service from the butcher of bloodlines? Your icy black heart just melted like a popsicle on a summer day. Just wait—if she ever says ‘please,’ you’ll be down on one knee faster than you can draw a gun, with a ring in one hand and a deed to your empire.”

I snorted, dry and sharp.

“Get fucked.”

Leo grinned wider.

“Oh, I’m planning to. Got a leggy gorgeous blonde waiting for me as we speak. Flexible as hell and dumb as stone—just how I like 'em.”

He sipped his drink with a wink, clearly enjoying himself.

“Meanwhile, you’ll be tucking in orphans and pretending you don’t care.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned back into the leather.

“You’re exhausting.”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“But not nearly as exhausted as you are—pretending this is just business when we both know the minute someone breathes in the her direction, you'll damn near rearrange the city.”

I set the glass down with a soft clink, my gaze cutting over to him.

“She’s means nothing to me. She’s a problem I’ve already solved. I own everything she has, including that damn orphanage.”

I leaned back, the picture of calm, unbothered authority.

“So if I decide to escort her there myself, it’s not because I give a damn—it’s because I want her to see what losing her fight looks like. Up close. I want her to know I let her keep it.”

I paused just long enough for the silence to bite.

“And if that makes me sentimental, then maybe you’re drinking the cheap stuff.”

I turned my gaze on him, cold and hard.

“She’s not special. She’s leverage that happens to breathe....

Useful. And temporary.”

Leo’s gaze pinned me.

“You’re lying to the wrong person.”

I downed the rest of my drink and set the glass down with a dull thud.

“I don’t do weakness,” I said.

“I don’t fall into people. I use them.”

“Funny,” Leo replied, pouring himself another drink.

“Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you’re circling the edge of something dangerous.”

I didn’t flinch.

“She’s fire, Leo. I’m not stupid enough to think I can touch her and not get burned.”

Leo gave a short laugh.

“No. But you want to.”

His words hung in the air like smoke—sharp, undeniable.

I walked back to the bar and picked up the decanter, pouring another drink with deliberate calm.

“Most mafia men threaten to blow things up, spill blood, burn things to the ground… but you?” Leo gave a dry laugh, eyes narrowed.

“You build a fortress around them—layer it in steel, lace it with guards—and then make it look like you’re striking a match.”

“And that’s called strategy,” I said coolly.

“It’s called caring,” Leo retorted.

“Which is terrifying, because I think this might be the closest you’ve ever come to having a soul.”

I snorted. “I’d have to lose my mind first.”

He leaned in, voice lower. “Maybe you already have.”

I met his gaze, sharp and cold.

“She’s a means to an end.”

Leo stared at me for a long moment, like he could see straight through every carefully constructed lie I told myself.

Then he stepped back and raised his glass in mock salute.

“Whatever you say, brother.”

But even he didn’t believe it.

And fuck, maybe I didn’t either.