Chapter 26: This is about to get ugly.

Lysander’s POV

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!"

I sweep my hand across the table in front of me, sending everything on it flying across the room. Documents scatter across the floor, a glass hits the wall and shatters, a stack of papers follows.

"Fuck!"

I drag both hands over my face. This is going to ruin everything, everything I have spent the last few months building.

The meetings, the negotiations, the agreements, the promises made between men who have spent years trying to put bullets in each other’s heads.

One fucking shot.....That’s all it took.

One stupid fucking shot to threaten everything.

I walk over to the cabinet and grab the bottle of whiskey, I pour myself a full glass and take a long drink.

The burn does nothing to calm me, my mind is still racing.

My grip tightens around the glass. I should have known something like this would happen, I should have known Jerry wouldn’t be able to keep his fucking temper under control.

The door suddenly opens and the person responsible for my anger walks in.

Jeremiah.

I don’t think I just rush him, my fist connects with his face. His head snaps to the side.

"What the fuck did you do that for?!"

He stumbles back, holding his jaw.

"Are you fucking insane?"

I step toward him.

"Do you have a death wish? Is that it?"

Jeremiah raises his head slowly and wipes the blood from his split lip.

He looks at the blood on his fingers then at me.

"What did I do this time?"

I stare at him.

"Oh, fuck you, Jerry. Don’t play coy with me."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I know you did the shooting in front of the club today."

A smile slowly spreads across his face.

"Oh."

My jaw clenches.

"It’s that."

"What the fuck do you mean by that?"

He shrugs.

"You’re acting like I started a war."

"You shot at a Luciano! On their fucking grounds!"

My voice echoes through the room.

"Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

"I did what I had to do."

"No."

I point at him.

"No, you didn’t have to do shit."

He rolls his eyes.

"You always do this."

"Because you always do this!"

I step closer.

"Do you have to always be a fucking hothead?"

He says nothing.

"I’m tired of cleaning up after your mess."

I step back to take another drink.

"The Luciano’s won’t take this lightly and you know it."

"Good."

His response is so casual that I slowly lower the glass.

"Good?"

He gives me a cold smile.

"Then maybe you won’t have to marry the Luciano bitch."

Everything inside me goes still, I put the glass down. Then I cross the space between us and grab him by the front of his shirt.

"I’m going to marry that woman."

I pull him closer.

"For the good of your ass and our people."

My voice drops.

"And I won’t have you calling my future wife a bitch."

I hold his gaze.

"Even if she’s a Luciano. Am I understood?"

Jerry looks at me and I watch the exact moment he realizes I’m not fucking with him.

His throat moves as he swallows then he nods.

"Yes."

I release his shirt and he straightens it.

"Good."

I pick up my glass again.

"Now go sleep."

He hesitates.

"Tomorrow, we’ll clean up this mess."

I take another drink.

"We might just have to move up the wedding."

His eyes widen slightly.

"Thanks to you, Jerry."

"But it....."

"Get out, Jerry."

He closes his mouth. For once, he knows better than to argue.

"Yes, Don."

Back to titles are we?. That’s how I know I’ve pissed him off.....but he started this mess. And now I have to clean up after him once again.

He turns and walks toward the door, Just before he leaves, I speak again.

"Jeremiah"

He stopd and looks over his shoulder.

"If you ever pull something like this again without telling me..."

I let the sentence hang cause I know he understands the consequences, he nods once then leaves, the door closing behind him.

Silence settles over the room and I stare at the door he just walked out from for for several seconds.

Then I look down at my hand, the one that hit him, my knuckles are red but I don’t care.

I take another drink.....I hit my brother for calling my bride to be a bitch.

I shouldn’t care. She’s a Luciano, she’s supposed to be nothing but a piece of an agreement.

A bride.

A name on a contract meant to keep two families from tearing each other apart.

That’s all.

I stare at the whiskey in my glass.

My little riot.

Her face when she walked into my room earlier, she came there for her sister, not herself. She stood in front of her sister like she would take a bullet for her.

And tonight, she nearly did.

I close my eyes.

"Fuck."

This marriage is going to be a bigger problem than I thought.

———

My phone ringing is what drags me out of sleep. I groan and reach blindly across the nightstand, trying to find it without opening my eyes.

The damn thing keeps ringing.

"Fuck."

I finally grab it and bring it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Don Sanchez."

My eyes open immediately.

That voice.

The Luciano Don.

I sit up in bed.

"What happened yesterday?"

I rub my face.

"What?"

"You heard me."

His voice is cold.

"What the fuck happened at the club?"

I curse under my breath.

Of course. Word travels fast.

"I was there."

"I know you were there. I want to know why a member of my family was shot on my grounds, at your fucking club."

I stare at the wall.

"Your family member wasn’t the target."

"That doesn’t change the fact that he was shot."

"I know."

"Do you?"

His tone sharpens.

"Because from where I’m standing, your family walked onto my territory, a gun was fired, and one of my men was the one who ended up bleeding."

I close my eyes.

"This wasn’t my doing."

"Then whose was it?"

I don’t answer immediately. Because I know exactly whose doing it was.

Jerry.

But I’m not about to discuss my brother over the phone, I’m certainly not about to throw him under the bus.

"Let’s meet."

A pause.

"Where?"

"The same place we met last time."

Silence.

"You better have a good fuckin explanation for this."

The line goes dead.

I lower the phone slowly.

"Fuck."

I throw the covers off and get out of bed.

Yesterday was already a disaster and somehow, I need to do it without letting him know just how much of this mess was caused by my own brother.

I walk toward the bathroom, already reaching for my shirt.

This meeting is going to be ugly.