Page 50 of Beautiful Ruins
Silence stretched between us, his stare unwavering, mine openly doubtful.
I didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in my expression.
“Not that it will make any difference, but I’m done with that business.”
I let a beat pass.This was news to me.“Since when?”
He glanced toward the window, not at the view, but at the distance.“Since I had children.”
I didn’t react, but I filed away this new information.
Navarro’s voice remained calm, but there was something harder beneath it.“Karma is real.Mistakes have a way of circling back.I don’t want my children paying for my misdeeds.Not in ten years.Not in thirty.I’ve seen too many sons inherit debts they didn’t create.”
I stared at him.“So you’re retiring.”
He gave a small nod.“I’ve moved clean.Wine’s been… exceptionally profitable.”His mouth twitched like he hated disclosing he enjoyed it.“I bought land.I’m building a clean empire for my children.”
“A saint.”
Navarro’s eyes flashed.“Don’t insult me.I’m still who I am.I’m just choosing my sins more carefully.”
That was as close to honesty as men in our world ever got.
I leaned forward slightly.“Then tell me who’s pushing product in Siena.”
Navarro’s gaze cooled.He looked at me for a long moment, measuring whether this information would bite him later.
Then he spoke.“Russians.”
My body went still.
“New blood,” Navarro continued.“They’re trying to muscle in.They’re hungry and don’t understand how things work here.They don’tcarehow things work here.”
“And Azzopardi?”I demanded.
Navarro’s mouth curled with contempt.“I know that he’s been sniffing around them.He thinks they’re his ticket to the big leagues.He thinks everyone is as stupid as he is.”
A tentative truce settled between us, unspoken but present.Not because we liked each other.But because we hated chaos more.
Navarro didn’t speak straight away.
Instead, he slipped a hand into the inner pocket of his jacket with the same unhurried precision he did everything else.
He pulled out a plain card.Blank.Unmarked.Then came the pen.It sat in his grip momentarily before he clicked it once and leaned forward over the table.The scratch of ink against cardstock was the only sounded like he was carving something permanent rather than simply writing.
His head dipped slightly as he finished the last letter, jaw set, expression unreadable.Then he capped the pen with a soft click and set it aside.
For a moment, he just looked at the card.
Like he was weighing the consequence of what he’d written.
Then he slid it across the table toward me.Slowly.The card glided over the polished surface and came to a stop just within my reach.
“A name.”His voice was low, even, but there was an edge to it now.“A place.”Something quieter.More destructive than before.“You didn’t get it from me.”
I didn’t touch the card straight away.
My eyes flicked from it to him instead.
