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“She wants us to move the wedding up,” Jordan said. “I’m her heir, and her wish is to see me marry while she’s still fully functioning. She doesn’t want to risk waiting until February.”

His words formed a strange bubble in the air. Despite the noise from the rest of the club, you could’ve heard a pin drop in our tight circle.

Vuk stood so still one could’ve mistaken him for a statue. If it weren’t for the tiny flare of his nostrils, I would’ve thought he hadn’t heard Jordan at all.

Meanwhile, a storm of emotions tumbled through me.

Guilt that I’d been thinking only of his friend while his grandmother was dying. Shock at the Ford matriarch’s request. And, most of all, that crushing dread again.

“Move up the wedding?” My voice sounded strained to my own ears. “To when?”

Jordan sighed. “October,” he said, sounding as happy about it as I felt. “Two months from now.”

CHAPTER9

Vuk

Ihad several problems—three, to be exact.

One was the Brotherhood’s reemergence in my life. A week had passed since my meeting with Sean, and we were no closer to tracking down the suspect or figuring out the Brothers’ goals.

Two was my CFO’s monotone drone as he discussed Markovic Holdings’ latest fiscal quarter. He was competent, but his voice could put a bear on cocaine to sleep.

Three…

My jaw ticked.

Jordan and Ayana’s wedding, now scheduled for the end of October.

Six months, I could somewhat deal with. Six months was in the new year, far enough away that I could dismiss it as a near-distant possibility.

Two months was concrete.

Two months made me want to burn the whole fucking church down.

We’re done for the day.

My dismissal popped up in the chat and brought the proceedings to a crashing halt.

The members of my executive team gaped at me. Apparently, they couldn’t conceive of why I wouldn’t want to listen to them discuss earnings and dividends for hours on end.

“But sir, we haven’t…” The CFO faltered at my glare. “Of course. I’ll send the full reports to you right away so you can review them at your leisure.”

I logged off, restless. The thunderstorm outside matched my mood and cast a dreary gray pall over my home office.

At least I wasn’t at my corporate headquarters, suffering constant interruptions. I hated the song and dance of corporate life. The bowing, the scraping, the ass-kissing from yes-men who would leap into an ocean of piranhas if I told them to.

I’d built Markovic Holdings from the ground up after college. At first, the challenge had intoxicated me. The money and status that came with it also provided an additional buffer in case the Brothers went back on their word and sought retribution.

However, after thirteen years of stocks, mergers, and product launches, I was so bored I’d contemplated shooting someone just to liven things up.

Perhaps I should pay Hank a visit and use him as an example. Ayana’s discomfort around him at the Vault hadn’t escaped my notice, but he still held the keys to her career. I couldn’t make my move yet.

When I did, it would be thorough. It was better to take one’s time and do something properly than rush into it—no matter how badly I wanted to smash Ayana’s agent’s face in the minute we returned to New York.

Instead, I settled for opening the dossier on Beaumont again. I had my network looking into the Brotherhood, but the organization had overhauled its operations over the years. Some of my old sources were dead; the others were cast out in the cold.

It was taking longer to get answers than I would’ve liked, but I would get them. Until then, I needed something else to take my mind off the fucking wedding.