Page 13 of Reign of a Billionaire

“What’s wrong with you?” I questioned.

“His oldest is rebelling,” Byron remarked. “He’s worried because he hasn’t heard from her in a few days.”

“I’m sure you can track her via phone,” I pointed out.

“She has it turned off,” he gritted.

“Is that what I have to look forward to with my children?” Byron mused. “Sleepless nights and rebellion?”

“For your sake, I hope not,” Kristoff retorted dryly. “You might be left without any hair.”

My brother served a few deployments with Kristoff, the latter saving his life on his last tour. Byron was lucky to come out of it with only burns on his back.

I twisted my face as the two of them marveled at the joys and stress of parenthood and marriage. It wasn’t jealousy, I told myself. It had nothing to do with the fact that I couldn’t relate. Or maybe it had everything to do with it.

My thoughts drifted to Liana Volkov and a sardonic breath left me at her show of confidence back at the restaurant. Admittedly, it also left me puzzled. It intrigued me—troubled me even—that there was no recognition in her eyes. She couldn’t remember me.

I shook my head, chasing the thoughts of her away. I spent more time than I liked with that woman on my mind. That had to stop.

“Is everything okay?” Byron asked, studying me.

“Yes.”

Kristoff leaned back into his seat. “I recognize that look.”

I gave him a puzzled look. So did my brother. “What look?” I questioned.

Kristoff smiled, amusement flashing in his gaze. “Someone important, a woman, must be occupying your mind.”

He was only partially right. Liana was a woman, but she wasn’t important to me. I pushed my fingers through my hair, the motion something I’d done more than I’d like to admit in the recent days.

It was at that moment that a familiar figure caught my attention. Giovanni Agosti was seated at the table opposite from us.

“Excuse me,” I said, getting to my feet and making my way to his table. His expression was solemn as he looked up to find me sliding into the chair opposite him.

“By all means, I wasn’t waiting for a date,” he muttered dryly.

Giovanni was part of the Thorns of Omertà, although for the most part kept to himself. “What are you doing in the city?”

He raised a brow. “Are you writing a book about me that I don’t know about?”

Odd. He usually wasn’t the dodging type. I cast a look at our surroundings. “I am.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Please leave out this chapter.” My lips twitched. I would swear he was about to roll his eyes but stopped himself. “I have to attend my uncle’s… event.”

I raised a brow. “Event?” He nodded. “Isn’t your uncle in Boston?”

His jaw clenched before he answered, “This is my other uncle.”

“Otheruncle?” I repeated slowly.

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes on me, his tone matching mine. “And I want to talk about this as much as you want to talk about your kidnapping by Ivan Petrov and your time under Sofia’s imprisonment.”

The temperature dropped, both of us emanating resentment and eyes blazing.

“Brave of you to bring that up. Have a death wish?” The threat escaped me, so calm and deadly it stilled the air.