Page 29 of Twisted Pact

I lean against the counter and watch her work. “Pulling away yesterday was the right call.”

“I didn’t ask for your justification.”

“I’m giving it anyway.”

She finally looks at me with hazel eyes full of fury. “You don’t get to kiss me like that and pretend it was noble. You wanted me. I wanted you. Everything else is just you deciding what’s best for me without asking what I want.”

She pours coffee into two mugs before she adds, “Just like you decided to confiscate my keys and phone. Just like you decided that I couldn’t attend classes in person. Just like you’re deciding every aspect of my life right now.”

I accept the mug she shoves at me. “Someone has to make smart decisions.”

“There it is again. That patronizing tone that assumes I’m either too stupid or too naive to understand danger.”

“I never said you were stupid.”

“You didn’t have to. Every action you’ve taken since you brought me here screams that you think I need to be managed like a child who can’t be trusted with her choices.”

I take a long drink of coffee to avoid responding. She’s not wrong; I have been making decisions for her. But there’s no alternative.

“I have a paper due Friday,” she declares after a moment. “For my international business law class. Professor Daughtry doesn’t accept late submissions, regardless of circumstances.”

“You have internet access,” I point out.

“It’s not that simple. The paper is on real companies that live in legal gray zones. I need sources I can’t find online.”

“You’re researching companies like ours.”

“I’m researching the legal frameworks that allow criminal organizations to operate businesses without attracting federal prosecution.” She makes eye contact over the rim of her mug. “Fascinating stuff. The number of shell corporations and offshore accounts required to maintain plausible deniability is impressive.”

“Is that what you think we do? Hide behind shell corporations?”

“Isn’t it?” She sets her mug down and crosses her arms. “Both our families own half a dozen ‘legitimate’ businesses each that share board members with known criminal enterprises. And somehow, despite multiple investigations, nothing ever sticks because the paper trail is too convoluted to follow.”

I watch her face while she talks. The way her eyes brighten when she’s discussing something that interests her. How her demeanor changes from angry captive to engaged academic.

She’s smart. Really fucking smart. And she’s been paying attention to details most people miss.

“You’ve done your homework,” I acknowledge.

“I obviously can’t even begin to implicate my father, so I’ve been looking into yours. Your family’s business practices make excellent case study material.”

“Glad we could contribute to your education.”

“Don’t deflect. I’m trying to understand how someone can run an organization like yours and still sleep at night. How you justify the violence and corruption by pointing to the legitimate businesses you maintain as cover.”

The question isn’t accusatory; she genuinely wants to understand the contradiction. Most people either accept what we do without question or condemn it outright. Mila wants to pick apart the logic and see how the pieces fit together.

“You want the truth?” I ask.

“That would be refreshing.”

“The legitimate businesses aren’t just a cover. They employ hundreds of people who have nothing to do with our other operations. Employees with families who depend on those paychecks. I can’t speak for your father’s operations, but our shipping company moves legal cargo ninety percent of the time. The import-export businesses facilitate real trade relationships.”

“And the other ten percent?”

“It funds everything else. It keeps our people paid, our borders protected, and the feds off our backs.”

She gives me a thoughtful nod. “So, you’re arguing that the legitimate enterprises serve a dual purpose. They provide legal income while also creating infrastructure for illegal operations.”