CHAPTER 58: HOME

Chapter 58

JACE MARINO

The house was too quiet for a Monday. I woke up before the sun and expected to hear Marco somewhere in the kitchen arguing on the phone or Mateo dragging his boots across the hallway. Instead there was nothing but the soft hum of the heater and the kind of silence that makes you feel like the world is holding its breath.

Aiko and his boyfriend are probably still in. They rarely come out since they got here.

I got dressed fast. I had a meeting with the Russian front men and I already had a headache thinking about it. I tugged on my shirt and stepped out into the living room. Mateo was leaning against the counter eating cereal straight out of the box like a kid who didn’t care about digestion. Marco sat on the couch putting on gloves even though we were not heading into a fight.

"You ready?" I asked him.

He didn’t look up. "Not coming."

I stopped. "What?"

"I got things to do," he said like it was nothing. He stood and started checking his pockets like he was preparing for something but not telling me what.

Mateo raised a brow. "Since when?"

Marco ignored him.

I stepped closer. "You want to try that again? We have the Russians today."

"I said I got things to do," Marco said. He finally looked at me. His eyes were tired but sharp. The kind of sharp that meant he was keeping something from me. "Handle the meeting without me."

"Handle the meeting without you," I repeated. "You know what you sound like right now?"

"Like someone who doesn’t care about sitting in a room with Russians for six hours," he said.

I stared him down. "Marco. What are you doing?"

He smirked a little. "Nothing illegal."

That meant nothing. Everything we did was illegal.

I looked at Mateo. "You know what he’s up to?"

Mateo shook his head. Honest. "No. He’s been weird since Saturday."

Marco grabbed his jacket. "Just go. You guys will be late."

Then he walked out. No explanation. No chance to stop him.

I wanted to chase after him but the day was already packed and if I let my attention split even one inch everything would explode again. We did not have room for more trouble. Not today. Not this week. Not with Takeda circling, not with my father watching every move I made, and not with the Russians expecting a show of stability.

Mateo sighed. "We going?"

"Yeah." I rubbed my face. "Let’s go."

By the time we pulled up to The London Suite, the snow was melting into gray slush along the curb. The hotel looked like something stolen out of a billionaire’s fever dream. Glass walls, marble pillars, and a chandelier in the lobby that was probably worth more than most people’s houses. But everyone in our business knew what the place really was. Deals were negotiated in the penthouses. Bodies disappeared in the basements. The building had two faces and neither one was friendly.

Mateo walked ahead while I checked the time. The Russians were already twenty minutes late. That told me everything I needed to know.

"They are doing it on purpose," I muttered.

Mateo shrugged. "Probably."

I hated lateness. Lateness was disrespect. Lateness was a way to show control without saying anything. But I swallowed it because I had to. This deal mattered. I needed it to hold together if everything else I was planning was going to work.

We sat in the private lounge. Mateo stretched his legs out and looked half asleep while I kept tapping my thumb on my knee. A waiter passed by and offered champagne which I waved off. I did not want anything from this place. I wanted the Russians to show up, sign the papers, and leave.

After another twenty minutes the elevator doors opened.

The front man walked in first. Tall. Blond hair slicked back. Thick shoulders. The kind of guy who spent too much time in a gym and not enough time thinking. Four men followed him, all in black suits that did not fit well which meant they were probably carrying everything from pistols to ceramic knives under them. One of them held a black briefcase.

"Jace Marino," the front man boomed. His voice sounded like gravel. He walked up and gripped my shoulder too hard. "You look tired. Business doing well?"

Mateo shifted instantly. His hand slid toward his jacket where he kept a foldable knife. I raised two fingers without looking at him. Stand down.

It wasn’t fear. If we wanted these men gone, they would be gone before the hotel staff even noticed the mess. But I didn’t need a fight. I needed a signature.

"Let’s get this done," I said.

He grinned like he thought he was in charge. "Of course. But first we talk."

I held my patience by the throat.

We sat at the small table. The men stood behind him like a wall waiting to drop.

He opened with small talk. Boring talk. Questions about our businesses. Questions he already knew the answers to. He leaned on the table and asked about our night club fire as if he wasn’t secretly happy it happened. Then he brought up shipments.

That was the heart of the deal.

"We want control of all incoming shipments," I said. "Every shipment passes through us before it reaches your buyers."

He raised a brow. "All shipments? That is a large request."

"You already agreed," I said.

"The boss agreed," he corrected. "Not me."

I wanted to laugh in his face. This guy was a front man. A puppet. Acting like he had power he didn’t. But I didn’t show that. I kept my voice calm.

"You stall long enough and you lose the deal."

"You threaten us?" he asked.

"No. I’m telling you simple math."

He sat back and crossed his arms. He kept asking stupid questions. Pointless ones. He asked if we had enough storage. He asked if we could handle the weight. He asked about routes. He acted like a man who knew nothing which made it obvious he was testing me. Testing my patience. Testing if I would snap.

I didn’t. Barely.

The hours dragged. Two. Three. My jaw hurt from clenching. Mateo looked ready to break the glass table. The Russians whispered among themselves, pretending they needed more time.

Finally the front man nodded at the guy with the briefcase. The man placed it on the table and clicked it open. The contract sat inside.

The front man signed his name slowly like he was painting a masterpiece. When he slid the paper toward me I signed without hesitation.

"Good working with you," he said.

"Sure," I said.

He stood and shook my hand too long. Then they all left.

The moment the door closed behind them I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

"Please tell me we’re done," Mateo said.

"We’re done."

"Good." He stood and stretched like a cat. "Let’s get home. You look like you are about to pass out."

I didn’t argue because my head felt heavy. My hands shook a little which only happened when I was either furious or exhausted. I was both.

"Let’s go," I said.

We walked out of the hotel and into the car. The sun was already going down. The drive back was quiet. Mateo didn’t ask about Marco. I didn’t ask about Marco. We were too tired to worry out loud.

When we pulled into the driveway of the safe house my chest unclenched a little. Home. Or the closest thing to it.

Mateo unlocked the door.

The moment the door opened I saw him.

He stood in the hallway wearing a hoodie that was slightly too big and holding a bag in his hand like he just walked in seconds ago. His face lit up when he saw me. Not a small smile. A real one. Warm and relieved. Like I was the one who came home from war and not just a meeting.

I didn’t remember getting out of the car. One second I was standing there staring at him and the next second he was in my arms.

"Jace," he said quietly.

I held him tighter. I didn’t care that I probably smelled like hotel air and stress. I pressed my face into his neck and breathed him in. Everything in my body loosened. Every muscle that had been locked all day finally let go.

"What are you doing here?" My voice came out softer than I meant.

He laughed into my chest. "Surprising you."

"It worked," I said.

Mateo walked past us like he saw nothing. "Welcome back Julian."

"Hi Mateo," Julian said while still hugging me.

I pulled back enough to see his face. His eyes looked tired but happy. A little nervous too.

"You good?" I asked.

He nodded. "Better now."

I rested my forehead against his. "You should have told me you were coming."

"I wanted to see your face," he said.

And I couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

I held him again. Longer this time. Like if I let go he would vanish.

Home finally felt like home.