A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Thirty-Six: Espionage

Now I know how the women I've fucked have felt.

I stare at myself in the mirror, wondering why I'm so concerned with looking presentable for dinner with my father. I haven't seen him in months; he's enjoying his retirement, staying in the shadows and making sure I don't fuck up his life's work. I've kept my bargain up with the Quintanilla's against my better judgment and I've kept my end of the bargain up with dating Claire. But now I'm wondering if it's even worth it; is being my father's puppet worth the confliction in order to keep Leslie safe? It just seems like it's hurting her the more I get involved; Ramona Malatova and her intervening in Leslie seeing her mother has proven that.

I shake the thoughts from my head and drive over to the restaurant my father told me and Claude to meet him at (he instructed that we arrive in different cars, refraining from any cell phone communication on the way there). It's very small; empty but quaint. This doesn't seem like a restaurant my father would go to.

I park and make my way to the entrance. I see Claude standing outside, refusing to go inside until I'm in plain sight. He's refusing to talk; words can harm us.

We walk into the restaurant, completely empty except for several men dressed in dark suits, bright gold and ruby pins on their chests. The tables are circular and large, but without parties to fill them. Claude and I walk slowly, examining the place and any possible exits.

"Sebastian," I hear my father say. My blood boils at the sound of his voice, especially when I hear my name come out of his mouth. I pivot to face him but pause when I notice a woman next to him, dressed in fine satin and expensive jewels. I recognize her from photos - Ramona Malatova, Queen Mother of Venetia.

Leslie's grandmother.

Immediately, Claude walks forward and kisses Ramona's hand, masking his shock painfully well. It's only polite to do so considering she's royalty, so I do the same. She smiles faintly before sitting down at the table, my dad sitting down shortly after.

"I apologize for the short notice," my father starts. "I'm happy you made time in your busy schedule to accommodate us."

"Really," Ramona stresses, "we are grateful. It's so nice to finally meet you two in person. Care for wine?"

Ramona reaches for the wine in the ice bucket centering the table and begins pouring everyone's glasses herself. Claude and I slowly turn to look at each other; our faces hold a thousand words. We turn to face Ramona and my father once the last glass of wine is filled. It's Venetian red wine - not my favorite, but I sip anyway and stop myself from downing the whole goddamn glass.

What the fuck is going on?

"I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of pre-ordering our meals to make for a quicker discussion," my father says.

"I don't know why - there's no one in here anyway."

Claude kicks my leg under the table, shutting me up quickly. My father laughs at my crassness before drinking his wine.

"I know you're confused as to why we're here, so well make our discussion very blunt." My father looks to Ramona, who nods with a smile. It's frightening how much Leslie looks like her. "We're aware of Leslie's recent visit to Venetia in the hopes of coming into contact with Genina Malatova."

"Her mother," Ramona adds. "We're also aware of the efforts you two made in order to put the pieces together regarding Leslie's heritage. Is this true?"

"It is," Claude answers while I remain silent, my eyes glued to my father in the hopes of trying to find out his intentions. Claude and I had no time to convene before this dinner; our answers and response times won't be the same.