Page 52 of No Sweeter Poison

Instinct propels me to intervene. “Abuelo—”

“Lettie has told me some,” Dahlia admits.

“Define some.”

“Lettie gave me a brief rundown…Vito and Michael Corleone and all that.”

I stare at her but she keeps her eyes on Abuelo, something like a hint of mischief in her voice. Amazing that even intimidated and out of her element, she never loses that about her.

“I’m sure my grandson has already said as much however, I want to make it very clear that you are a guest in our home. And if there’s anything you need or want, it’ll be given to you.” He asserts, “We’re responsible for you until the time comes that we part ways. But that won’t happen until it’s safe to do so.”

She presses her lips together. “Any idea on when that’ll be?”

Abuelo gestures with a hand before leaning against the back of his chair. “That all depends. My cousin’s grandson’s involvement complicates matters—”

Dahlia sits up. “Wait. Cousin?”

He frowns. “Does that surprise you?”

“Abuelo, basta,” I push out my seat. “No quiero que ella sepa todo eso.”

“¿Y por qué no?”

“Porque no. Dahlia.” I get to my feet. “Let’s go.”

“Stop that!” She grips the armrests. “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here. I want to know.” She turns her attention to Abuelo. “I don’t understand. If you’re related then why would Sandro try to kill his own cousin?”

“Esa es una historia muy larga y complicada.” He studies Dahlia’s reaction. He’s spoken to her in English up until now but I’m not sure he knows she can’t understand him. “Sandro’s grandfather and I were closer than brothers. However, decades later, I’m one of the last few of my generation still standing and our families have been in conflict for many years.”

He continues, “Alejandro wishes to go legitimate. I have no preference but it was his father’s dream and I won’t be here twenty, thirty years from now. But he will be and so will his children. I’ve left the decision up to him.”

Her eyes find mine across the table. “That would’ve been helpful to know.”

My grip on the edge of the table tightens.

“Sandro’s branch of the family is the only other one based here in Barcelona. He thinks he’s entitled to inherit our territory and businesses once we make the shift to legitimization.” Abuelo pauses a moment before continuing. “My grandchildren disagree. They and the other families of the city believe it would throw off the fragile balance of power, especially as the Russians, Italians, Irish, and the Balkans establish themselves in the region.”

I push away from the table, blood boiling. “Why not just give her the nuclear codes while you’re at it?”

Abuelo ignores me. “I’m inclined to agree. Sandro’s type of business is what his grandfather and I would’ve called dirty sixty years ago. He inherited none of his grandfather’s humanity and all of his power-hungry tendencies.”

Dahlia sinks back in her seat, the wheels clearly turning in her head.

This is exactly what I didn’t want. For her to know too much, to ask questions I can’t answer. She’s curious by nature and the last thing I need is for that curiosity to spiral out of control. I’m trying to keep this as contained as I can. The less she knows, the better.

We’re never coming out of this unscathed, are we?

Abuelo rises from his seat. “I’ll let the two of you have your privacy.”

My grandfather leaves the room and almost as soon as he’s gone, Dahlia’s on her feet, stalking toward the door. I make my way around the table.

“Dahlia—”

She spins around. “Is there anything else you’re hiding from me? Because I swear to God—”

“I told you what you needed to know,” I retort. “The rest is irrelevant. A fucking history lesson in La Familia Narvaez wasn’t going to keep you safe.”

“And neither can you, apparently.”