Page 94 of Brox Boar

Alessio looks good. His suit is expensive. His hair is styled. Shoes immaculate. He walks in carrying his entitlement like he always does, but sadly, that’s what got him here and now. He glances at Lana a beat too long, then returns his attention to Rio, then me, measuring.

Shiaou steps forward, palm out.

Alessio’s brows lift. “Seriously?”

Shiaou’s expression doesn’t change. “Rules.”

“In a home?” Alessio asks.

Shiaou holds the gaze. “In this home.”

Alessio’s smile tightens. He looks to me. I give him nothing. He looks to Rio. Rio gives him less.

A second later, Alessio reaches inside his jacket. He pulls out a handgun and sets it into Shiaou’s palm. Then another. Then a blade, sleek and polished. He removes each weapon calmly, making a performance out of compliance.

Shiaou checks each item quickly and nods once, before leaving the dining room.

Rio rises first. I rise second. Lana remains seated, her eyes lifted, her posture perfect. Queen at the center.

“Alessio,” Rio says.

“Rio. Brox.” Alessio offers a nod, then turns and nods at Lana.

“Hi,” she says, sweet enough to make a fool smile.

Alessio pulls out his chair and sits where Rio indicates. Not the head. Not the seat nearest the exit. A seat angled between us. Alessio sits, then adjusts his cufflinks, pretending he chose the position.

Rio pours him a glass of champagne, the bubbles rise and cling to the glass, bright and alive.

“Happy birthday,” Alessio says to Lana, lifting his glass.

Lana smiles. “Thank you.”

I sit back and watch. My suit fits clean across my shoulders, a simple uniform for what we do. I don’t need theater. I need outcome.

Alessio starts small talk. He’s good at it.

“How’s business?” he asks, eyes on me first.

“Better,” I reply. “The split rooms work.”

He nods, pleased. “I said it would.”

I shrug. “Club makes more money now.”

Alessio’s grin grows. His ego loves praise. His ego always leads him by the throat. He turns to Rio. “City inspectors stay quiet?”

Rio sips champagne. “City inspectors stay obedient.”

Alessio chuckles, trying to mirror Rio’s calm, failing. “Good. It’s always nice when the city stays cooperative.”

Lana leans in slightly, resting her chin on her hand. Rio sets his glass down and finally gives Alessio a question.

“Where is Morti?”

Alessio pauses mid-breath. His eyes flick away, then return to Rio.

“Not feeling good.” he replies.