“You learned the loyalty lesson once,” she hissed, but she said it like she wished she didn’t have to. “The way you carry on, Liv, he’s not sure it sunk in.”

“I did learn a lesson,” I agreed. “However, I will note that the lesson taught did not buy loyalty. It bought hatred. And in order to end this discussion once and for all, I’ll stop pussyfooting around and say it out loud. I loathe that man. Since he never liked me much, I returned the favor. But after that, I hated him. The only reason I do what I do is not loyalty to him. It’s because it’s the only livelihood I have. Then there’s the small fact I have absolutely no other choice. And last, the only good part about it all, I do it because I love you.”

She sat back at my last, her face growing soft.

I watched her reaction wishing I didn’t love her. It might make some things much easier.

But I did because she was my sister. I did because she’d always, as best she could, took my back.

And her showing so readily how much it meant to her was another one of the reasons why.

“Needless to say,” I sallied forth, “we need the money back that David stole so if you’d like to take a break from our pleasant conversation at this juncture to give that order to Gill, I’ll wait. Or, if you’d prefer I do it, I’ll take that opportunity now.”

“I’ll do it,” she muttered, reaching for her purse.

I sipped Prosecco while she did, trying not to think how different this was—having this conversation again with my sister, talking about a business I did not want to be in, harking back again to all that happened which should be history, but I had to admit (regrettably due partially to me) it had not yet been laid to rest—doing all that with something to look forward to in my imminent future.

This being dinner at Nick’s that night, something I’d agreed to last night under some duress while fucking in his bed.

Not painful duress.

A different kind.

But (I told myself) the fact remained that I had survived a dinner at his place without anything catastrophic happening. And the same with fucking there every night since, except when we were at the club. Not to mention an ugly conversation with him that still made my heart race because it seemed it was spurred by jealousy he shouldn’t feel and a demand from him of exclusivity I should not have given in to.

Yes, I’d survived all that.

And I’d survive lunch with my sister.

So dinner again with Nick should be a breeze.

Our meals were served while Georgia was still issuing orders to Gill.

I didn’t feel in the mood to be polite, but the truth of it was, I now had two jobs, mine and David’s, so I needed to get moving. Therefore I didn’t wait before I started to eat.

She joined me when she was done on the phone.

“Unless you prefer otherwise, I’ll explain things about David to Dad,” she offered, tucking into her pasta.

“That’d be fine,” I agreed, willing to agree to anything that offered me the opportunity not to be around my father. But definitely not being there when he heard his trusty friend/employee was an embezzler.

“We’ve other things to discuss,” she told me.

“David left a mess so let’s discuss them. I have a great deal to do,” I replied.

“I’ve set up four labs,” she announced. “As of two weeks ago, they’re all fully functional. We’ll have product by the end of next week.”

I stopped with my fork halfway to my mouth and stared at her.

“Sorry?” I whispered.

“Four labs,” she repeated. “It’s taken time and some resources. But the people I have dealing with it know what they’re doing, they source good shit and they cook good shit. Your boys will have product, and a lot of it, by the end of next week. They need to get their shit together to unload it because it’s gonna keep coming.”

“Product?” I asked.

“Ice and E,” she stated casually, and equally casually shoved food in her mouth.

I looked side to side before I leaned her way and hissed, “Georgie!”

I did this for a variety of reasons, including the fact I was just hearing this now and she was calmly discussing cooking meth and ecstasy at fucking Rioja!

“I told you I had a plan,” she replied.

“Does Dad know of your plan?”

She said nothing.

Oh God.

“One,” I began to count down all the things wrong with her going forward with this to the point of production. “Valenzuela hears we’ve got labs, we’re at war.”

“We have territory we’ve kept. We’ll work that careful not to infringe. If we can keep it from him and are smart in selling for long enough, when it’s time to expand, we’ll have soldiers to fight or he’ll be smart enough to let go some turf. And anyway, we’re producing and I’m assured what’s cooked is very good. He might find it in his interests to start buying from us.”

She was insane.

Benito Valenzuela did not have partners. He didn’t make deals. If there was something he wanted or something was happening he did not like, he performed hostile takeovers, the hostile part defined as hostile because it was underlined in blood.

I didn’t argue that. She knew that, this being why she was insane.

Instead, I stated, “Two, when Dad finds out, he’s going to lose his mind.”

She shook her head. “He’ll come around.”