“What’s going on?” Pika asks.
“I believe the relationship between Paulie and his son is about to change drastically.”
Understanding flashes through Pika’s eyes before he asks, “How long do you think we’ve got?”
“Not sure. I know it will take a couple of months to get stuff set up, and I won’t bring her here until I know the new house is secure. This situation has been in the works for a while, so we have time, but I need to be here when shit goes down.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised he’s waited this long,” Junior mutters and leaves the room with his phone in his hand.
“What do we need to do?” Pika questions.
“We need to figure out who all the players are before we make our move. From what I understand, Thad told Paulie Jr. he knew who Myla’s parents were. Paulie, being who he is, knew that, if he could marry her, he would gain access to all of the land and properties her father had. In turn, he would become more powerful than his father, finally getting what he has wanted since he was sixteen.”
“Why would Thad be involved? What does he have to gain from the situation?”
“That’s what I want to know,” I mutter, running a hand over my jaw.
“She’s afraid of him,” Pika says quietly.
“She is. She hasn’t spoken to me about why she fears him, but I know she does. She moved in with his family when she was young. She wasn’t even really old enough to build real memories of her biological parents at that point, so all I can think is he scared her and she never got over it,” I say, but something in my gut tells me that her fear has a much larger foundation than that.
“I don’t know, man.” Pika shakes his head.
I know he has seen the fear that comes into her eyes even when just her brother’s name is brought up.
My jaw clenches and I growl, “Let me worry about Myla.”
“Done,” he mutters, holding up his hands, hearing the warning in my voice.
“We need to meet Rich,” Junior says, coming back into the room.
“Let’s go,” I say.
We go out to the car, and this time, Junior gets behind the wheel and Pika hops in the back seat. When we arrive at the law firm, Rich and his father are both waiting. I let them know as much as I can. Rich’s father has been taking care of my family since before I was born, but I trust anyone only so much.
“Are you heading back home?” Rich asks.
I look at him and shake my head. “No, I need to find a house here in Vegas before I leave.”
“You’ve got your condo,” he says, confused.
“I can’t control the building. I need to find something out of town that has a few acres.”
“I know an agent. I’ll get you the info.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, shaking his hand before heading back out to the car.
I now have a few days to get things done before heading back to Hawaii and explaining to Myla why we will be staying in Vegas for a while. I know she feels safe at home, and I hate taking her out of that environment, but I need to be here, and I won’t be here without her.
Over the next two days, I look at over two dozen houses, and I am just about to give up and go home to my wife when I finally find a house I know Myla will love. It’s a two-story adobe-style home on twenty acres. The house is much smaller than our house in Hawaii, but its open floor plan and updates are perfect for what we need, and I know my men can make it secure enough for us to live there comfortably while staying in Vegas.
*
I walk into the house and go to the kitchen, wanting to grab a bottle of water before heading to find Myla. She doesn’t know I’m home yet. We spoke earlier in the afternoon, and I told her I would see her tomorrow, but after signing the contract on the house, I got on the plane to come home. My body felt like I was going through withdrawals from being away from her.
I open the fridge, and I’m grabbing a bottle of water when something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I stand to my full height and flip the overhead light on. My eyes take in a cake that looks like it could grace the cover of a cookbook. I walk towards it and take in all the detailing. The white frosting looks smooth yet creamy. Three layers sit tiered one on top of the other, each layer displaying a single flower so perfect that, if you were not looking closely, you would believe they were real.
“You didn’t tell me it was your birthday. Uncle Frank mentioned it, and I couldn’t believe that I didn’t know.”
I look from the cake to my woman, my wife, who is wearing a pair of light sleep pants and a tank top. Her shoulder is resting against the doorjamb, her arms crossed under her breasts, lifting them higher, and the mass of hair she normally keeps tied up is down around her shoulders, framing her face.
“I never celebrate it,” I tell her, and I honestly didn’t even remember it’s my birthday until this moment.
“That’s what they said, but I wanted to make you a cake anyways.” She shrugs.
I like that. I could imagine her floating around the kitchen, baking a cake with a smile on her face—the smile I only ever see on her when she’s doing something she loves.
“You gonna feed me a piece?”
Her eyes go half-mast, and that look has my cock jerking in my pants. I step towards her, placing a hand on her hip, then look over her shoulder, seeing my uncle standing in the hall.
“Frank, you’re dismissed.”