Dangerous Melodies - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

ROBERTO
The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of streetlights spilling through the blinds. Marcos drove his fist into the wall, the dull crunch of drywall giving way beneath his knuckles. His jaw locked tight. His eyes caught the light, sharp and predatory.
“That fucking bitch has ruined everything! Your worthless bastard of a daughter chose that Kincade prick over the family, and now look where we are. I should’ve killed her.”
I leaned back in my leather chair, cold and unreadable. The fury rolling off him didn’t touch me. I didn’t even blink.
“Mind your tone, Montoya,” I said, smooth and unshaken. “Marisol may be a thorn in your side, but she’s more valuable alive and married to Kincade than she ever was tied to you.
“Her only worth was in the connections she could bring. And now she’s done exactly that.”
He started pacing, his fists clenched tight at his sides.
“Valuable? That fucker froze my accounts, stopped my shipments, and then had the gall to unfreeze them like he’s doing me a favor. He’s mocking us, Roberto. And it’s all because of that useless whore you call a daughter.”
My expression didn’t change, but I was getting annoyed.
“Marisol’s not my daughter,” I said, voice dipping with cool precision. “She was a package deal with her mother.
“And now that her mother’s dead, her value is purely transactional. That transaction, as it stands, has tied us to Dante Kincade.”
He sneered at my logic. He heard the strategy in every word, and it infuriated him.
“You’re going to let that bastard play us like this? He’s walking all over us because your little bastard ran off and married him. She should’ve been mine. And we both know it.”
My lips curled into a thin, calculating smile. “Let him think he’s in control. Kincade’s powerful, but his emotions make him vulnerable. We can exploit that.
“As for you, Marcos, don’t be foolish. Your anger is justified, but it’s clouding your judgment.”
Marcos paced again, but slower now. The rage hadn’t dimmed. It had simply shifted, finding shape. I watched it happen. Watched the storm behind his eyes reorganize into something colder, more surgical.
He wanted blood, but he’d settle for power. At least for now.
I stood and walked to the liquor cabinet, the soft clink of glass a careful counterpoint to the tension crackling between us. I poured two fingers of scotch, didn’t offer him any. He wouldn’t take it if I did.
“Kincade didn’t just move first,” I said without turning. “He moved clean. No bodies, no mess. And he sent a message in the process: that he could destroy you, but chose not to.”
Marcos muttered something under his breath. I let it hang.
“That’s not mercy,” I continued. “It’s leverage. And we’re going to treat it like currency.”
He scoffed. “You want me to grovel?”
“No,” I said, finally facing him. “I want you to make him believe he’s already won. Let him drop his guard. Then we press.”
I could see the reluctance twisting in him. It bruised his ego. Marcos was a weapon, blunt and volatile. Asking him to wait, to think, was like forcing a blade to bend.
But even he had to understand—we were outplayed. And the only way back in was through patience.
“I’ve handled men like Kincade before,” I said. “They all make the same mistake. They think control is permanent. But power shifts. Loyalty fractures. And even the most fortified empires collapse from within.”
I paused, letting that sink in. Then: “The wife is our opening.”
Marcos flinched at that. A subtle tell. I noted it.
“She’s soft,” he muttered. “She’ll crack under pressure.”
“No,” I corrected. “She’s sentimental. That’s not the same as weak. And Kincade’s blind to that. He thinks protecting her is strength. But it’s the one place he can’t see the knife coming.”
I leaned forward, my eyes sharp. “Kincade returned your assets, didn’t he? He gave you a warning, not a death sentence. That means he’s not ready to destroy you yet.
“There’s room to maneuver here. If we’re smart.”
Marcos’s eyes blazed with fury. “You think I’m going to sit here and be grateful? He humiliated me, Roberto. No one does that and walks away unscathed.”
I stood, straightening my tie with intentional calmness. “You’re thinking like a thug, Marcos. This is a chess game, not a street brawl. Kincade’s dangerous, yes, but he can be useful. He’s emotionally compromised where Marisol’s concerned. We can use that to our advantage.”
Marcos’s expression darkened, his voice dripping with venom. “I should’ve had her on her knees, begging for mercy, instead of letting her run off and play house with that corporate prick. She’s nothing more than a spoiled little slut who doesn’t know her place.”
My smile didn’t reach my eyes. “She knows her place now, as Kincade’s wife. And that puts us in a position of power we wouldn’t have otherwise. Don’t be so quick to dismiss the potential here. There’s more at stake than your pride.”
His silence told me more than his words ever had. Marcos stood still, jaw clenched, eyes sharp with calculation. He didn’t lash out, not yet. That alone told me he was already planning something.
I knew that look. The fury simmered, barely contained. He thought I was playing both sides. And he wasn’t wrong.
His smug gaze tracked me. He’d wait me out, bide his time. I could see it, him cutting through the web: Kincade, Marisol, me. All of us gone. Taking the whole damn empire for himself.
Let him fantasize.
When he finally spoke, his voice was tightly wound. “And what of Marisol? She’s a loose end, a liability.”
I met his gaze, letting frost creep into my tone. “Marisol may be a nuisance, but she’s still valuable to my plans. Harm her, and you’ll have more than Kincade to answer to. Jeopardize this, and you risk everything.”
He stared at me for a beat too long. There was no misunderstanding in his eyes now. He knew.
And for the first time, he realized he was no longer the one being protected. He was being managed.
He nodded, slow and tight, masking rage behind a veneer of control. “Fine. I’ll stand down. But make no mistake, this isn’t over.”
I let a cold, calculating smile curl at the edge of my mouth. “Of course not. This is just the beginning.”
Marcos turned and stormed out of the room. He didn’t say another word, but I could feel the heat of his fury trailing after him like a fuse waiting to blow.
Let him pretend.
I saw it in his eyes. He was already planning his next move. He’d wait, circle back, and try to take everything when he thought I wasn’t looking.
He thinks this is still his game.
I returned to my desk, the silence heavy with moves yet to be made. Marcos thinks he can outmaneuver me, but he’s just a pawn in a much larger game. And in the end, everyone’s expendable: Marisol, Marcos, even Kincade.
One thing was certain. Dante Kincade had changed the game. And I would make damn sure the Franco family came out on top.