Zach takes Anton in. “You like to fix things.”
“I like things that are fixable,” Anton admits. “I like to put them to order, to organize them, improve them, and profit from them. To do that, however, they have to be a manageable quantity and have periods in which their numbers lessen to such an extent that I can rest, step back, and be proud.” He shakes his head. “I don’t like your type of brilliancy, it’s painful. That’s not for me.”
“From what I hear, you do just fine with yours,” Zach replies calmly.
“Don, right?” Anton smiles again. “A consigliere for now. Something I have high hopes for my brother to be when Dad passes on the torch. You, too.”
Zach frowns, lips pressed together.
“I know, I know,” Anton says and his hand gestures a dismissal. “You want to keep a distance. So does
