CHAPTER TWENTY
“Valentina has been starving herself, Marcus. You need to call them back,” Steve said, voice tight with frustration.
Marcus slammed the office door behind him so hard that a framed portrait of their late grandfather tilted sideways.
“For Christ’s sake, why do I have to deal with those riffraff?” he snapped, pacing like a lion in a too-small cage. “They stormed out like they had anything substantial to offer.”
He threw a hand toward the bookshelf, knocking over a stack of architectural journals. “No respect or gratitude. Nothing!”
Steve leaned against the door, arms crossed, calm in that annoyingly perceptive way of his. “Maybe because you treated them like... employees. Or parolees. Pick your poison.”
“I gave them a solution,” Marcus barked. “I gave them a damn olive b
