Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
He lifted his brows. “All of them?”
“Hire extra security if you have to. And show them all pictures of every Outfit capo, enforcer, underboss… Sooner or later, they’ll do something. Romano wants something. There’s a reason he hasn’t left the city.”
“You think he might go for Luca again?”
The thought panicked me for a moment. If he got to Luca, he could get Emilia. “No, the house is too heavily guarded. He wouldn’t be that stupid.” Still, I fired off a text to Tommy to check that everything was okay there.
He responded, saying it was, and Emilia was fine.
I turned to Jackson. “Go to the warehouse and keep working on the one you kept alive from the attack on Luca. I’ll talk to the guys here and wrap up some things, then I’ll join you.” God knows I wanted to break some Outfit bones right about now.
Jackson pushed to his feet and left.
Fuck, there was just no end in sight with this shit.
I’d only been alone for a few minutes when there was a knock on the glass door that led to the club. It opened with a boom of music. Laylah strode inside with a tray in hand, a single glass of whiskey balanced on it. Not like I couldn’t use a drink right now.
“I brought your drink.”
“Thank you, Laylah,” I said without looking at her.
She put the glass on my desk before perching on the wooden surface, so close that my elbow brushed her thigh. One leg slowly crossed over the other, her already short dress riding up her thighs. The scent of her perfume invaded my nostrils, cloying and over-powering.
“That will be all—”
“Gio.” Her hand landed on my chest, sliding slightly beneath my jacket, intimately, far too intimately.
I was already pissed after Romano’s bullshit, but fuck. I grabbed her wrist, squeezing hard enough that she winced slightly.
“What is on my left hand, Laylah?”
She whimpered, and I tilted my head to the side.
“I didn’t catch that?”
“A…a ring.”
“A wedding ring.”
“I…I thought...”
“You thought what?” I pushed to my feet, shoving her hand away.
She stumbled over her words, her cheeks turning red.
“The next time you touch me, you will find yourself unemployed, Laylah. Now get the fuck out.”
She hurried for the door, clutching her wrist. I collapsed back in my chair, letting out a long breath.
If I had the time to train a new club manager, I would fire her right now for that shit. If there was one thing I couldn’t stomach, it was disrespect, and implying that I would cheat on my wife, well, that was insulting.
Luckily for Laylah, I was neck-deep in Outfit and mob bullshit right now.
My chest was tight, my heart pounding out an angry beat against my ribs. I needed a damn outlet. Fighting or fucking preferably.
Picking up the whiskey, I downed it before pushing to my feet. Adamo was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.
“Take me to the warehouse.” I was going to punch something or someone.
Staring out at the darkness beyond my office window, I lifted my glass of whiskey to my lips. The ice tinkling against the crystal broke through the deafening silence that could only be found in the early hours of the morning.
I loved this time. It felt as though the entire world was asleep, but it wasn’t. Creatures such as me slipped through the darkness unseen, making sordid business dealings. Torturing Outfit members for information. Not that the one we captured from the attempted hit on Luca could tell us anything. Only that Matteo ordered them to do it. They hadn’t heard from Sergio, didn’t know where he was.
So, Matteo was his go-between. Ergo, if we could get Romano, we would get Sergio. Simple.
Una had a string of loose leads on Sergio, but even she admitted the man was like a ghost. The fact that she, one of the best assassins in the world with a wealth of resources, couldn’t find him, was alarming. But of course, he knew Nero was married to her, that we would likely utilize her. Especially after he had employed Sasha’s services.
It all felt like an ax hanging over my head. No, our heads. Emilia was now well and truly in the firing line with me. And that was what kept me awake at night instead of being wrapped around my wife.
Worse, I couldn’t see an end in sight. Even if we killed Romano and Sergio, then what? A new capo would step up and take over. The mob still thought I’d had O’Hara killed. Peace was a distant dream, and I loathed Sergio for putting me in this position.
I might have felt encouraged if Luca were at least open to discussion. But he was no closer to coming around, though I hadn’t spoken to him in person since he’d threatened Emilia. I’d made her a promise not to kill him, and if he said a single cross word to her or about her in front of me, I might not keep that promise.