Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
A bouncer catches my gaze and tilts his head toward the stairs. Giorgio stands on the landing, gripping the balustrade. The end of the cigarette in his mouth glows red. He grabs the filter between a forefinger and a thumb and flicks the butt over the rail.
The bouncers at After Dark answer to me. Luigi may think they work for him, but that’s not how I run the club. Although I oversee Obsidian like I manage all Luigi’s assets, I don’t work with these guys every night. I don’t know them well enough to trust them.
Not taking a risk, I hold Anya close to my side and move around the back of the bar, where there are less feet, before taking the stairs.
Giorgio waits in front of the office with a grim look on his face. “In there.”
I open the door of the adjoining private lounge and stick my head around the jamb. The room is empty of people. It’s reserved for management and staff. The only furnishings include a couple of sofas, a coffee table, a bar fridge, and a big screen television mounted on the wall.
Satisfied that there’s no one, I drag Anya inside by the hand and grab a bottle of water from the fridge that I leave on the table.
“Stay here until I come back for you,” I say.
“Where are you going?” she asks, her expression panicked.
I wrap my fingers around her nape, pull her closer, and press a kiss on her forehead. “I promise you’ll be out of here as soon as Kevin arrives.”
I’m already at the door when she says, “Sav.”
My name on her lips stops me. I hover for a moment, tempted to go back and reassure her, but I harden my heart and shut the door. I lock it from the outside and pocket the key.
The smug grin Giorgio usually greets me with is absent. He watches me from under his eyebrows as he brushes his floppy fringe back with his fingers. “This is a fuckup.”
“What happened?” I ask in a clipped tone, walking ahead of him with long strides.
He catches up when I stop in front of the office.
Opening the door, he says, “See for yourself.”
I cross the threshold and take in the scene. Our manager and his second-in-command lie in a puddle of blood on the floor, their shirts torn from the bullet holes that pepper their chests. Luigi stands at the corner of the desk with pursed lips, his knuckles white around the head of his cane. Raphael leans on the wall with his hands shoved in his pockets.
I narrow my eyes. “What’s he doing here?”
Giorgio closes the door. Pointing at the bodies on the floor, he says, “He shot them.”
My gaze is drawn to a gun with a silencer screwed onto the barrel that lies on the desk.
I pin that fucker, Raphael, with a look even as I direct my question at Luigi. “Did he admit it, or is that what we assume?”
“He took the blame,” Luigi spits out.
“Why?” I ask with a cold smile. “Did they insult the size of your dick, Morelli?”
Raphael shrugs. “I didn’t like them.”
Luigi stamps his cane on the floor and says with a purple face, “You don’t walk in here and shoot my men because you don’t fucking like them.”
“They were doing you in, stealing your money,” Raphael says.
Luigi points his cane with a shaky arm at Raphael. “Then show me the fucking evidence.”
Raphael straightens. “Well, they didn’t literally take your money, but the laziness of these cocksuckers cost you at least fifty grand every quarter.”
“What the fuck are you saying?” Giorgio asks with a small laugh.
Raphael pulls back his shoulders. “I’m saying that they did a half-assed job.”
Giorgio laughs harder. “You’re fucking delusional.”
“These were trusted men.” Luigi takes his gun from his waistband and aims the barrel at Raphael’s head. “Elena’s fiancé or not, what you did deserves justice.”
Not a muscle twitches in Raphael’s face. “You made a mistake in trusting them. This place can bring in double the money.” He advances toward Luigi, walking blood all over the floor. “I can prove it.”
Luigi’s upper lip curls. “How?”
“Put me in charge.”
“Of Obsidian?” Giorgio asks with another disbelieving chuckle.
“Give it a year,” Raphael says, holding Luigi’s furious gaze. “If I don’t double your profits, you can shoot me.”
That sly fucking bastard. I ball my hands into fists, knowing what he’s doing. I’d like nothing more than to shoot a hole in his lung and let him drown in his own blood, but—sadly—he’s engaged to Elena. It’s a family matter now. As Luigi is the wronged party, only he can decide.
Luigi looks at me. “Sav?”
At the fact that his father asked for my opinion and not for his, Giorgio grits his teeth.
“It’ll be a mistake,” I say, clenching my jaw.
“Fifty grand every quarter.” Raphael grins. “Are you going to say no to two hundred grand per year? Imagine two hundred times all the clubs you own. That quickly amounts to millions.”