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)
Antonio flees to the upstairs office as soon as Luigi leaves. Giorgio holds me back with a hand on my arm when I take my jacket.
He looks around before saying in a lowered voice, “We need to talk.”
I follow him into the elevator and get out on the club level. The cleaners are mopping the floors. The barman is stocking up for tonight, loading the shelves and the fridges with bottles of alcohol.
Giorgio serves two glasses of the best brandy and hands me one. We take our drinks to the VIP section where it’s quiet. He takes a sip of his drink and leans his arms on the rail, looking at the activity downstairs. There are cameras but no microphones. It gets too loud here to discern conversations when the music is pumping. The microphones are reserved for the private rooms. For anyone looking at the cameras, it would seem as if we’re enjoying an after-lunch drink, but I don’t know Giorgio from yesterday. Whatever he’s got to say is serious.
He points at the cleaner who sweeps up broken glass from the dance floor. “We should charge a fucking damage fee for every glass of liquor we sell. Do you know how much money we lost this year in breakage?”
“Ten thousand,” I say, leaning on the balustrade next to him.
He cuts me a look. “My father told me to put out a hit on Anya.”
Every muscle in my body goes taut. Killing rage floods my veins. Even as thick, angry black fog drowns out the edges of my vision, I hold the glass in a steady grip. Take a sip. Let the alcohol burn down my throat and settle with cold fury in my stomach.
My voice is level, my tone calm. “Did you?”
“No,” he says, letting his gaze play over my face.
I’m a good poker player. I don’t give him an emotion. Not a damn thing. “Why not?”
“I agree with you.” He faces forward and swallows another mouthful of brandy. “You need her. Things can still go wrong for us.”
He’s not only worried about being implicated in a murder. He’s scared to risk my loyalty. He knows what will happen if I don’t protect him. It’s not difficult to figure that one out. Giorgio on his own won’t last a day. He can’t take over from his father without me. He needs someone to run the show while he pretends to be in charge. Just like Luigi does. He needs a right-hand man he can trust more than he needs his dick.
“So what now?” I ask with a casual smile that hides the murderous rage mounting inside me.
“I’ll say I can’t find the right man for the price.” He twirls his glass, sloshing the liquor. “I’ll say I’m looking for someone. Win us time.” He shrugs. “Give it a few weeks. My father will forget about it.”
Only, Luigi won’t. Luigi never forgets. I know what Giorgio is doing. He believes he did his duty by warning me and that he proved his alliance by taking my side. When the push comes to shove and Luigi gets someone to do the job himself, Giorgio will wash his hands of the affair. If he thinks that will save him, he’s got another think coming. If Luigi lays a hand on Anya, I’ll skin him alive, and then I’ll go after every member of his family. Perhaps it’s time to tell him that to his face.
“I don’t like this business with Raphael,” Giorgio says.
And there’s the real reason why he doesn’t want to piss me off. Luigi and Raphael are getting thick with one another. Giorgio is afraid he’ll lose his territory. He needs me to secure the title, the wealth, and the respect that goes with that position. Selfish reasons, as always. I chuckle to myself as I take another swig from my drink. That’s who we are. That’s what it boils down to. Despite honor, family ties, and sacred blood, we’re all protecting our own agendas.
Opening his fingers, he lets the glass go. It drops straight down and crashes on the dance floor with a sharp tinkling of crystal an inch from the cleaner’s head. The guy whips around. He looks from the shards to the balcony.
Giorgio grins.
The man pales.
Not taking his eyes off the man, Giorgio says, “I want you to kill Raphael.”
I study him carefully, noting the hatred that rides on his words. “Only Luigi can give that order.”
He spins around and faces forward. “No one needs to know who did it.”
“Shoot a man without claiming responsibility?” I down what’s left of my drink. “That’ll make me a traitor and a coward. I’m neither.”
Giorgio smiles, turning cold, hard eyes on me. “Fine. I’ll just give you the order when I’m in charge then.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and says as he saunters away, “It shouldn’t take long. My father has one foot in the grave already.”