Chapter Seventeen Callum
The sound of my phone ringing on the desk next to me pulls my attention away from my computer. Seeing the name on the device, I lean back in my chair to answer it.
“Father,” I greet him simply.
“You answer the phone like a funeral director. Always so serious.”
“What can I do for you?” The group chat that includes my parents and my brother has been awfully quiet lately. Too quiet—like a toddler in another room with a pair of scissors.
“Why do you assume I need something? Can’t a man call his son just to talk?”
“So you don’t want something from me, what a relief,” I deadpan, not buying it for a second.
“Alright fine, the Grassoses hosting Lucciano’s engagement party in the Hamptons, and everyone expects to see you there.” I’d heard the news that Rafael finally selected a wife for Lucciano—and she’s the daughter of one of the Grassos biggest rivals, Frederico Manici.
I’ve known Frederico, the Don of Chicago, since I was a teenager.
Of course, back then he was enemy number one to the Grassos family here in New York.
And with my loyalties tied tightly to the Family, he was my enemy too.
It took several attempts over a few years for us to be able to work together. Now I’m indispensable.
“Why is it assumed that I’ll be in attendance?” I’d received the invitation, but I wasn’t planning on going. I have business here in the city, and the last thing I need to deal with right now is my family and syndicate matters.
“You might have left the Family business, but you’re still my family.
You’ll always be a Russo, and Russos show up.
” Despite his best efforts, I’m leaning towards a refusal when my father adds something that tips the scales in his favor.
“Your mama has made it very clear she wants to see you there.”
I let out a heavy sigh, and he knows he’s won. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Ahhh that’s what I wanted to hear! Don Rafael bought out the Walmont for the occasion; he’s reserved you a suite.” I can hear the satisfied grin in his voice.
“Send me the details,” I relent, leaning forward in my chair and running a hand over my face.
“Already sent. Your mama will be thrilled, we’ll see you soon.” Ending the call, I check for his message and confirm the dates and time for my schedule.
I can see why they chose the Walmont; it’s the best five-star luxury hotel in the Hamptons—with a three Michelin star restaurant, known for its panoramic ocean views and sprawling grounds. Not to mention it’s far outside of the Grassos family’s territory in the city. Perfect neutral ground.
The Grassos and Manici families called a cease-fire three months ago so they could focus on the threat of the Bratva, but a tenuous truce is only as stable as the most volatile member. So, a wedding is the best way to assure the alliance holds strong on both sides.
Stepping out of my office, I pause to quietly observe the scene laid out in the living room. Lexie is sitting on the floor, a three-course meal set up on the coffee table, a reality show playing on the tv.
Her meal consists of a plate with three types of bruschetta, sauteed asparagus, and a plate of curly fries.
A can of Mountain Dew sits next to a glass of what I’m assuming is her favorite red wine.
There’s something oddly sweet about the sight of her like this, a total mix of elegant and casual.
Her eyes stay on the screen as she takes a sip of wine, puts the glass back down, then leans forward to grab her phone from the floor a few feet away when it chimes with a notification.
I knew kissing her would only make things worse for me, and I was right. I’ve gotten a taste, and now I need all of her. A taste wasn’t nearly enough—I need to consume her, devour every part of her.
Lexie’s laugh pulls my focus. But she’s not laughing at the show playing on the screen, she’s laughing at something on her phone.
Another chime sounds and she smiles before tapping away.
She’s texting someone. Who is making her smile like that?
A man? The thought churns dark in my stomach and my eyes narrow on her.
“The dining room table is behind you.” Her bright eyes pull away from the small screen in her hand to glance at the formal dining room less than twenty feet behind her, before lowering back to her phone. My jaw tightens; she didn’t even look at me.
Who the fuck is stealing her attention? My fists clench with the urge to rip the device right out of her fingers and force her to focus on me.
“I know. I like the floor,” she says passively, tapping on the screen. Another laugh at her phone has me turning on my heel to stalk back into my office. The door closes soundly behind me, and I sit behind my computer.
I know exactly what’s possessing me to dig into Lexie’s phone records, and I don’t fight it. I need to know who’s making her blush and giggle like a schoolgirl. I’ll find the man who thinks he can have what’s mine. By the end of the night, I’ll know everything about the fucker.
There’s no hiding from me.