Chapter Four #3
Better. “Look everywhere for anything related to the Enzinos. And when I say everywhere, I mean everywhere.” I grunt before making my way to the showy bedroom.
It has a canopy bed with white and silver curtains, a walk-in closet, a large armchair, and on the opposite wall a fireplace.
Jack Enzino must have bought him this luxurious place, since the brat doesn’t have a job.
A frosty wall of ice wraps around me, because I’m reminded once again that while my family was rotting underground and I was forced into a shitty group home, the Enzinos were living la bella vita.
If I despise Arturo Enzino with every fiber of my being, then I hate his father and brother infinitely more—with the power of a thousand suns.
I loathe them in ways I couldn’t even begin to explain.
And I got the distinct impression that the brat does too.
Hate them with a hint of fear. His reaction, that visceral recoil, the boiling anger noticeable only to an expert eye, reveals the presence of a truth untold. Could I exploit it?
I look at the bed, which is unmade, and the wrappers of candy and chocolate bars covering the nightstand.
There are no pictures framed, no photo albums, even in the living room.
I notice pieces of a broken vase on the floor, near the window.
He didn’t even clean that? Odd. I move inside the wide walk-in closet.
All the drawers are open, clothes and accessories hanging out and on the floor.
I would have thought Enzino left it like this if it wasn’t for the torn lingerie—he loves it too much to ruin it—and the hole in one of the closet doors—like someone hit it in rage.
There’s a little blood around the punch hole, but Enzino’s hands were both uninjured when I kidnapped him, also he’s not strong enough to do this much damage.
Plus, he never lets anyone inside his apartment.
So, unless he used a metal fist and then added the blood, someone else was here. Fuck!
I call Seb’s cell.
“Luca,” he answers.
“I think someone entered Arturo Enzino’s apartment after I took him.”
“Any idea who?”
“No. The door wasn’t forced, and the alarm was on, which hints at someone who knew the code. Did Coretti find out about his future son-in-law’s disappearance?”
“The rumor of Arturo having cold feet has been circulating. But since the wedding date is in three weeks, Coretti has all the time to check on that. He called me today, though, and asked for a meeting. Do you think it was one of his men who broke into the apartment?”
“Whoever it was, they vented their anger on a door. A single punch.” I send him a picture.
“Coretti wouldn’t lose his shit like that,” Seb voices what I was already thinking. “Any text or call on Arturo’s phone?”
“Aurora Coretti sent a couple of messages about the wedding. Nothing important.” No texts from his father or brother.
“I plan to send a message to Mario from Arturo’s cell tomorrow night.” I’ve waited long enough.
“Alright. Let me know if he bites. How is the cohabitation going?”
“Thinking about letting Marco have at it for a while,” I tell him.
“Why?”
He knows why, he just likes to double-check other people’s responses.
“My murderous side will gain control over me very soon.”
“I see.” His unemotional, robotic voice rubs me the wrong way right now.
“Do you think Fly will accept that?”
Fucking hell. Why do people keep getting in the middle of my vendetta? I just want to avenge my parents, is it too much to ask?
“I need to go. Keep me posted,” Seb suddenly says before hanging up.
I turn toward the closet, and I start kicking it over and over until I break the frame of one of the drawers, and pieces of wood fall out.
Something metallic-looking catches my eye.
A safe. I clear the way until I see the small keypad on the front.
Not numbers but letters. I try his dog’s name, snacks and food and a bunch of other words.
Nothing. My eyes fall on the nightstand in the bedroom. Could it be…?
What did he say his dildo’s name was? D.E.N.V.E.R.
Click, the thick door opens. Only that brat could choose the name of his vibrator as a combination for his safe.
Inside, there’s only a big white envelope.
I open it. It contains a few things, so I walk back to the bedroom and unload it on the bed.
A passport with Arturo Enzino’s face and a fake name, that same fake name appears on deeds for five different clubs in New York.
Does he own them under a different name?
Why? The only reason could be that he doesn’t want people to know. But again, why?
Red Tape is one of them. The club opened just four months ago and he has been going there a lot.
The same club I kidnapped him from a week ago.
I look at the contract and see a familiar name.
Aurora Coretti is his partner, owning forty percent of the club.
What the fuck is going on? Is he in cahoots with Coretti?
How? What does he want? The Enzino throne? I doubt it. Power? Money?
Enzinos are all the same. Traitors, liars, and scheming bastards. My hand tightens around the papers, making them crinkle. All I want to do is make him bleed on the tip of my blade, while forcing him to tell me every-fucking-thing. But I won’t be able to stop myself if I start, and what about Fly?
Arturo Enzino is playing with me. Why not share some of the fun with him?
When I reach the third floor of the safe house, Jeff is outside on the landing. His eyes widen, and he looks nervously at the apartment door. I don’t ask him anything. I just slide my hand in the back of my jacket to grab my gun and tell him to open the door.
He quickly complies, then moves to the side to let me get a look at the empty sofa.
“Where the fuck is he?” I snarl, looking around the living room.
“In the bathroom,” Jeff replies, swallowing anxiously.
I can hear him singing behind the closed door. Hot fury boils in my gut as I advance toward Jeff.
“Did I tell you to uncuff him?”
“No, Boss. But he needed to pee.”
I take out my knife—not the Enzino killer, that’s reserved for the cunning fucker in the bathroom. I carry extra ones for these kinds of occasions.
“Scusa, capo. He reminds me of my late little brother, and I just…” He lowers his head after he sees the blade and waits.
A soldato who violates the rules or fails to perform has to be disciplined.
Performing demeaning tasks or temporary restrictions are the lightest. But they can also lose their status, even get executed—typically, the latter is caused by severe disobedience or betrayal.
Jeff takes his job seriously and the consequences that come with it.
But he’s too fucking soft-hearted. He needs a permanent reminder.
“Unbutton your shirt and expose your shoulder,” I say with a commanding voice.
He does it quickly, without asking me the reason. I use my knife to carve the L of Leone on his skin.
“A repeated poor performance is seen as a liability and can make you face terminal consequences.” It’s a warning, I hope it will remain just that. That’s why I keep carving until sweat covers his forehead and his lips curl to show his gritted teeth.
“Boss?” Carlo’s voice reaches me as he makes his way inside the apartment to leave the bag with Enzino’s stuff.
His tone remains even, this kind of punishment is quite normal in our family.
“I called the landlord to ask about the building footage. He needs a day or two. The CCTV is connected directly to a security firm. It takes time to get it.”
“I don’t fucking care, tell him I want it by tomorrow or I’ll personally go see him,” I snap. I hate this shitty day.
I turn to Jeff. “Carlo will take your place. Go put something on the wound and go home. Starting tomorrow, you remain in the parking lot.”
“Yes, Boss,” he replies, wincing as he pulls his shirt back on.
I move toward the bathroom without looking at him again.
I’m pissed off at Jeff for disobeying, and at Enzino for exploiting his weakness.
I open the door and find the brat soaking in the tub.
My eyes fall on his body among the bubbles, and I can see pieces of smooth skin, his slender shoulders, and a pink nipple. Is that a tattoo on his pec?
“You can join me. The water is warm.” Again with the flirting.
I look at his face. His cheeks are red, lips parted, and his eyes look hazy. My gaze moves to the water again. His hands are both under, disturbing the tranquility of the water’s surface with a repetitive movement. Is he jerking off?
“Don’t look away,” he breaths out. “Enjoy the show if you prefer that sort of thing. Whatever makes you purr.” He smirks.
My body tenses as my dick decides he’d like that even though I know he’s toying with me. My mind, though, decides to toy back. I tighten my fingers around the bloody knife and let my lips slightly curl on one side.
“Why only watch when I can enjoy?” I whisper darkly, loosening my green tie and lifting the knife as I move toward the bathtub.
His eyes widen with surprise at first, then with fear and horror as they see the bloody blade. His hands both spring out of the water to grab the edge of the tub.
“Whose blood is that?” he asks with a trembling voice.
Ha! Like he actually cares. “It’ll be yours next time you disobey.”
He looks down in that submissive way I like too damn much on him. Winning at this fucked-up game of his feels so good. I sniff. Act or not, my dick is half-hard, and soon I’m going to do something about it. But not with him.
“If you play with fire, you’ll get burned, Enzino. Hai capito ora?”
He doesn’t reply, eyes still avoiding mine and the blade.
“Get out of the bathtub, I have somewhere to go,” I tell him as I move to the sink to wash the knife.