Chapter Six #5
“How do you know it was tiny? Did you fuck him?” Fly asks about grabby guy from the stairs, accepting a fruity gummy from me. Carlo does too when I stretch my arm holding the pack toward him. He’s standing with Santo near the table.
Maybe I did fuck that guy. Can’t remember. I shake my head after thanking the waitress who’s pouring champagne into my glass.
“But compared to Luca’s, they’d all be tiny. I’m telling you, he has a weapon of mass destruction in his pants.”
“Art, sometimes you got a mouth like a badger’s ass,” Fly whispers in my ear.
“Stinky?”
“Filthy!” he states, savoring his glass. I laugh. Fair enough.
I raise mine toward Carlo to thank him for the help. It’s the first time a soldier has helped me out. My father’s men sneer or ignore me most of the time.
“Oh, my dear lord, is that River?” Fly sounds really surprised.
“Your brother?” I follow the direction he’s looking and see an Asian guy with green locks, wearing a light blue suit, sitting a few tables away from us near a mountain of a man with reddish-blond hair tied in a bun and eyes so similar to Fly’s.
He has an old burn scar covering half of his face; Fly told me River almost died in a fire when he was a kid.
“He’s with Akira, his husband.” He tilts his head toward the colorful dude.
“Are you sure that’s your bro? Fuck, he’s hot!” I almost whistle, but really, he’s definitely my type. Big, rough and dangerous looking. Fly only ever showed me a pic of when they were kids. The skinny boy grew into a hunk of meat. Damn.
Fly slaps my arm, breaking his drop-dead gorgeous brother’s spell.
My gaze falls to the dance floor, and my blood runs cold when I see Mario there.
I blink, and he’s gone. My heart is pounding inside my chest, air stuck in my lungs as my eyes flicker all around the room.
Where is he? Is he really here? No. He’s in Boston.
It’s just a fabrication of my anxious mind.
Yes. I tighten my arm around a sleepy Nacho on my lap.
“Oh, no! What is Seb doing with them?”
Fly’s hissing whisper makes me turn toward his brother’s table again.
Sebastiano “Ice” Leone—here? A subtle chill runs down my body—no pun intended. What is it tonight? I finally managed to go out, and everybody decides to come to my club? Can’t be a coincidence.
I mostly read about the Leone boss online, about his business genius, and King Midas investments.
It has been years since I’ve actually seen him face-to-face.
He’s got more white strands in his black wavy hair—not one is out of place.
It’s not his designer suit that gives him a sophisticated air; it seems to come from within him spreading out in waves, the power, the entitlement.
A dangerous predatory vibe that shows me why he’s the big boss.
The bodyguards around him heavily substantiate that.
His eyes abruptly find mine. The nickname “Ice” makes perfect sense.
The chill I felt before is more like a polar vortex now.
Red flags are waving everywhere. There’s so much emptiness in his gaze, a beeping warning resounds inside my head.
I feel like something is stuck in my throat; his hair-raising presence is eerily daunting.
This is a dangerous man, my father’s a damn fool to go against him.
I remember reading somewhere that successful criminal bosses share a similar profile—callous, vicious, cruel, but also highly methodical and psychologically astute.
Jack Enzino is a violent, greedy, heartless man.
He looks like one of those mobsters from the movies—round belly, gelled hair, and strong cologne—and just like most of them, he is a treacherous, unstable piece of shit.
Still, compared to Don Sebastiano, my father looks like a small fish desperately trying to stay afloat in a sea of barracudas.
I scratch my neck, feeling uneasy. My mind keeps screaming: abort mission, abort mission! Meanwhile, Luca’s name oddly pops into my head as I try to find a way out. Like he’s my fucking savior. Preposterous!
“Fuck!” I hear Carlo saying as Don Sebastiano orders him to join him with a simple wave of his fingers.
Fly grips my arm to catch my attention. “Go!”
“What?”
“If Seb is here, Marco and Luca will soon know we are here, too.”
He takes Nacho and places him on his legs.
“Find your hookup fast. I’ll distract them.”
Right. I almost forgot my reason to come here. He nods encouragingly at me. He really is my ride-or-die buddy. He calls Santo over to him and makes him bend down with the excuse of talking to him. That’s my out.
I quickly make my way to the stairs and through the dance floor without anyone stopping me.
I’m looking around, searching for someone decent enough when I see a pair of broad shoulders I know so well I could draw from memory—if I wasn’t shit at drawing.
Green, furious eyes find mine, and the anxiety infesting my chest suddenly turns into fluttery excitement.
I glance at the staff only sign on the door on my left, and after half a moment of indecision, I decide to dare.