Three
Maxim
Carlo’s sitting behind his desk, intently studying photos on his iPad.
He’s wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a V-neck T-shirt that reveals part of the armor tattoo running down to his elbow.
His shoulder muscles and thick biceps look stronger and more defined than ever, making me wonder how the hell he stays in shape with all the big and small jobs piling up as the capo of a criminal empire, his legit business ventures, two devil-spawn kids, and a firecracker wife like Emily who wants sex around the clock.
“This plot’s perfect for our construction deal, Maxim,” he says without looking up from the iPad. Then he sets it down and smirks. “Can’t believe Rosa actually helped you win the bid. Especially after you had her son fucked up the ass by some chick.”
Carlo leans back in his chair, one brow arched, smirk deepening. “Yeah. Makes sense.”
“Albergini’s son’s a fucking nobody. Far as I know, he hightailed it to the U.S. that same year and never came back. But the other one... looks like he wants to follow in Daddy’s footsteps and get into politics.”
His voice drawls out. “Amen to that. With the dirt we’ve got on him, the day he makes a name for himself, we’ll ride his ass all the way to wherever the hell we want.”
Maybe we’ve got different parents, but sometimes it feels like Carlo and I grew in the same damn womb.
He gets up from behind the desk and heads toward the door. “Come on. The kids have probably driven Matias up the wall by now.”
I set my glass down and rise to my feet. As we walk down the hallway, I ask, “When’s that nanny of theirs going to be back on her feet? If those hyperactive little brats stay home a few more days, they’ll drive every soldier we’ve got fucking insane.”
Carlo’s sons, Gabriel and Luca, are four and two, respectively.
Since Emily insisted on keeping her job as manager of one of the Bruni hotels, Carlo finally gave in last year and agreed to hire a nanny for his precious offspring, but not without a set of seriously bizarre conditions.
Because Emily spends most of her day at the hotel, the nanny had to live there too, full-time.
And she wasn’t allowed to leave the building under any circumstances.
Carlo, paranoid that the nanny might conspire with one of our enemies and plot something against his family, basically turned her into a prisoner.
Of course, not before digging into her background, checking seven generations to make sure she was exactly who she claimed to be: a 25-year-old single mom with a two-year-old daughter, no family, and a squeaky-clean past.
Now, after a full year, this is the first time she’s stepped outside the hotel and only because she had to have surgery.
“She could’ve been discharged the same day,” he answers, “but she’s got no one to take care of her, so they’re keeping her in the hospital for recovery.”
As we round the corner of the hallway, Carlo stops dead. His furrowed brows and tensed frame make my hand instinctively reach for the gun tucked at my lower back, my stance shifting into defense mode.
“What is it?” I ask.
He draws his piece from the holster under his arm and whispers, “Too quiet. No way the kids are this silent.”
I’m with him on that. Gabriel and Luca’s names are practically synonymous with noise pollution.
We move toward the playroom door with long, silent strides.
It’s half-open. Matias’s crouched behind the giant inflatable pool filled with colorful plastic balls, lying in wait.
His back’s to us, but one look at his hands tells me he’s armed.
The moment he springs up, ready to fire, I flick the safety off my gun and move to charge in, but Carlo blocks me with his body. Before I can even ask what’s going on, I hear the high-pitched shrieks of Luca and Gabriel, mixed with the frantic yapping of their dog.
Matias, Luca, and Gabriel are tearing around the playroom, soaking each other with water guns, while the tiny white dog zips between them in a frenzy, barking, tail spinning like a helicopter.
I’ve seen plenty of wild shit in my line of work, but this might be the weirdest one yet. A six-foot-three mafioso, jacked with bulging muscles and covered in tattoos, laughing and playing water games with two little devils.
Carlo exhales and slides his gun back into the holster.
We step into the absurdly luxurious playroom built for his mini-devils. Matias freezes the moment he sees us, snapping to attention, waiting for Carlo’s orders. The kids, of course, seize the opportunity and drench him all over again. He’s so tall, the water barely even hits his face.
I flash him a smirk. “Looks like you’re having a blast.”
He just smiles and shakes his head.
Now that the two little tornados notice us, they abandon their giant human toy and charge at us with gleeful shrieks.
Before they can get close enough to ruin my clothes with their water guns, I let out a growl and lunge at them.
Their mouths hang open in mock terror at the sight of my bared teeth, and they veer off toward their dad.
But I scoop both of them up in the air, ignoring their squeals, spin them around a few times, and toss them into the inflatable pool full of colorful plastic balls.
Carlo, with his usual stone-cold face, dismisses Matias with a nod. Then he walks over to the pool and ruffles the boys’ soaked hair, his voice softer. “You need to change. If Mom comes in and sees you like this, I’ll be paying for it later.”
“Like you don’t beg for it,” I mutter under my breath.
Gabriel bounces up and down in the sea of balls, grinning. “Just a little more! Please, just a little more!”
Carlo lets out a puff of air and turns to me. “All boys are basically little gremlins. They just wanna play all damn day.”
“You don’t have girls,” I say. “Maybe they’d be pure noise pollution too.”
He nods toward the small playhouse in the corner of the room and says, “See for yourself.”
I turn my head and spot ten tiny fingers gripping the edge of the playhouse window. Between them, a puff of orange and two huge, black eyes.
I narrow my gaze, lean in a little, and take a closer look. Yup. That orange puff is a little girl, staring at us with wide, curious eyes. The second she catches me staring back, she ducks and disappears behind the window frame.
I glance over at Carlo. “Who’s the carrot?”
“The nanny’s kid. No one to watch her while the mom’s recovering. She’ll be staying here for a few days.”
I take a few steps closer and peek inside the playhouse. The little girl’s wearing an orange pinafore dress with red hearts, over a white long-sleeved shirt and matching tights. Even her shoes are orange. A full-on carrot.
She’s clutching a rag doll with yellow yarn hair and sneaking glances at me from behind it.
I study her fiery curls again and glance at Carlo. “Her parents aren’t Italian, are they? That red’s natural.”
Carlo grabs Luca’s legs, currently sticking out upside down from the ball pit, and straightens him. “She’s got a bit of Irish from her mother’s side.”
My grin widens, and I straighten my back. “So her mom’s a natural redhead too?”
He gives me a warning look. “Don’t even think about it, Maxim. We had a deal. Stay away from Emily’s staff.”
I shrug. “It’s not like they’re anything special. Your lovely wife banned me from her hotel anyway.”
“Yeah, because you banged half her female employees.”
“A few harmless quickies in a hotel room, who’s it hurting?”
He snorts. “It hurts when the entire staff turns on each other like rabid dogs over your dick.”
I puff out my chest, grinning with pride. “What can I say? I can’t control my charm.”
He flicks his eyes to my crotch and throws a jab. “Yeah, and you can’t control your zipper either. That’s why we have to keep your dick on a leash.”
Before I can fire back, Emily walks into the room.
The little dog, who’d been lounging in a corner, lets out a few lazy yaps at her arrival before curling right back up. The boys, on the other hand, explode with excitement and start bouncing up and down at the sight of her.
Carlo turns to the two tiny troublemakers with a commanding tone. “Time to dry off. Come on out.”
Even toddlers know that tone means the fun’s over. So, without a peep of protest, they let Carlo lift them out of the ball pit. Then he turns and, as usual, greets his wife with a kiss.
But Emily’s not her usual self. She’s pale and distracted. Carlo picks up on it right away. “You okay, baby?”
“I’m fine. We need to talk,” she says quietly after glancing at me.
My good mood dies instantly. Sounds serious. Carlo gently strokes her arm. “What’s going on?”
Emily gestures toward the boys, her voice soft and low. “Can you change their clothes first, please?”
I step forward. “Is something wrong?” I ask. “Did you notice a threat? Should I alert the men?”
She shakes her head. “No, not at all. It’s something between me and Carlo.”
Carlo studies her closely and doesn’t push further. Emily glances around the room. “Where’s Aurora?”
So, the little carrot’s name is Aurora.
I jerk my thumb toward the playhouse. “She’s holed up in there.”
Carlo heads to the wardrobe, and Emily walks over to the playhouse, calling softly for the carrot. The girl emerges, still clutching her doll, and without a fuss, walks right into Emily’s outstretched arms. Emily lifts her up, cradling her with gentle care. “Did you have fun today, sweetie?”
The girl sneaks another glance at me before burying her face in Emily’s chest.
“Is she mute?” I ask Emily.
She shoots me a glare. “She’s shy. Especially around men.”
I slip my hands into my pockets and tease, “No surprise there. You’ve had her mom locked up in that hotel for a year. No wonder the poor kid barely knows what a man is. If you lifted my hotel ban, I could help them out.”
I brace for a fiery comeback, but instead, she turns her attention back to the carrot, her voice soft again. “I visited your Mama today, sweetie. She misses you so much. Told me to give you a big hug and say she loves you very much.”