Chapter 7
DANTE
“Why are you smiling like a fucking psycho?” Luca asks as he side-eyes me from the passenger seat.
I lift a shoulder as I reply, “I’m excited for business, that’s all.”
“Hmmm.” Luca doesn’t bother to delve further into my antics.
“Want to explain to me where we’re going?” I ask.
He’s given me an address and told me he’s conducting business, and I’m to remain by his side. In the rearview mirror, I spot the two hounds who trail us on their motorcycles. I’m confident in my skills in protecting Luca; however, having two of the hounds on standby is never a bad idea.
Luca readjusts the cuff of his sleeve. “I have reason to believe one of my business associates isn’t so faithful, and as you’re aware, there’s still a leak.
We had issues some time ago with the Russian Bratva getting cocky and encroaching on my turf here in Manhattan.
Although it was dealt with, I’m certain a few rats remain, and I want them snuffed out entirely. ”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard of the Bratva interference, both in New York and Italy.
I wonder if Luca’s personal connection with Dmitri Volkov was the reason why they grew so bold, or if they’re just truly idiotic enough to try to instigate a war with the Italian mafia.
It’ll be messy and brutal, but no doubt Luca Armani will win.
They have no power in these areas, but I imagine Luca wants the threat erased before it can grow into an issue, especially right before Ara gives birth.
“Does this have to do with the incident involving Dmitri Volkov killing The Lion?” I ask, although I’m almost certain of the answer.
“Yes,” he replies. And it makes sense as to why he wants to weed out any others who might follow in The Lion's footsteps.
“Dmitri Volkov was the legitimate son of The Lion, who was a high-ranking member of the Russian Bratva. Dmitri had long been cast out by his father, and he swore allegiance to us, had a bloody fight to the death, and came out on top.”
Much like Luca, Dmitri lives here in Manhattan and is part of the upper crust of society. I wonder if everyone saw the real version of those people, if they’d so willingly try to befriend the dangerous billionaires.
“The Bratva don’t have power or influence in Manhattan, but it doesn’t mean there aren’t a few remaining roaches,” Luca says with absolute disdain.
I’m certain Luca’s been moving pieces from the moment he decided to assist Dmitri Volkov in the shadows. After all, he’s not known to be merciful; he only ever does things if something is to be gained from them.
I glance at my boss, always impressed by his methodical nature.
“Is this also connected with the last job you had me do in Italy?”
“Yes,” Luca says.
I don’t ask any more questions, because I’m almost certain I know where Luca’s mind is leading. Kick the hornets' nest to get a reaction, draw them out, and set fire to the whole problem.
He’s used me as bait to draw the attention of those remaining who might fight in the name of The Lion.
I try not to smirk, giddy for what trouble it might bring.
"Do this job for me, and I’ll give you your brother's job." That was the offer Luca made me when he called months ago. "Or you have the option to be freed of your service to the Armani family to complete your residency and live a normal life."
Normal. The word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
I’m certain Luca intentionally used my strained relationship with Lorenzo to motivate me, and I’m not even upset, the manipulation impressed me. It’s the easiest way to motivate an individual.
“I’ll only ask a few questions,” Luca says, as if bored. “If I don’t like the answers, I want you to cut him open and then stitch him back up, time and time again, until he gives me the right answer."
I grin, confident in my recent career change.
I really like it here.
When I open the apartment door at four in the morning, I’m greeted by Borris wagging his short little tail.
I pick him up, freezing when I see Romi lying on the floor, until I see her chest rise and fall.
She’s high, staring up at the ceiling. I follow her gaze, wondering if I’m missing anything particularly exciting.
No, just her being a beautiful mess. Her black hair sprawled beneath her, wearing tiny fuck-me shorts and a shirt that stops at her midriff.
“Is there any particular reason you’re on the floor tonight?” I question.
Her head slowly rolls so she can see me, and the black eyeliner that usually turns into wings at the edges of her eyes is smeared. I wonder if she’s been crying.
“Is there any particular reason why you have blood on you again?” she asks back.
I look down at myself, noticing the blood splattered on my collar. Fuck, I was messy again. Despite being completely blazed, she’s still ridiculously perceptive.
Neither of us answers the other.
Her head rolls back to stare at nothing once again.
Borris licks at my chin, and I walk over to the kitchen to put my helmet on the counter.
There are mugs and cups stacked in the sink, and more than a few empty beer bottles in the trash. Another bender today. She’s a soldier in her determination for self-destruction.
I open the top drawer and find the dog treats. “Don’t tell your mother,” I whisper as I hand Borris a treat and let him run away with it triumphantly. I don’t like many things in this world, but this dog I like.
“I heard that.” Romi groans, rolling onto her stomach to watch me as I busily find something to feed her.
I doubt she’s eaten today. And it’s because she’s caught my interest that I have to at least make sure she’s fed.
I can’t use her against my brother if she’s not eating and barely surviving.
I never thought taking this opportunity would turn me into a domesticated version of myself I’ve never known.
Yet, strangely, I find it rather refreshing instead of irritating.
“I’m assuming the conversation didn’t go well with your mother, then?” I ask, curious if something triggered her or if I can expect to find her on the floor like this often.
“As fine as it always is. I certainly wouldn’t have had to answer unnecessary questions if you didn’t walk out of your room with your dick swinging.”
“Please, my dick wasn’t swinging. It always wakes up proud and tall.”
Her gaze narrows as I go about slathering two pieces of bread with a hazelnut spread and then put them together. Once I’m done, I sit beside her and offer her the sandwich. She looks between the sandwich and me.
“I don’t need to poison you, sweetheart. You’re already doing a perfect job of that yourself,” I say pointedly as I take a bite of the sandwich and then hand it to her.
“Stay out of my business,” she grumbles. However, she accepts the sandwich and looks at it as if it were some strange object. “I didn’t even know we had bread.”
“You didn’t. If you actually looked for something other than beer and dog food, you would’ve noticed by now that I’ve filled the fridge and cupboards with human food.”
She picks at the crust, peeling it off and placing it on my knee. The little shit. “Sounding a bit judgy there, doc.”
We both have our secrets, and her message is loud and clear. I still don’t know exactly what I’m going to do with Romi or how I’ll use our association to irritate my brother, but the more time I spend with her, the more curious I become.
“I was going to go out tonight, but then I couldn’t be bothered,” she says nonchalantly.
“More like couldn’t get off the floor.”
“Fuck off,” she bites as she sits up. That’s the part I like about her most—that scathing tongue. She’s the only woman I’ve met who's ever had the balls to speak to me like that, and I find it amusing. “Everyone needs to stop riding my ass all the time. You don’t even fucking know me.”
“I may not know you, but I know a beautiful disaster when I see one.”
She’s pissed. I can tell by the way her gaze narrows, and she defiantly takes a bite of the sandwich. As she slowly chews, her hand raises to the collar of my shirt, and her fingers rub over the blood smear, as if a subtle reminder, yet again, that neither of us should get too close to the truth.
My gaze meets hers, and there’s that sensual little beast that comes to the forefront, the version of her that uses and abuses people's bodies to make her forget whatever it is she’s running from.
My cock twitches with anticipation, the tension wrapping around us. The thoughts of the many ways I could fuck her on this carpet.
“I don’t trust you for shit,” she says as she throws a leg over my hips to straddle me. I don't protest the move. Her body so naturally fits with mine, and I almost purr as her hand sifts through my hair, thoughtfully, as she bites down on the sandwich again.
“Something tells me you don’t even trust yourself, sweetheart.”
I enjoy the momentary shock on her face. I’ll always be the person who says what people aren’t willing to face because I enjoy provoking their most damning and ugly version.
She leans back slightly, dropping the remaining sandwich onto my lap.
“You get more unattractive by the day,” she says as she stands, and I feel the slice to the chemistry that wrapped around us only moments ago.
I can’t help but chuckle at how quickly this woman is to cut down any person who hits too close to home.
She slowly walks to her bedroom, picking up Borris with the remnants of his treat, and looks over her shoulder as she says, “I told you if you give him one treat, you’ll become a lifetime sucker. ”
“Maybe I’m trying too hard for someone in this apartment to actually like me,” I suggest as I take a bite of the half-eaten sandwich.
She gives me a bored look as she says, “You’re late on rent. Don’t make me a shitty landlord.”
“You don’t need my help in that regard, sweetheart.”
She kicks her bedroom door shut behind her, and I readjust my cock as I stand. I’m tempted to follow her, to give in to the carnal pleasure we can provide for one another. Especially after she left me high and dry the last time. But I play into this game, enjoying its song and dance.
I pull out my wallet and throw a stack of hundreds down on the kitchen counter.
It’s far more than the actual rent due, but money is nothing to me. Which reminds me how peculiar it is for a woman such as herself, who grew up in a wealthy household, to live in an apartment like this.
But it only heightens my curiosity. And besides, I know putting more money down is going to piss her off, and hopefully draw more of her attention and interest in my direction—even if it’s the bad kind.