Chapter 8
Sebastian
Swirling the pen in my hand, I pay no attention to the meeting going on around me.
I had expected her to give in by now, and I know from the men I have watching her that she hasn’t run yet.
By the time she left my office and went back home, I’d already put having her boyfriend fired in motion, regardless of what she chooses.
It should persuade her to save his life.
Besides a brief text saying fuck you, it’s been silent on her end. The days have stretched and the urge to track her down, throw her over my shoulder, and bring her home grows. But she has to come on her own if I have any chance of reconciliation.
It doesn’t help that I only have a few more months here before I need to return to the UK.
I was never meant to stay stateside after college.
I’ve only been lingering in hopes of catching Gianna before settling down at home.
I’d planned to convince her by the time we graduated to live with me in London, but that plan blew up and I couldn’t let go.
Something inside me had latched onto Gianna that I couldn’t sever, and if I’m honest with myself I still don’t want to.
She’s the first person outside of my family that took up space in my mind, and I couldn’t look away from her.
“And Manhattan?” One of the board investor’s questions interrupts my thoughts.
I frown, looking over at Nico who is watching me with concealed concern. “What about Manhattan?” I reply.
“If you’re returning to London, and Nico is staying in Chicago, who will man the Manhattan office?” the insolent, pudgy man asks.
My eyes narrow. “Chicago has always been headquarters. The New York office is nothing more than a shell. Any of the managers should be capable of running it.”
Nico clears his throat. “We have no plans to expand further in the US if that’s what you’re getting at.”
The board member huffs, pulling at his shirt collar. “And why not?”
Because the Outfit is stronger in Europe you absolute dimwitted twat is on my tongue, but I swallow it down with a fake smile. “Our holdings are stronger in Europe. We plan to expand there.”
“The untapped market here, the potential…”
I zone him out. The worst thing about being a legitimate front funded by the Outfit is that we still have to be careful about borders.
My eyes catch on the two board members who embedded their money deep with Christian’s and our UK holdings.
I can only refuse to expand so much before it looks like I don’t want growth for the company.
Christian may be the head of the Outfit, but he’s a formidable businessman to the public.
He’d ruin their investments before they could blink.
One of the men clears his throat, interrupting the other rambling man. I let out a sigh when that board member starts preaching about being conservative with the company’s earnings, and I let the conversation continue around me while my thoughts stray back to Gianna.
When voices start to rise, my irritation grows and I slam my hand on the table. Silence unfolds, all eyes on me as I grind my teeth.
“Take lunch. Come back in two hours. Be sure to adjust your expectations to my vision,” I say, sitting back in my chair with a glare.
The men scurry out of their chairs without hesitation. Nico walks out with them, assuming correctly that I need a moment alone to clear my head. I move to my office, admiring the view of the city. It’s not as beautiful as Chicago, but it’s not shabby.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I set it on the wooden desk as I rub my face in exhaustion.
Money ruins a lot of things, especially men’s egos, causing them to think they’re more intelligent than they are.
Most of the men who sit around the table barely understand the reports given to them, and they only have their jobs because of the generational wealth that planted them here.
It’s all a game of luck, timing, and the right connections.
Some of the richest men I’ve dealt with are so fucking daft, it’s easier to talk to a brick wall.
A buzzing draws my eyes to the device I’d just set down. The looming fatigue of expectations tightens around my throat. Everything I’ve ever wanted is right within my reach, over a decade of work coming to an end to be enjoyed with leisure.
My phone vibrates again and I watch the call from my father ring, knowing I’ll have to answer him eventually.
I’m not ready for that conversation—I promised him that this would be my last attempt at getting Gianna.
Then I’ll be forced to pick a woman from a family that could benefit us with a company merger.
Nico comes through my door, eyes flashing with anger, and before I can ask, my gaze slides to the man walking in behind him.
“Luca. Sorry if I missed our lunch date, I wasn’t hungry,” I say, masking my surprise.
He sits opposite my desk in one of the chairs, his lips set in a thin line. Nico lingers next to the other one, but I wave him off. Since Luca came alone, it’s courteous to return the gesture. With a nod, he leaves us in my office, closing the door behind him.
“I don’t appreciate being the last to know you’re in my territory,” he says, his eyes cold.
I raise an eyebrow. “Your territory? We all pay the price to use Manhattan.” I shift forward, resting my folded hands on the table. “And we do not bow to the Famiglia.”
Luca’s jaw ticks. “That was before I knew you may be in bed with the Irish.”
“Rian wouldn’t allow me in his bed. Believe me, I tried,” I retort with a saccharine smile.
My fingers itch to grab the gun stored under my desk and shoot the bastard between the eyes.
Since I found out that Luca had nothing to do with Gianna’s disappearance, my hatred for the man has diminished, but some still lingers.
Instead of rising to the bait of my teasing, he glances out the windows of my office.
He looks tired, his face lined with exhaustion.
There’s only a few years between Luca, Rian, and I.
This generation lucked out with the majority of the heirs being of a similar age.
If one counted me as one. Christian heads up the Outfit, but he’s barely a decade older than me and has no children.
My father is second in command, which leaves me looking like an heir apparent to most.
I lean back in my chair, giving the man a small reprieve. “We had a mutual understanding, an exchange of information. Both sides have been fulfilled. I don’t speak for the Outfit, but I don’t think they’d be quick to jump into a war with them.”
Luca turns back to me. “They never are. The Outfit prefers to stay outside of everything.”
I shrug, not caring to take the backhanded insult of being called cowards. “Maybe we’re not the crazy ones you all seem to think we are. Maybe we’re content with what we have.”
“Or maybe you have a larger international presence than us. The US and its cities don’t matter to you. No one is content in this life,” he says with a scowl.
The Famiglia may be strong on the East Coast of the US, but the Cosa Nostra have been cautious to expand past Italy overseas. And while the Outfit recently relinquished Northern Ireland to the Irish, it leaves the rest of Europe to the Outfit.
“I’m not in this life,” I repeat. And I’m technically not, I’ve sworn no oath to them. While I do allow them to silently invest in my company and sometimes offer advice on other ventures, I’m technically an outsider… to their benefit.
He rolls his eyes, and I find it amusing. Such a human-like gesture from a snake. “Yet. You’ll be lured in eventually, James. We all are.”
“Was there a point to this visit or are you running low on friends? Want to test the waters? I have to warn you Nico is the jealous type. Monopolizes all of my time, that one.” I tsk.
“Do you always ramble?” He leans back in the chair, getting comfortable as if to say he’s not leaving any time soon.
The humor drops from my face, a mask I’ve grown to perfect over the years that always has people underestimating me. “I’m sure the Commission would love to hear about how you’re not respecting the treaty of Manhattan. I suggest you hurry up with your threat so I can continue my day.”
Luca may not answer to the Commission directly, but I’ve been taught that at the end of the day there’s only one boss in the Cosa Nostra, and he’s the Don that oversees Sicily. Famiglia has its leeway as the American branch of the Cosa Nostra, but that’s at the mercy of the Don.
Luca stares at me for a moment before turning to glare at a spot on the wall. “I want to discuss the information you gave the Irish.”
The refusal is on my tongue, but curiosity gets the best of me. “Why?”
His jaw tightens before his gaze returns back to me. I almost laugh at the internal battle playing out on his face. “I had hoped to have them as a possible ally.”
The laugh escapes before I can stop it. “Well you fucked all that, didn’t ya?”
“Is it true you provided them with information in exchange for help finding a woman?” he continues, studying me.
I bristle at his cold tone, an underlying threat to it. “You still haven’t told me why it matters.”
Luca’s demeanor changes, the brutal Underboss aura if I’ve ever seen one.
My fingers twitch to grab my gun for a different reason now as my heart rate picks up.
I’ve never been one to immediately jump to violence, preferring to fuck with people in different ways.
But I recognize a killer when I see one.
“Perhaps I’m not an expert on sparrows the way everyone seems to think I am.”
I lean back in my chair, trying to make sense of his words as we stare at each other.
Is he saying that the sparrows he has planted in all of the organizations don’t report to him?
They swore loyalty to the Famiglia, so if they don’t report to Luca, then who?
My mouth opens in slight shock. Does he have a coup going on in his organization?