Chapter 11
11
MICHAEL
I need to be colder towards her. Pretend to not give a shit. Fake it till I make it and all that until it becomes reality. But those whiskey eyes and lush, tempting lips keep invading my thoughts, making it impossible to think straight.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I catch myself glancing back repeatedly to check if she’s following me.
Not because I’m running away. I’m definitely not running .
It’s almost time for my weekly meeting with my brothers, and I hate being late. That’s all. She has no hold on me. None at all. I was just a little fascinated by her, and now that I’ve spent some time with her, I’m over it.
Mostly.
I still need to know what makes her tick.
I shove the thought out of my head as I unlock my office door. It’s none of my business what makes her tick. In three days, we’re going back to Manhattan. I sink into my chair, nodding decisively. Three days is more than enough.
My laptop powers on while I scroll through emails on my tablet. Several messages from Lorenzo catch my attention, and I frown. I’ll need to hop on a call with him after this meeting.
The familiar conference chime sounds just as my screen lights up. Barely made it— exactly why I left Gianna downstairs. I hope she’s eating her meal. My eyes drift to the door as I join, and I have to fight the urge to check on her through the cameras.
“Something interesting behind your screen? Share with the class.” Maximo’s teasing pulls my attention to the meeting.
I raise an unamused brow at him. Ever since he settled into his marital bliss a couple of months ago, he fancies himself a damn comedian, and I’m not in the mood right now.
“I have a lot on my plate, ” I say, making a show of checking my wrist despite not wearing a watch. “So can we cut the comedy routine and get this show on the road?”
“Yes, Michael. We’re all businessmen here, and I believe we all have two or ten things to handle.” Romero, ever the pragmatist, intercedes before Maximo can retort. Then, after a beat, he adds, “Though I understand why you’ve got a fire under your ass. Heard a twenty-three-year-old girl is eluding you.”
Fucker. Classic lawyer move—trying to bait information out of me through taunts. But I know his game.
“You motherfu–”
“Men, that’s enough.” Rafael cuts in before I can cuss Romero out. The asshole grins at me cheekily, and I narrow my eyes at him. But Rafael keeps talking. “The Albanian factions have begun their merging process.”
“I thought we saw this coming,” I say, leaning back, arms crossing.
My brothers and I control three of New York’s five boroughs, with the fourth and fifth divided amongst two other Italian families—who still have to answer to us—and our old rivals, the Albanians and their allies, the Russians.
But a few months ago, the Albanians got greedy, slowly setting up little offshoots in our boroughs, which ramped up tensions. Then Maximo went and kidnapped an Albanian princess, turning us into grudging allies by marrying the chit.
So yeah, it was kind of expected that they’d all move to Queens—Maximo’s territory—to coexist peacefully.
“Yes, but it’s happening faster than anticipated, and it’s messing up the ecosystem.” Maximo sighs. “There’s no way they can all stay in Queens because…”
My eyes slide to my tablet, and before I can stop myself, I pick it up. A few taps and swipes, and I’m in the security system, scanning the live feeds until I find the dining area—where, surprisingly, Gianna is eating her meal with a look of pure satisfaction.
Like the cat that got the canary.
My eyes narrow. What is she plotting now?
“... don’t you think so, Michael?”
“Huh?” My head snaps up.
Four pairs of eyes glare at me from the screen.
“Where the hell are you?” Romero demands.
“Sorry, sorry,” I clear my throat. “Just received an email from Lorenzo. Got distracted.” The lie comes easy, but they don’t buy it. Their skeptical silence says it all, so I throw them a bone—something I actually did read earlier. “He thinks Jack and Damien aren’t the end of our little problem.”
“Who?” Maximo asks with a little frown.
“Jack Lister and Damien Washington. The two thieves who were diluting our drug supply to resell it on the street,” Rafael explains. “What did Lorenzo find?”
I shrug. “We don’t discuss sensitive matters over text.” I have the utmost belief in the security of my devices, but some of my employees know enough of the code used in their manufacturing—and I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them. And Lorenzo’s other news about a potential patent thief has me on edge.
“Fucking hell, who the hell are the crooks then?” Romero scowls. “We need to shut this shit down before other fools think they can mess with us.”
“I’m on top of it,” I assure them, and they nod, trusting me to handle it.
I let out a little breath and drop my tablet. No more distractions. Not from Gianna. Not when each one of my brothers is sharp as hell and will pick up on the smallest slip.
“Like I was saying earlier,” Maximo starts. “I think we should let the Albanians remain spread out in our regions rather than cramming them all into one borough.”
I smirk. “Trying to deny your in-laws entry into your borough?”
Romero chuckle. Maximo doesn’t.
We continue the meeting for another hour, finally concluding that since Brooklyn—Romero’s territory—is closer to Queens, the Albanians can get some space to settle in both cities.
When we’re done, I move to disconnect, but Rafael stops me. “Michael, a word, please.”
Maximo snickers and exits before I can snap at him. Romero exits quietly, but I don’t miss the amusement glistening in his eyes. I half suspect he has already figured out that I have Gianna.
Of my three brothers, Romero probably has the best idea of how my tracking process works. Since we’ve had to collaborate on some of his criminal cases before, he’s well aware of just how quick and efficient my software is.
“What is it, Rafael? We talked last night. When I find her, I’ll let you know.”
There’s something in his gaze—a quiet certainty—that makes me think he might have already put the pieces together too. “I trust you with my life, Michael. You know that, right?”
He definitely knows. Still, I hold his stare, refusing to back down. “Good. I trust you with my life as well.”
A pause. Then, quietly, “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
His screen goes dark.
I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. But I don’t even have time to think about the ramifications of Rafael’s words before my phone pings with an incoming call from Lorenzo.
“Michael, I hope I’m not interrupting your meeting?” he asks the moment I answer.
As my personal assistant—both at my company, HartSphere, and on the shadier side of ruling lower Manhattan—he knows my schedule better than anyone.
“No, we just wrapped up. Talk to me.”
“I just found out about a warehouse where tons of our Ozempic and nicotine lozenges are being rerouted. The Ozempic is dried, mixed with the nicotine, and sold on the black market.”
My spine straightens. “Your source?”
“Dead.”
Fucking hell. “Did you kill him?”
“Nope. I found him and a few others selling their drugs on 125th Street. The others ran, but I caught him. He got a bullet to the head mid-interrogation, right there on the streets.”
“Fuck, this is all more organized than we thought. I’m going to do some follow-ups here. Send me as many details as you have.”
“Of course. And about the patent thief—I have a name.”
“Good. Get him and throw him in the basement. I’ll deal with him when I’m back in the city.”
I end the call and lean back, rolling my stiff neck. There’s a mountain of shit waiting for me in Manhattan, things that really shouldn’t be left for another day. But the thought of taking Gianna back to the city…
I hate it.
I sigh. I need to get a hold of myself. What the hell has she done to me?
Three more days , I promise myself. Just three more days with her, and I’ll take her back to the city.
I get to my feet, running a palm over my scalp as I make my way towards the door. I’m fucking starving. Hopefully, she’s still in the dining room.
My heart stirs at the thought of those fiery eyes flashing at me, and I shove that shit down.
But the second I open the door, I freeze.
Chest to hair, I nearly collide with the very thing that’s been unraveling me from the inside out.
She jumps back, a quick breath hitching, but recovers fast. Her chin tilts up—and just like that, those fiery eyes I was just trying to ignore burn right into mine. But…
My brain goes blank, mouth slackening as I stare at her. I’ve already accepted that she’s gorgeous—hell, the secret pictures I have stashed are more than enough evidence—but fuck me , right fucking now, she looks like a slice of heaven come down to tempt me.
She’s done something to her face. Her lids shimmer, making her whiskey eyes glow like firelight dancing on water. Her lips—full, glossy—look almost sinful.
“ Gianna .”
Her name is barely a breath as I step closer, fingers reaching, brushing over the silky strands framing her beautiful face.
Soft. Like liquid slipping through my fingers. Her long lashes flutter, and that tiny movement ruins me.
Before I can even process it, I’m backing her up. Step by step, until she’s pinned against the wall, my body caging hers in. My head drops heavily towards her, my nose dragging through her hair, down to the delicate skin of her face.
She smells— Jesus Christ . I don’t even have words for it.
I groan, dipping lower, settling into the crook of her neck. My mouth waters, my head swims like I’ve downed the strongest whiskey in the world, and I don’t want to sober up. No woman has ever affected me like this before.
Then my tongue flicks out—just a taste, just a single swipe over the soft hollow of her throat where her pulse is pounding frantically. It’s heaven. With a sharp, underlying bite of something hotter, something that burns. She jerks, a breathy sound spilling from her lips, and the last of my rationality shatters, giving way to the primitive desire of my hardening cock.
I sink my teeth into her flesh and she moans, arching her neck for me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My mouth drags up her neck, messy, desperate. No finesse. Just the raw, clawing urge to consume her whole.
Her lips part before I even reach them, like she’s been waiting for me, and when I finally, finally crash into her?—
It’s over.
I dive in.
And I drown.