10. Marco
Marco
The Garage is the seediest club in my repertoire.
This hole-in-the-wall has been around for decades and appears out of place squashed between two Upper East Side high-rise apartment buildings.
Motorcycles are parked on the curb, and the bathroom door is crafted from cardboard and zip ties.
When Bianca and I walk inside the following night, I have to step over a puddle on the floor that bubbles ominously as we pass by.
Multi-colored Christmas lights hang over the bar, stretching the length of the space, and anywhere else, the cracked barstools would be considered a safety hazard.
Bianca performs one quick scan of the place, lingers momentarily on a framed AI rendition of Marilyn Monroe with a pair of big ole titties, and spins on her heels to march back out the door.
To be fair, I’m legitimately shocked I even managed to get her inside. “Take me home, Argento. Now.”
Argento. She only calls me that when she’s deeply irritated.
Good. My plan’s working already, and we haven’t even reached the main event yet.
Not that I blame her for her desire to leave.
I want to leave, and the bar was my idea.
I lied through my teeth and told her Ren stopped by the house with a message from Zanni, claiming that if we weren’t seen out together as a couple more often, her father might catch wind of it.
She agreed very quickly after that. So quickly that an alarm pinged in my gut, but I’ll worry about that later.
She strides toward the exit, avoiding men in leather jackets and women in cut-off shorts, her ruffled blouse and fitted, knee-length skirt more eye-grabbing than if she’d worn something revealing.
In her nude heels with those red soles, she somehow makes dodging cigarette butts and spilled beer appear graceful.
That ability annoys me almost as much as it arouses me.
I snatch her back to my side, waving off Zo who’s keeping guard at the front, and murmur against the shell of her ear.
“Not so fast, my beautiful wife. Real married couples go out. See other people. We’re doing this to appease the Council, remember?
” My voice drops low, adopting on a grim timbre.
“Unless you want them stopping by unannounced again.”
I know I’ve struck a chord when she visibly deflates.
Her shoulders straighten almost immediately again as she allows me to lead her through the club to where a few of my groomsmen gather around a high-top near the pool table.
Samuel, Romney, and David are more drinking buddies than friends.
I don’t know much about any of them, other than the fact that we all frequent the same haunts.
They leer at my wife as we walk up, and she inspects them like they’re insects.
After enduring their rowdy antics and commentary for the better part of twenty minutes, she excuses herself to order a drink.
I have to give her credit, though, because that’s about eighteen more minutes than I expected her to last.
With an unobstructed view of Bianca carefully skirting a man with a chest-length beard passed out on the floor, I watch as she sidles up to the bar, her arms tucked tightly at her sides so she doesn’t dirty her pretty silk blouse.
She attempts to flag down a bartender, and her incensed expression when he ignores her has me chuckling under my breath.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and shoot Zo a text to set the next part of my plan in motion.
Showtime.
Not thirty seconds later, a man with wavy golden blond hair approaches her. He’s lean, and he carries himself with a cocky self-assurance that instantly grates on my nerves. He taps Bianca on the shoulder, and she whirls, clearly ready to tear the intruder a new asshole.
But when she meets his eyes, she freezes like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi.
Locating the escort I caught her with last year took some time and digging, but I found Gabriel Cooper and bribed him with five grand to “bump into” my wife as humiliating payback for all the shit she’s put me through.
Gabriel whispers in Bianca’s ear, and his hands confidently travel the length of her body, like he’s mapped her shape a dozen times before. They drop to her ass as he tugs her closer to press a kiss to her lips.
She jerks back and slams a palm on his chest, attempting to shove him away. Instead of cooperating, he tightens his grip and bends to her ear again.
White-hot rage ignites in my chest, and I’m on my feet before I even realize what I’m doing.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
I specifically told him not to touch her, but apparently, the bastard can’t keep his mitts to himself. And instead of enjoying my wife’s discomfort like I’d hoped, I only see red.
I fire off another quick text to Zo, who’s stationed several tables over.
He’s beside Bianca and the golden-haired prick in an instant.
Grabbing Gabriel by the scruff of his neck like a dog, he practically drags him to the club’s back door.
The blaring music drowns out the escort’s protests, but even if it didn’t, the people in this place are so accustomed to violence that it doesn’t even register as strange anymore.
Bianca stares after them in shock, her brows pinched together. Her head whips toward me, and I gesture toward the exit and start walking, not bothering to check whether she’s behind me.
When I exit through the back door leading to the alley, Zo’s zip-tying Gabriel’s hands together. A rag’s already stuffed in the blond’s mouth.
Bianca enters the gloomy alley a few moments later. “What the hell is all this about, Argento? If you think hiring Gabriel to sexually assault me in public while you watched is funny…” The accusation dies in her throat as she spies the man in question. “Oh my god. What are you doing?”
“Ensuring this cazzo never touches you again. No one touches what’s mine.” I prowl toward Gabriel, my lips curving when I glimpse the growing wet spot on his crotch. “I hired him to humiliate you, but he had specific instructions not to lay a finger on you.”
Bianca’s heels click on the asphalt behind me. “Wow, I knew you were a bastard, but I never thought you’d stoop this low.”
“Oh, you have no idea just how low I can go, Bianca.” I stand shoulder to shoulder with the escort, ignoring his muffled sobs and motioning for Zo to back away.
Taking a deep breath to channel my fury, I place one hand on his jaw and the other on the back of Gabriel’s head.
“Don’t do this, Marco. Tell me what you want from me, and we’ll negotiate.”
Ignoring my wife, I yank in a quick, angled twist. Cartilage gives with a sickening pop, flooding me with dark satisfaction.
As the dead escort slides to the ground, Bianca’s curse mingles with the music drifting from the bar.
With a sigh, Zo pulls out his phone and dials. “Nikolai.” A beat passes. “Assemble a team of cleaners. I’ll text you the address. Keep it discreet.” He pivots to me. “Nik’ll be here in twenty. Until then, I’ll watch the rear exit.”
Without another word, the man who resembles a gladiator more than an enforcer disappears inside the Garage.
Although I didn’t have killing this prick on tonight’s agenda, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to improvise. He understood the rules, and he broke them. He dared to put his hands on what’s mine.
Too bad I didn’t have time to—
The barrel of a nine-millimeter jams into my temple. Huh. I didn’t even know Bianca carried a weapon. Didn’t think our date night called for firearms, either, but apparently my wife disagreed.
“Give me one good reason not to put a bullet through your skull.”
Am I deranged if her display of aggression turns me on?
I rotate cautiously, and the gleam in her eyes reveals she’s tempted to pull the trigger. “Look.” Easing my hand up, I point to the security camera hanging off the edge of the Garage’s rain gutter. “Luca’s monitoring our every move.”
“Not good enough.” She shoves the gun against me harder. “I’m not afraid of your second.”
“He may look pretty, but he wouldn’t think twice about hunting you down and ensuring you die a slow, agonizing death if you kill me.
Still need another reason?” I huff a laugh and drop my hand.
“Try the Council. Your father. I don’t think they’d react too kindly if you fucked up their arrangement.
They’d punish everyone you care about. Tell me, Bianca. Who do you want to protect?”
The cloud that temporarily dulls her expression pricks my chest with shame, but I shake off the unwanted emotion.
I need her compliance, because my words aren’t an idle threat. If she kills me, she’ll suffer under Luca’s hand, regardless of how well they seem to get along.
And if anyone’s going to cause Bianca suffering, it’s me. No one else.
With fire blazing in those deep brown eyes, she tucks the gun in her purse. “Threaten me like that again, and you won’t like what happens.”
She strides away, bypassing the back door in favor of the alley. My wife may not have admitted as much, but that earlier flicker of fear wasn’t for herself.
I discovered a weak spot in her icy armor.
Now I just need to convince myself to exploit it.