5. Nerio
5
NERIO
I loathed leaving Jazz again. Not when she was letting me touch her, looking like she might actually give in to me.
But when she stumbled back at my too honest answer — the fear and excitement in her eyes that I love to see — I let her go. This is all part of the thrill, and I'm okay dragging it out a little longer.
Two days later, though, as I drum my fingers against the mahogany conference table I find my patience is waning. The private room at Carmine's steakhouse provides the perfect cover — legitimate enough to avoid suspicion, exclusive enough to keep prying eyes away.
"The Mantiones crossed another line last night. Two of our delivery trucks hijacked, drivers beaten." I lock eyes with Marco, my most experienced enforcer. "Found them zip-tied in an alley off Michigan Avenue."
"Fucking animals." Tony leans forward, jaw clenched. "We should hit back hard. Send a message."
"And start an all-out war?" I shake my head. "Lorenzo wants this handled with precision. We're not the Mantiones - we don't leave messy trails. Or make other families think that we will act in such a manner."
"What's our play then, boss?" Ray asks, cigarette dangling from his lips.
I stand, pacing the length of the table. "First, we fortify our routes. Increase security on all shipments. Marco, I want your best guys rotating shifts."
"Done."
"Second, we need eyes on their operation. Tony, reach out to your contact at the docks. Find out which warehouses they're using to store our merchandise."
"They've been careful lately," Tony says. "Moving locations every few days."
"Then we'll be more careful." I plant my hands on the table, leaning forward. "Ray, put your street kids to work. I want every Mantione movement tracked. Pay them well, but keep them at arm's length."
"What about their new enforcer?" Marco asks. "Guy's been recruiting heavily the past month."
"Leave him to me." I straighten up, adjusting my suit jacket. "Focus on intelligence gathering. No retaliation without my direct order. Anyone steps out of line, they answer to me personally. Clear?"
A chorus of "Yes, boss" echoes around the table.
"One more thing." I pause, making sure I have their complete attention. "Double check your circles. Someone's feeding them information about our routes. Find the leak."
"You think we got a rat?" Tony's hand instinctively moves to his holster.
"I think someone's talking too much at the wrong bars. Fix it." Nods go around the table, and I move back to my chair, taking a seat and looking the picture of casual. "Good. Any other ideas?"
Marco clears his throat, drawing my attention. His dark blue eyes hold that calculating look I've come to rely on over the years.
"What about Jimmy at the docks? He owes me for keeping his kid out of trouble last month."
I lean back in my chair, considering. Marco's network of contacts runs deep - built on years of traded favors and carefully cultivated relationships.
"Jimmy's good, but we need more." I tap my finger against the polished wood. "The Mantiones are spreading wider than the docks these days."
"I got other plays." Marco's tattoos shift as he crosses his arms. "Remember Carlo? Runs that sports bar on Taylor Street? His place is neutral ground — Mantione guys drink there all the time. They get loose-lipped after a few rounds."
Tony perks up. "Carlo's still around? Thought he went back to Sicily."
"Nah." Marco shakes his head. "Got too comfortable here. Plus his wife would kill him if he tried moving her away from her mother."
"Carlo could work." I straighten in my chair. "What else?"
"Got a guy in their territory — runs numbers for both families. Says Luca's been meeting with some new faces."
Ray whistles low. "Expanding? That's a bold play."
"Makes sense though." Marco leans forward. "He's desperate to prove himself. New partnerships mean new muscle."
The others nod, processing this information. Marco's always had a knack for seeing the bigger picture - one of many reasons he's my right hand.
"Work your contacts," I tell him. "But keep it quiet. Last thing we need is the Mantiones catching wind we're asking questions."
"Already on it, boss. Got a few meetings set up tonight."
The meeting continues, but my thoughts keep drifting to Jazz. The sway of her hips as she works the floor of my club. That defiant spark in her eyes when she challenges me. The way her breath caught when I touched her earlier.
"You good, boss?" Marco's voice cuts through my distraction. "You went quiet there."
I wave off his concern. "Just considering angles. Speaking of which - increase security at the club. I want more guys on rotation."
Tony raises an eyebrow. "The club? You think they'll try that shit again?"
"They're stupid." I fix him with a hard stare. "Especially now they're desperate to prove themselves. I'm not taking chances."
"This about the new manager?" Ray asks, stubbing out his cigarette. "The one with the-"
"Choose your next words carefully." My voice drops low, a clear warning that makes Ray snap his mouth shut.
Marco shifts in his seat, drawing attention away from the tension. "I'll handle the club security personally. Already got eyes on some prospects who know how to be discreet."
"Good." I drum my fingers against the table again, an old habit when I'm strategizing. "And I want updates on anyone who comes through those doors. Especially if they're paying too much attention to my staff."
"Your staff? Or one staff member in particular?" Marco keeps his tone neutral, but I catch the knowing look in his eyes.
"Problem?"
He shakes his head. "No problem. Just making sure we're clear on priorities."
"The priorities," I lean forward, voice hard as steel, "are whatever I say they are. Jazz is off limits. Anyone even looks at her wrong, I want to know about it."
The room falls silent. They all know that tone — it's the same one I use before someone disappears permanently.
"Understood," Marco says, already pulling out his phone to make arrangements.
My mind drifts back to Jazz's fierce independence, how she pretends my presence doesn't affect her. But I've seen the way she watches me when she thinks I'm not looking. The slight tremble in her hands when I get too close.
She can fight it all she wants, but she's mine to protect. Whether she likes it or not.
"We're done here." I push back from the table, my decision already made. "Marco, stay on those contacts. The rest of you know what to do."
They file out quickly, years of working together making explanations unnecessary. Only Marco lingers, that knowing look still in his eyes.
"Tell Jazz I say hi." He smirks, ducking out before I can respond.
The drive to the club takes fifteen minutes - enough time for the sun to set and the first wave of patrons to start lining up outside. I slip in through the back entrance, nodding at the security guard who immediately straightens his posture.
The basement office hallway is quiet compared to the throbbing bass above. I pause outside her door, watching through the narrow window.
Jazz sits at her desk, completely absorbed in whatever's on her computer screen. A strand of her curly hair has escaped its updo, and she absently tucks it behind her ear as she types.
The sight of her - so focused, so unguarded - does something to my chest I'd rather not examine too closely. I push the door open without knocking.
"Working late?"
Jazz jumps slightly, but recovers quickly. "Jesus, you need a bell or something."
"Now where's the fun in that?" I cross to her desk, enjoying how she tries to subtly shift away. "What's got you so captivated?"
"Inventory reports." She gestures at the screen. "Someone's been comping too many drinks to their friends. I'm cross-referencing employee shifts with the missing stock."
"And?"
"And I've got a pretty good idea who's been stealing from you." She pulls up a spreadsheet, pointing to highlighted sections. "Your new bartender, Rick? His shifts line up perfectly with the discrepancies."
I lean over her shoulder, breathing in the subtle scent of her perfume. "Look at you, playing detective."
"It's called doing my job." But I catch the pleased note in her voice, the slight lift of her chin.
"Impressive work." A grin pulls at my lips as I watch the way more praise seems to brighten her eyes and soften her expression.
She's so damn beautiful when she's trying to pretend I don't affect her.
Quickly, she drops her head like she realizes what she's doing, and one of her strands falls into her face. Before I can stop myself, I'm leaning across the desk, aching for the slightest touch of her.
Her curls are soft against my fingers as I brush that wayward strand back, letting my touch linger. Jazz stills under my hand, her breath catching. The space between us crackles with tension.
"You know," I murmur, "being this observant could be dangerous in my world."
She tilts her head, meeting my gaze with that defiant spark I can't get enough of. "Are you threatening me?"
"Protecting you." I trace my finger along her jaw. "There are people who wouldn't appreciate such... attention to detail."
"I can handle myself." But her voice wavers slightly as I step around the desk, caging her between my body and the wall.
"Can you?" My hand slides to cup the back of her neck. "Because right now, you're trembling."
"That's not-" She swallows hard. "That's not fear."
"No?" I lean in until our faces are inches apart. "Then what is it, little dove?"
Her fingers grip the edge of the desk, knuckles white. "You know exactly what you're doing."
"I'm making sure you understand the position you're in." I brush my thumb across her pulse point, feeling it race. "Working for me means you're under my protection. But it also means you need to be careful."
"Why?" She lifts her chin. "Because someone might notice I'm good at my job?"
"Because someone might notice how valuable you are to me."
Her eyes widen at the admission. I can see her processing the implications - both the danger and the possessiveness in my words.
"I didn't ask for your protection," she whispers, but there's less conviction now.
"You didn't have to." I let my lips ghost across her temple. "Some things aren't up for negotiation, Jazz."
A small sound escapes her throat - somewhere between protest and surrender. Her body sways toward mine even as she tries to maintain distance.
And I can't wait until the moment when she finally gives in.