35. Crew
She’s under my skin.
But what’s worse?
I don’t hate it.
It’s dangerous as hell, and my affections for the girl could be our downfall, but it doesn’t seem to matter how much distance I force between us, I’m still drawn to her, even if I’ll only allow myself to get as close as to watch her on the cameras.
I lean back in my desk chair and bring my glass of whiskey to my lips, relishing in the burn as it moves through my body. I don’t drink to get drunk, I never did, but right now the burn is keeping me from marching into Camilla’s room and taking her the way I crave.
One taste wasn’t enough, but it’s more than I should have afforded myself.
I never should have touched her. It wasn’t part of the plan.
But it’s too late now.
Kovu wanders into my office without pausing to knock, but at this point all three of these assholes think they own every room and just waltz in wherever the hell they want.
“Morning, Daddy Crew,” he chimes, and my eye twitches at the nickname. I’ve always hated it, but never more than I have the last few weeks, as if the reminder that I’m old enough to be Camilla’s father is going to squash all the images that run through my mind when I think of her.
“Kovu,” I grind out, throwing back the rest of the amber liquid to give me strength to make it through this conversation.
“You’re in a particularly bad mood this evening.”
“It’s getting worse by the second,” I mutter, refilling my drink without bothering to offer him one. Kovu has never been much of a drinker, perhaps a beer here and there, but he already feels out of control more often than not, and he doesn’t like that alcohol amplifies that.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I come with some interesting information from Noah.”
“Thorne?” I ask, leaning forward and propping my elbows on my solid oak desk.
He nods. “The very one. He said that when Charles called his father to try to set up a meeting and was hung up on, he then called Noah. He seemed to think he may be able to appeal to the younger generation when the old were turning him down.”
I rub my hand down my face and groan. I shouldn’t be surprised. Charles is smack dab in the middle of the age range of bosses we have in the city. We have the older generation, which are the current leaders, all over fifty and set in their ways. Then there are the leaders in training. Ranging from thirty to eighteen, Camilla being the youngest. And then there’s Charles, who’s my age. Thirty-eight and the biggest fucking pain in my ass.
The issue is that he has no obvious heirs to give his throne to when we wipe him off the face of the planet. No siblings that we’re aware of, only an illegitimate cousin. So the line of succession may end with him, and that’s never a pretty sight because the other families will want the territory.
His cousin is his right-hand man and isn’t a complete asshole, so he’s probably going to be our best bet despite his shaky legitimacy, but we’ll have to vet him to make sure he’s not as loyal to his cousin as Davenport probably likes to think he is.
“Did he say anything else?” I ask, taking a long sip of whiskey. I used to find my answers at the bottom of the bottle when I was younger, but it’s been a long time since I’ve searched for answers this way. But I guess it’s been a long time since a member of the opposite sex has made me feel like this.
More and more I’m thinking that none of us were truly interested in her because she never elicited the same responses from us that Camilla does. Perhaps she was convenient. Someone we thought was weak and could fit our little band of misfits. But maybe that was our problem. Maybe we never needed someone weak.
I shake myself off before I can allow her eyes to fill my mind. Camilla is like the fucking sun compared to her, and I never want to confuse the two in my mind, never want to compare my little menace to the woman who killed my brother.
“Nope, just that he and his dad are happy with how things are being run and they feel no need to seek change.”
I nod, at least that’s comforting, but then the Thornes have never been a problem. They’ve always been happy to stay in their lane and not cause any trouble. It was always them and De Marco who played by the rules, until he didn’t anymore.
“You seen the little lamb recently?” he asks, amusement playing on his lips.
I glare across the desk at him but find myself leaning back in my seat to avoid responding. “You need to stop calling her that.”
“Why? It’s fitting, if you ask me. Is she not a lamb among the wolves?”
“That may be true. But giving her a nickname like that makes her seem weak, and that’s not a word I would ever use to describe Camilla De Marco.”
Strong? Fierce? Fiery? Beautiful? Yes.
Weak? Absolutely not.
“Little Menace,” he challenges, and the sound of my nickname for her on his lips is all wrong. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
I sigh and rub a hand down my face. He may be seen as just muscle by the people outside these walls, but he’s just as perceptive as the rest of us. “I saw her this morning, if you must know.” I’d rather not give him any more details if I don’t have to, not when my feelings toward our guest are muddled and uncertain. Things I’m not accustomed to. Not anymore.
He hums thoughtfully as he drags his pocketknife from his pocket and begins gliding the blade up his scarred arm. He used to do this a lot when he was younger, but I haven’t seen him do it in a long time. Sometimes the pain is the only way he can think clearly. “Kaos wants her gone.”
I nod. “He does. He thinks she’s a threat to us and our business.”
“Do you agree with those sentiments?”
I pause and take another long pull from my glass. That’s a loaded question if there ever was one. Do I think there’s a chance she could pull down the operation we have carefully crafted over the last eight years? Yes. But not because I think she’s going to betray us. I’m worried she’s going to change us. That the ruthless men that stand before her today will cease to exist if we allow ourselves to fall into her orbit. “No. I don’t think she’s a threat to the business. If anything, I think she could be the best thing to ever happen to the Syndicate.”
“Because we can use her?”
“No. Because she’s the right combination of sweet and ruthless. She’s what we don’t have in the five families right now. Miriam leading the Sterlings is the only woman’s touch we have in the Syndicate.”
“And she’s worse than all the men,” he notes.
I hum a response and take another thoughtful sip. “I recognize that there is an element of using involved in what I have proposed, but it goes both ways. She agrees to take the family and to be ours, in whatever capacity we can agree on, then she gets the best of both worlds. She gets our protection above what we would ever offer the other families.”
“And you think they’re going to be okay with that?”
“I think they’ll have to be. The De Marcos will continue to pay the same fee the other families pay, and they will be under the same sanctions. But there will inevitably be times when Camilla will get preferential treatment, and that’s just going to be how it’s going to be.”
A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “So you’re open to having her here with us? On a permanent basis?”
I drag in a breath, my lungs burning under the pressure sitting on my chest. Ever since we formed the Syndicate, I’ve felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. Except for the brief moment my lips were pressed to Camilla’s. The whole world melted away for the seconds that lapsed all too quickly.
“Yes. I would like to see how things play out with her between us.”
Kovu’s smile is a rare sight, but I’m always struck by how it transforms the tortured kid I found behind a dumpster covered in his father’s blood all those years ago.
“One to go.”