6. Theo
I entered the De Luca, one of the restaurants that I owned, a respectable business that washed my money and housed my criminal activities—and none of my customers had a clue. They got their reservations for anniversaries and birthday celebrations, not knowing about the underworld that lay below.
The lights were left on, but the restaurant was dark, the tables covered in fresh tablecloths in preparation for the next day. The floor had been swept and mopped. After the closing crew locked the doors and set the alarm, my crew descended into the depths.
There was a stairway at the back of the kitchen, locked during business hours. One time, my manager had asked what was behind the door, and when I didn’t answer, he didn’t ask again. I took the circular staircase down to the bottom, far below the restaurant, to the bunker that had been reconstructed into a bar. There were other passageways that led here through the sewer system, but I preferred not to go that way.
When I stepped through the door, loud music greeted me, along with a cloud of smoke. Some of the guys were gambling at their tables. Others were hustling the waitresses who were also prostitutes—at least most of them.
When they realized I was there, the energy changed. It dipped noticeably, like the guys didn’t know what kind of mood I was going to be in when I walked in there.
Shit, I didn’t even know.
I found Octavio at one of the tables and dropped into the chair across from him. A beer appeared out of nowhere and was placed in front of me by one of my favorite girls. Another brought a tray of cigars, serving me like some kind of king. “Thanks, sweetheart.” I immediately lit up and let the smoke float to the ceiling.
If a bullet didn’t kill me, it would be lung or liver cancer—guaranteed.
I looked at Octavio, and the conversation in the underground tunnel slowly returned to normal. One of my properties was another meeting place for us. This was a more casual spot to solidify our camaraderie. Nothing brought men closer together than booze, cigars, and women. “So?”
“He’s pretty stealthy.”
“Yeah? Stealthy isn’t the word I would use to describe running away from a fight like some chickenshit.” Draven had captured me as a way to draw out Axel, but in the end, we got the upper hand and he ran off like a fucking coward.
“He’s more cautious now.”
“He can be as cautious as he wants, but I’ll still find that motherfucker.” Dante had opened up a can of worms when he’d recruited his friend from the north. Draven thought he could take my drug business from me like I was giving out candy on Halloween. “He knows this isn’t over, so either he’ll strike or I’ll strike. There’s no way one of us isn’t dead by the end of this.”
Octavio smashed his cigar into the ashtray to put it out. “I’ll keep looking.”
“I know you will, Octavio. We’ve got eyes everywhere.”
“Just remember, he’s got eyes everywhere too.”
I was spread in multiple directions every day, but declaring war on the Brotherhood for my brother’s death had spread me even thinner. I always had enemies, but now I had big enemies.
Scarlett’s eyes lit up at the sight of me. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.” She moved into me and hugged me the way a little sister would hug her brother. She wasn’t as tall as me, so her cheek moved to my chest.
“You know how it gets.” I pressed a kiss to her temple before I let her go.
“You could always retire, you know.” She pulled away and gave me a little smile before she stepped away.
“Men like me don’t retire.”
“Axel did.”
“That’s it.”
“How?”
“He found me.”
“And you’re telling me there’s not some piece of ass out there just waiting for you to walk into her life and set it on fire? Oh, I’m sure she’s out there…just waiting.” She moved toward the kitchen.
Axel was at the table with Dante, the two of them talking while the kids jumped all over them. When Axel realized I was there, he grinned and rose from his chair before he walked toward me. “There he is.” He embraced me with a bear hug and a hard thump on the back. “Thanks for coming.”
“I won’t turn down Scarlett’s cooking.”
Their son beelined straight for my knee, grabbing on to my leg and looking up at me with a smile. “Uncle Theo!” he exclaimed. At least, that was what I decided he said.
“Hey, little man.” I ruffled my fingers through his hair as I smiled down at him, seeing the spitting image of Axel looking back at me, with that same dirty-blond hair and blue eyes. “Been good for your mama?”
He smiled wider and shook his head. “No.”
“I figured.”
He let go of my leg and ran off to his mother.
Axel’s daughter was on Dante’s thigh, and judging by the smile Dante wore, he enjoyed being a grandfather. Dante put her on the floor, and she toddled off.
On the way, she bumped into my leg and grinned up at me.
“Hi, sweetheart.” I smiled as I watched her go then turned to regard Dante.
My smile immediately disappeared.
Dante stuck out his hand to shake mine. “It’s been a while.”
I didn’t take it. “Not long enough.” I still had to clean up his mess, a monster that he’d unleashed from a cage.
“Theo.” Axel said my name lightly.
“I’m not fucking his daughter, so I’m not so inclined to forgive and forget.” I moved to the bar behind Scarlett and helped myself to the bottle of wine sitting there. I poured myself a glass then came to Scarlett’s side. “What’s for dinner?”
“Bistecca all Fiorentina with scalloped potatoes and sauteed broccolini.”
“My favorite. Sounds fucking amazing.”
She gave me a quick nudge in the side before she nodded toward her daughter.
“Sorry.” I took a drink.
“I’d appreciate it if you tried to get along with my father, Theo.”
“Trust me, I am getting along with him.” If I weren’t, he’d be bleeding all over the tile.
She gave me a hard look.
“You and Axel are out of the game, but I’m not. There are consequences to his actions—and I’m still dealing with them.”
After dinner, Scarlett and Dante took the kids upstairs to get them ready for bed.
Axel and I left the kitchen so the butler could take care of the dishes and clean up. We entered the study and took a seat in the comfortable armchairs. It was the only room in the house where we were allowed to smoke, so that was where we lit up.
“So.” Axel crossed one ankle over the opposite knee.
“So.” I let the smoke fill my mouth and nostrils before I released it in a cloud.
“How are things in the underworld?”
“You aren’t in the game anymore, Axel.” I brought the smoke into my mouth again and let it simmer on my tongue.
“But you are, so a part of me always will be.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“If I don’t, who will?” He let the cigar rest in his fingertips as his arm lay on the armrest.
I’d been alone a long time, but the loneliness had worn off. Now, I thrived in solitude, preferring to spend my nights alone or with a woman who knew she would never mean anything to me.
“What’s your plan with Bolton?”
“Corner him and make him talk. But he’s hard to nail down.”
“What if you hire him?”
I released the smoke and let the cigar rest between my fingertips.
“Hire him to kill someone. And when he shows up to meet you—kill him.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“I can do it for you. I never had dealings with the Brotherhood, so they don’t know who I am.”
“You’re out of the game, Axel.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you.”
He was more loyal to me than my own men. Our blood was different, but it felt like it passed through the same heart. He was the last person in my life I genuinely cared for. Everyone else was a situationship, but he was family. “I appreciate the offer, but that’s never going to happen. I would never do that to your wife.”
“She would understand. She loves you too, Theo.”
I’d liked Scarlett the moment I met her, the way she commanded a room and stated what she wanted without hesitation. She looked me in the eye and told me what she wanted, having the kind of confidence that was uncommon in a woman. Even though she and Axel had been broken up for months at that point, I knew she was still his woman, so I walked out on her. It was the precursor to the relationship we had now. She really did feel like a sister. “You have a beautiful family, Axel. I would never risk what you have.”
He smirked. “Yeah, I do.”
“So, don’t worry about me.” I’d get my brother’s bones and bury them in the cemetery where they belonged. His tombstone had been engraved when he passed, and the soil was ready to receive whatever was left of him. The plot next to him was reserved—for me.
“Easier said than done, man.”
Dante walked into the room a moment later, casting me a wary stare as he moved to the couch.
There was a scar on his temple from where I’d thrown a glass at his head in this very room.
He sat back and crossed his ankle on the opposite knee.
I stared him down and waited for him to leave.
He held my look. “If there’s anything I can do to help you with Draven?—”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“Then you have nothing to offer me, Dante.”
“I can call him.”
“How stupid do you think he is?”
Axel’s eyes shifted back and forth between us.
Dante didn’t reach for the cigars on the table between us. “A few years of silence have passed. I think it’s fair to assume he’s focused his attention on his own territory and spared yours.”
“I assume nothing, Dante,” I said coldly. “He had you as an ally before, so he assumed he had his conquest in the bag. But now he knows who he’s dealing with, and he’s taken his time to plot and think. He almost killed me, and he knows I won’t forget that. So if he doesn’t kill me, he knows I’ll kill him. The fuse has been lit, and at some point, it’ll explode.”
Dante didn’t drop his gaze from my stare, holding it without shame.
“I’ll kill him—and then I’ll take his territory. I’ve had my sights set on it anyway.”
I showered after my workout. By the time I woke up and was ready for the day, it was noon.
I looked at my phone before I headed downstairs and saw the message from George. Yourartworkiscurrentlybeinghunginthestudy.
Which meant Astrid was here.
The bombshell brunette who was so damn fine. With almond-shaped eyes, green like emeralds and an ass that looked like a summer nectarine in her tight dresses, the woman had a mouth that fired off like a pistol.
Her husband was a fucking idiot.
I hoped she realized that sooner rather than later—and not just because I wanted to fuck her.
I made it to the bottom floor and stepped into the study. Painter’s tape was on the walls to mark exactly where the paintings would go, and I assumed that was her doing so the guys knew where to put their nails.
A group of four guys picked up one of the biggest paintings then lifted it to the wall, catching it on the nails that had been hammered in to support it. It hooked correctly, and they stepped back to see where the painting sat.
It was perfectly straight.
Astrid stood there and examined it, wearing a pencil skirt and boots, her black blouse tucked in. She picked up a level and climbed the ladder until she placed the tool on one side of the painting to check that it was perfectly straight.
I looked at her ass—and I wasn’t the only one.
“It’s good.” She climbed back down the steps and turned to the guys. “Alright, on to the next—” She froze when she saw me, the color in her face so pale it was as if she’d seen a ghost. She did her best to recover, but the damage had been done. “Theo, I wasn’t expecting you. I was hoping you could see it when we’re all done.”
I looked at the painting they’d just hung up. “Looks good so far.” I was in just my sweatpants because I wasn’t going to change my clothes for her or anyone else. It was my home, so I could wear whatever the fuck I wanted. “I need something from my desk.”
“Oh, of course.”
I moved to the chair behind my desk and unlocked my laptop.
They got back to work, moving on to the next painting, this one over the fireplace.
I pretended to look at my screen, but I looked at her instead, and so did the guys. Her wedding ring was absent once again. As I stared at her, I noticed the melancholy in her eyes, the same sorrow that had been there since the moment we’d met. That meant she and her husband were still having problems…or she didn’t have a husband.
I hoped it was the second one.
An hour later, they finished the last painting, and my once-bare walls were now full of the disturbed paintings that no one else valued. When others saw horror, I saw beauty…misunderstood beauty.
The guys filed out first and returned to their truck outside.
Astrid looked around at the paintings one more time before she approached my desk. “So, what do you think?” Her hands came together at her belly button, her shoulders back and her spine straight, a professional with a hint of elegance. It was hard to take her seriously when she was so damn beautiful. I was unsurprised to learn she was married to a rich man, because women like her were always promoted to trophy wife, a position they were happy to take because of all the perks. But in her case, it seemed like she actually loved her husband, which made the whole thing sadder.
The idiot didn’t know what he had.
“You did a great job.”
She turned around to take another look, admiring the paintings in the dark space, not realizing just how tight her ass looked in that skirt.
My eyes dropped to stare, wishing I could have a painting of that ass on my wall.
“Everything you chose really does fit the space perfectly.”
“You mean, fit me perfectly.” Dark. Disturbed. Enigmatic.
She turned back to face me, that hint of melancholy in her eyes once again.
I stared back at her, holding her eyes like I was squeezing them in a closed fist. There was a magnetic pull to her, affecting every object in the room with her, like the sun pulled on every planet in our star system.
She could hold my stare without looking away, which was what most women did. Whether it was across the bar or in a crowded room, they looked away the second our eyes connected. Sometimes they spoke to me, and sometimes they accepted my drink—but they couldn’t sustain the eye contact.
She could.
I could stare at her all day…like another painting in this room.
She cleared her throat. “I guess this concludes our business.”
“It does.” I left my desk and walked past her, catching a whiff of her perfume, wet roses in spring. My decanter of scotch was on the table where I’d left it, but I went to sit without pouring a glass. I sat at the side of the couch, one arm on the armrest.
She moved to the armchair, the seat I normally occupied.
I didn’t usually ask a woman to dinner, to a place where we could talk over candlelight, because I wasn’t much of a talker. Never had been and never would be. I had no desire for a relationship except for the fuck-buddy kind, where you would get that random phone call in the middle of the night to fuck.
But I wanted to ask her out again.
She sat with her ankles crossed, her delicate hands in her lap, looking like a queen without a crown, invisible weight on her shoulders. Her chin was tilted down, and her thick lashes curled away from her cheek.
I wanted to ask her, but I didn’t.
I wanted to ask what had happened with her husband, but I didn’t.
I wanted to know everything about her, but I had to accept I never would.
She lifted her chin and looked at me again. “Are you free tonight?”
My expression didn’t change, but I felt an uptick in my heartbeat, a subtle change in my pulse. “What did you have in mind, sweetheart?”
“Thought I could take you out to dinner.”
No woman had ever said that to me, and it was really sexy. “I have to reject the offer, sweetheart.”
Her stare remained steady, but I could see a hint of disappointment.
“Because I’m the one taking you to dinner.”
She parked her car at my villa, and we went together.
I assumed that meant she intended to stay over, but I would never assume that until her dress was on my bedroom floor. Until her heels dug into my ass because we were in too much of a hurry to take them off.
I drove us in my blacked-out Range Rover, the vehicle I preferred to take because it was a special build, the windows and the body bulletproof. She was beside me, her legs crossed in her little black dress, the material up dangerously high.
I tested out the waters and moved my hand to her thigh, feeling the soft skin of those beautiful legs. My eyes stayed on the road with my hand on the wheel, so I didn’t see her reaction if she had one.
She didn’t push my hand away. Instead, she hooked her arm around my forearm, her small hand resting partially on top of mine, her skin cold to the touch against the heat of my skin.
We drove the rest of the way in silence, the radio off.
She wasn’t a talker like most women. She didn’t run her mouth a million miles a minute. Whenever she spoke, it was deliberate and purposeful. Silence was a sign of confidence, so if she could withstand the tension that built between us, that meant her spine was metal rather than jelly.
I parked the Range Rover then placed my hand against her lower back as I guided her to the entrance. Even in her sky-high heels, she was still a foot shorter than me. My hand rested right above the top of her perky ass, and I wanted to slide it down farther.
I pulled out her chair when we made it to our table then sat across from her.
She was a bombshell in that little black dress, thin straps over her shoulders, her tits stretching the fabric the way my arms nearly ripped through my shirt. She’d taped down her nipples instead of wearing a bra, but she was cold, so her nipples were slightly visible as they pebbled.
I’d offer her my jacket if I had one.
But I was glad I didn’t.
I ordered two scotches the second the waitress walked up, then we were left alone again.
“I appreciate scotch, but I don’t drink it the way you do.”
“You’ll get there.”
A little smile moved on to her full lips. “I’d be hammered all day if I drank that much.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I had a buzz. Scotch was like water to me now.
The waitress returned with the two glasses.
“She’ll also have a water.”
The waitress nodded and walked away.
“I’ll drink yours if you don’t want it.”
“And you’ll be able to drive out of here?” she asked incredulously.
“I can do more than drive, sweetheart.”
Her smile slowly disappeared, and so did her gaze.
I was desperate to know what had happened between her and her husband, but I would never ask. I didn’t like to pull information out of people, only receive it freely…unless they were stupid enough to cross me.
The fact that she’d asked me to dinner told me some of the story—that she was either ready to give the open marriage a try or she was ready to move on. Maybe she would tell me by the end of the night.
The waitress returned with the water.
“Thank you,” Astrid said quietly, her eyes dark with the shadow she wore. She had catlike eyes, and she’d done something with her makeup to make them appear bigger, smokier and sultrier.
This woman sold art, but she could easily sell herself. I’d been with escorts who charged a million dollars for the evening—and she could charge double. I hadn’t fucked her yet, but even if she just lay there while I did all the work, that’d be just fine with me.
I picked up the menu and took a look. “I hope you aren’t getting another salad.”
She smirked slightly, like she might laugh. “I don’t want to look bloated.”
“Why?”
She seemed to realize what she’d just admitted and looked down into her water glass before she took a drink. “Just don’t.”
“A belly isn’t going to make my dick less hard, sweetheart.”
Her eyes immediately flicked up.
“Get what you want,” I said. “I’m getting the lasagna.” I set the menu down, confident in my selection.
She continued to stare at me before she looked at the menu again.
When the waitress returned to the table, I ordered first to give her another moment to decide. “I’ll take the meat lasagna.”
She took one final look at the menu before she handed it over. “I’ll have the same.”
I smirked before I took a drink. “Attagirl.”
“My parents are from Milan,” she said. “We moved to Florence when I was about ten.”
“They still live in the city?”
“No…they’re gone.”
I gave a slow nod in understanding, absorbing her sadness. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while now.”
“Can I ask what happened?” Unless her parents were older when they had her, they should still be mobile and healthy. It must have been a tragedy, like a car accident.
“Well, my mom got sick. By the time they caught it, there was nothing they could do. She was gone in three weeks. And then my dad…” She stopped and stared at her water glass, taking a moment to combat the pain inside. “He killed himself a month after she was gone. He just couldn’t live without her…” She moved her stare from the water glass to her half-eaten plate, keeping her emotion locked behind an invisible dam as best she could.
Sorry was such an empty and ambiguous thing to say, so I avoided saying it at all costs. But I truly felt sorry for her. “I’m sorry.” I repeated the words I’d already said, but I wished there were something else I could have said instead.
She grabbed her fork and cut off a small piece of her lasagna, but she let it sit on her plate instead of taking a bite. Her eyes were down for a few more seconds before she had the strength to look at me once more.
“Do you hate him?”
“Hate him?” she whispered. “No, I could never hate him.”
To leave behind his only child was a cowardly thing to do—in my opinion. Even if she was an adult who lived on her own, every child needed their parent. Different stages of life presented different needs. You needed a parent to hold you when you were scared at night, and then one day, you needed their friendship and advice.
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
“And how old are you now?” It was hard to tell. She didn’t look as young as a twenty-one-year-old, but she didn’t look thirty either.
“Twenty-eight. So it’s been about ten years.”
“Time doesn’t make things easier. It just puts distance between the past and the present.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly on my face, looking at me with a greater depth. “Who did you lose?”
“My brother.”
She said the phrase that I despised, but she said it with such sincerity that I didn’t mind. “I’m sorry.”
“He was my twin.”
She gave a slow nod, like she understood how much more painful that made it. “I can’t imagine two of you.”
“One of me is enough.”
“How did he die?”
I hesitated, unsure exactly how he’d met his end, but the tidbits I did know were torture. “Someone wanted him dead. He had a habit of pissing off people everywhere he went.”
She didn’t smirk. Her eyes remained serious. “Did you kill them?”
“I still haven’t figured out who it is. But I will…eventually.”
She returned her gaze to her plate.
I said horrible things, but she didn’t flinch at the words. She seemed accustomed to this life. Death and torture didn’t faze her like they did most women. I didn’t talk about work with my women because it always made them uncomfortable. It was a breath of fresh air telling her the truth without seeing the cringe. “How did your father do it?”
She stared at her plate a moment later. “Left the car on in the garage.”
“No chance it was an accident?”
“He left a note.”
I gave a slight nod in somber understanding.
“Said he was sorry…and he loved me.”
But that wasn’t enough. The love of a parent for their child should always be enough. “I wouldn’t show so much grace.”
Her eyes found mine again. “Why?”
“Because he had something to live for.” A beautiful daughter, who was as smart as she was pretty.
“My father was in a lot of pain when he lost my mother.”
“I’m sure he was. But that’s not good enough.”
“I thought you weren’t the judgmental type?”
“I’m not?—”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing. My parents had been together since high school. Blissfully happy at every age. Grew old together with grace. They tried to have a family for a long time, but it didn’t happen…until I finally came along. I was their miracle baby, and they treasured me like a miracle. I won’t replace the love in my heart with anger and resentment. I won’t forfeit all my good memories because of a tragic decision he made. Don’t judge people for feeling such inescapable misery just because you’ve never felt it yourself. Just be grateful that you don’t understand. And if you’re lucky enough, you never will.”
I got lost in those words, bumps forming on my arms from the wisdom of her words and the depth of her heart. Unlike me, she didn’t let the bad tarnish her soul. She continued to shine on, pure and vibrant like the sun that appeared from behind the buildings every morning. “You’re right. I apologize.” It was the first time I’d said that in a decade—and she had no idea. She had no idea the power she already had over me. “I feel protective of you. And knowing you were abandoned at such a tender age provoked the worst in me.”
“Protective of me?” she whispered. “You barely know me.”
“And you barely know me, so you don’t know that I never take a woman out to dinner—but I’ve taken you twice.”
Her eyes flicked away for just a second in reaction before she looked at me again. Her confidence faltered, and a moment of vulnerability shone through. My words struck a chord…a couple of chords. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why have you taken me out to dinner twice?”
I cocked my head slightly. “I want to fuck you.”
She didn’t flinch at the audacity of my words.
“And I care for you.”
When my hand went to her thigh on the drive home, it slipped underneath her dress, almost to her panties underneath.
I wanted to look and see exactly what color they were, but I kept my eyes on the road.
She took a deep breath when she felt my touch, but she didn’t push my hand away. A moment later, her hand moved over mine, and then her fingertips lightly traced my hard knuckles.
I parked on my property behind the iron gate, and then we entered the home that was far too big for a single man. But I needed somewhere to put my money, and I needed something substantial to keep out the vermin. The windows were bulletproof, and the main doors were thicker than the walls of a vault. It was disguised with elegant décor, but it only distracted onlookers from the truth—that it was a fortress.
We walked to my bedroom upstairs, and along the way, I felt her anxiety increase, felt her energy change from calm and confident to erratic. It was a subtle change in her breathing, a drop in her shoulders, just her presence.
I walked inside first and grabbed the bottle of scotch from the bar.
She entered my room slowly, like it was the first time she’d been in there.
“Want a drink, sweetheart?”
“Sure.”
I poured two glasses and carried them to the sitting room. I took a seat on the couch so she could sit next to me if that was what she wanted. There were moments when I could tell she clearly wanted me, but then there would be a surge of sabotage, guilt that squeezed her around the throat and cut off her air supply.
She joined me on the couch, but she kept several feet in between us.
We’d been closer together in the Range Rover.
She liked my touch when things couldn’t go anywhere, but now that this could go somewhere, she was withdrawn and distant.
I drank from my glass then put it on the table beside me. I was just about to speak, but she beat me to it.
“You’re probably wondering what happened between my husband and me.” She looked at the coffee table for several seconds before she looked at me again.
“You don’t owe me an explanation, sweetheart.”
She watched me for a while before she dropped her gaze again. “I’ve decided to give it a try.”
I’d never felt aroused and disappointed at the same time, but it happened now. She deserved better than this asshole, but that was something she needed to figure out on her own. I wanted her, and I would settle for a piece of her if I had to.
“Is-is that okay with you?”
“My opinion doesn’t matter.”
“I meant…will you sleep with a married woman?”
I’d done it before—and not because they were in an open marriage. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
She hesitated, as if she expected me to say something more about it. To talk her out of it. To put a stop to it.
“Sweetheart?”
It took her a moment to look at me again.
“There’s no rush.”
She released a breath like she’d been holding it. “I’m sorry. I just?—”
“Don’t apologize to me.” My words came out harsher than I meant.
Her eyes darted away.
“You owe me nothing. Not an explanation. Not a debt.”
She stared at the black TV on the wall, the fireplace underneath it. She sat that way for seconds before she finally turned to look at me once more, more confident than she’d been a minute ago. “I don’t want to talk about him when we’re together.”
“I don’t want to talk about him ever.”
“I want to do this. It’s just… It’s hard.” She looked away again. “I feel like I’m doing something wrong, even though I’m not… Even though he’s already done it.”
Her words shouldn’t make me angry, but they did. Theymademereallyangry.
“But I’ll get there.”
I wanted to ask why she stayed in the marriage at all, why she didn’t just pack her shit and leave. But since she’d just said she didn’t want to talk about it, I let it go. Maybe it was because she loved him. Maybe it was because she thought he would get it out of his system and they’d be what they used to be. I didn’t know.
But I would enjoy her until that time came. “And I’ll be here whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”