Chapter 2 #3
“What’s going on?” I hear his voice before one of the other brothers appears in the doorway. Alessio, I believe.
“He says he’s here to walk to Carmine about business,” the guard explains.
Alessio is eying me now, and motions two more guards over. The guard behind me nudges me forward into the entryway, then closes the door behind us.
“Soren Fiorelli,” Alessio says with recognition. “I can’t imagine what you could possibly want on the day of our father’s death, besides using it for your own gain.”
I chuckle softly. “You’re right, but it will also be your gain. You need our alliance now more than ever.”
“So, you’re here to talk about alliance?” Alessio asks.
“Perhaps. With Carmine,” I tell him simply. “I have my gun, that’s it.” I put my hand toward my hip, but wait for Alessio to nod and keep the guards from jumping me before I reveal it under my jacket.
“Carmine is not available for discussions right now,” Alessio tells me. “I can relay a message.”
“I must insist on speaking to him directly.” I don’t break eye contact.
Alessio stares back at me. I can see his eyes are pink from previous crying, but he’s pulled himself together quite well. He looks polished and put together, well dressed, and doesn’t smell like alcohol or blood.
“Fine. Hand over your gun,” he extends a hand.
I sigh and unclip my weapon, placing it in his hand. “If you’re going to pat me down, I’d rather just strip naked right here.”
“Too bad,” Alessio snaps. “Check him.”
I roll my eyes but put my arms up, and the guard beside me pats down my sides, hips, pockets, and the front and back of my jeans. I feel his palm press against my semi-hard dick and his hesitation there.
“Ah, there’s…oh,” he mumbles, and then clears his throat. “He’s clear.”
“Good. Try anything sneaky, and your blood will be joining our father’s,” Alessio tells me. He gestures the guards to the side, and then turns to lead me out of the foyer and down the center hallway.
“You make it sound like it was an inside job,” I mutter.
“We don’t betray our own.” Alessio turns his head to glare at me. We stop at a double door, the door to the library.
“Perhaps I’ll be included in that when this is done,” I tell him with a smirk.
He stares at me. “Doubtful.”
Alessio opens one side of the door, it pushes inward. “Carmine, you have a visitor.”
“Tell them to fuck off,” Carmine snaps. I can tell that he’s across the room, a bit of distance between him and the doorway. His voice laced with intoxication, but not slurring.
Alessio glances at me as if to say told you.
“I need to speak to you, Carmine,” I call out.
“Who is this?” he asks, and I hear footsteps grow closer until the other side of the door pulls open. His dark eyes, some hazy mix of green and brown, pierce right through me.
“Soren Fiorelli…seriously? You would really show your face around here?” Carmine asks as he recognizes me. We haven’t interacted much, but it’s important to know the face and name of a rival’s closest kin.
“I could show you a lot more, but not with your brother here.” I grin and glance over at Alessio for a second, before meeting Carmine’s eyes again.
Alessio blinks, as though he’s debating whether or not I’m serious.
“I can make him leave,” Alessio replies.
Carmine huffs. “Let him in. If I don’t hear him out, I’ll never stop hearing about it.” He takes a step back to let me in.
I step into the library; the large room occupied primarily by ceiling-to-floor bookcases that are filled to the brim with literature old and new.
Only one wall has windows, the back wall.
Tall square windows with heavy blue curtains that drape down and against the leather cushions of the window seats beneath them.
One of those window seats has a bottle of what appears to be scotch on it, and a book placed down open against its pages.
“I’ll have four guards posted outside the door. Do you want one inside?” Alessio asks.
Carmine shakes his head. “No. I can handle myself….Go.” His final word is spat out at his brother in annoyance.
Both doors close behind me and I look to Carmine in the low lighting that hangs above our heads.
“Bit dark in here, is there a dimmer switch or something?” I ask him, not breaking his eye contact.
“Just fucking get to it.” He walks over to the window seat and picks up his bottle. I expect him to offer me some, but instead he opens the bottle and takes a swig.
I roll my eyes and step closer. “Fine, fine, forgive a guy for wanting a little foreplay,” I motion with my hands to the sides.
Carmine stares at me as he swallows. He’s still shirtless, and I can see the exhaustion and strain in the muscles all along his lean body.
“You need our help,” I say point blank. “You need more guys on your side, we got guys to give.”
I stay standing as he sits. I watch his tongue dart across his lips.
“Oh really? Ha… I should’ve known you’d be here trying to take advantage of this shit,” he tells me. His eyes are so dark with anger and pain that my own chest squeezes. I look back at him, stone faced, my smile gone, and my eyes betraying nothing going on in my head. Not like his.
“Your Don was killed last night, not mine. Wouldn’t have happened if you had enough protection. If you had the right guys for the job.” I step closer. Not interested in messing around with him.
Carmine takes another drink. “You think your guys are right for the job?” he asks.
“That they could’ve stopped it? I think you Fiorelli’s had something to do with it.
How do I know that you’re not here to finish the job?
Finish off the top Dresvanni’s.” He stands and waves the bottle around, his voice louder.
The gravel in his voice makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Get it the fuck together, Carmine,” I growl back at him. I step closer and yank the bottle from his hand. I’m taller, broader, and in his drunken state, stronger than him. “If I was here to kill you, you’d already be dead, you fucking idiot.”
“You shut your fucking mouth; you’re in my house. You listen to me, you answer my questions,” he squares up to me, breath smelling so strongly of booze but something else too, musky and masculine.
“Nah, you listen to me,” I shove him with my free hand.
He stumbles back a step and his back thuds against the wall next to the window seats.
“You might not wanna admit it, but you need our help. You need our protection. You don’t have enough competent guards after half of them were killed during the firefight in Rome last Spring.
The new ones can barely wipe their own ass, much less protect you, or any of your brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles, their children from getting caught in whatever fight someone has started with you. ”
Carmine stares at me, and his jaw shifts and tightens. It’s silent for a long moment.
“What’s in it for you?” he asks. “I know you’re not doing this out of the goodness of your heart. As a Christmas gift.”
I finally smirk, a faint and crooked smirk. “Access to your club.”
He scoffs. “Of course. Your uncle won’t agree to give us access to your domain but he wants to prance around in ours. Let me guess, he wants to sell there?”
I shrug. “Maybe. Our protection, your club, some merchandise and money passes hands now and then. Seems like a fair trade to me.”
“How do I know this isn’t all a trap?” Carmine asks me as he pushes off the wall and steps closer.
I eye him from head to toe, and step even closer. “You don’t.” I push the glass bottle against his bare chest, and my fingers brush his skin. It’s hot against the tips of my fingers. Still cold from outside.
Carmine’s breath mingles with mine, and I feel myself grow harder. I brush it off. Some stupid physical reaction, doesn’t matter.
“Can you really risk not making the deal?” I ask him in return. I stare into his eyes, chin tilted down to keep our gazes locked.
Carmine takes the bottle from me, and grabs me by the front of my shirt with his other hand. “Have your men here by sunrise, no weapons. We’ll arm them. If any of them have a gun, knife, pick, or so much as a fucking nail file, I’ll shoot their fucking heads off.” He lets me go.
“You approve access to the club for these names…and you have a deal.” I pull a folded piece of paper out of the inside pocket of my jacket and hand it to him.
He doesn’t even look at it.
“Fine. Get out,” he steps backward.
I adjust my jacket and turn to exit the library.
“By sunrise for you too, Carmine.”