Chapter 4
Luca
“WHAT THE FUCK is that?” Damian snagged a champagne flute from a passing waiter, the contents downed in less than thirty seconds.
“Paté. Duck liver or some shit,” I said while scanning the room. The capo invited a capacity crowd to witness the initiation. Men, women, suits, and silk, along with a few dirty feds. They were easy to spot, always needing a good tailor and an even better barber.
“Gesù Cristo.”
Damian’s curse returned my gaze to him. “Don’t get used to the food or the drinks. Next time we’re in this room, you’ll be the hired help with a gun in your hand. A protector of the elitist.”
He grunted, taking a second glass to wash the remnants of wealth from his mouth.
Just because it was expensive didn’t make it good.
But a night like tonight was a free pass to indulge.
Eat. Consume in excess. Satiate desires.
Sin—because for these God-fearing Italian Catholics, the morning brought church and the confessional.
A place to free their souls from debauchery.
Too bad I was an atheist with a questionable origin.
“Bennett Michaels, nine o’clock,” Damian said, patting his chest, then his back pocket. When he came up empty handed, he scrubbed his face. “I keep forgetting I quit yesterday.”
But I wasn’t concerned about Damian’s nicotine withdrawals.
As much as he fidgeted, his mind was focused on intel, which he spewed like an encyclopedia of facts.
“Fifty-one. Married. Got a kid from another woman no one mentions. Been on the Cabello payroll since before we were born. He’s a silent but dominant partner. ”
“And his endgame?” I asked while the U.S. Senator slipped through a door on the far side of the room.
“The White House, and Vigo Cabello is funding the campaign through hidden channels.”
“Lofty goals.”
“And a big secret to protect. No one breathes a word about their friendship outside of these walls. Or…”
“Right.” I rubbed my temple, easing the headache forming behind it. The unyielding power the mafia would have with a pawn in that position was unthinkable. “That’s why the king needs our talent.”
Damian popped a less vile hors d’oeuvre into his mouth. “Not bad.” He shrugged, grabbing another from the ever-present waitstaff. I looked beyond him to security mingling and managing the perimeter. It was a smart structure.
Blood red velvet flags hung from the rafters.
Intricate gold stitching called out the house of Cabello emblem: a cross, and a crown with grand flourishes of flame holding it above the capo’s initials.
The place was crowded with his relatives and pillars of the community.
Affluence was thick and heavy in the air.
The peasants were recruits, minutes away from becoming mob soldiers. We were distinguishable by the same uniform, black on black. Death among the dead. I didn’t stand out from the others, but for a scar and my reputation from the side job we completed for the capo.
But there was another reason I was here, and it had more to do with my history than anyone would guess. Even Damian.
Suddenly, the flock shifted, and so did my attention. A woman paraded through the crowd, exposing an obscene amount of skin in an almost translucent dress. The glint of steely eyes placed her as a member of la famiglia, and she was headed directly toward me.
“What do you want to do?” Dami asked.
I glanced at the guy built like a brick house who craned his neck to watch this interaction. The Cabello underboss and this girl’s father had a vested interest. I almost laughed at the absurdity. Good Italian girls got married, and this one thought she’d spotted her prized stallion.
“Let it happen,” I said, as she stopped and offered me her hand.
“Sofia. Uncle Vigo’s favorite niece.”
I knew of her; there were few here who didn’t. I had a reputation as a sharpshooter. Her notoriety involved large amounts of blow and indiscretion. Last I heard, she’d spent a couple of months in rehab.
“Luca Mancini.” I motioned next to me. “And Damian Costa.”
Her eyes remained on mine during the introductions, then they dropped to my lips. She swallowed and shifted her vision to a waiter. “Champagne?” She retrieved two flutes, one suspended between us.
“I’m not drinking.” And I wasn’t sure her recent release would allow her to either, but the Cabellos had their own rules.
“Come on, it’s a party,” she chided, pushing the glass forward. “And we’re celebrating. You want to celebrate with me, don’t you?”
I stared at her offering, focusing on the sharp edge of her claw-like nails.
When I didn’t move, Damian took the crystal to end the standoff.
She didn’t acknowledge him because she wanted me—and I could have her.
I could have any woman here. That wasn’t conceit, but a proven theory based on history.
Yet my pulse remained steady, and my heart as black as the night I was born.
I wanted to fuck women, but I never had a need for one.
Anna’s belt taught me life was two sides of a coin.
Perspective was everything. As much time as I’d spent in the darkness, I’d yet to be swayed into the light.
I liked the world I’d built, and I wasn’t about to detonate a bomb and watch it explode for a woman.
Especially one that looked like the love child of Angelina Jolie and Sylvester Stallone.
“Have a nice night, Ms. Cabello.” I skirted past her shoulder.
“I could have my papà force you,” she urged to my back. “Big guy, you noticed earlier. He’s still watching. Or better yet, mio zio, who is very persuasive. Don’t make me do that. Let’s have some fun before the ceremony.”
I stopped, pivoting to face her again. “Why?”
She batted her extra-long lashes. “Why what?”
“Why would I choose you?”
Her grin faltered. “I get what I want.”
“Is that part of your addictive personality? See something, go after it. Obsess and fixate?”
If there was one thing I despised, it was manipulation, and I’d had enough of her pouty, pink mouth. I stepped into her, my nose brushing her cheek. Her fingers latched onto my bicep, squeezing as I caught another whiff of her perfume, smoky incense and amber—completely nauseating.
“You seem to be under the impression I should want to fuck you. Here’s the truth, in case no one told you before. Men look because of the spectacle. Long legs, big tits, and a pretty face. But look beneath the surface and the shiny toy is boring. I bore easily, Sofia.”
Her expression fell, and so did her hand as icy eyes caught mine. “You can’t speak to me this way.”
“Honesty makes you uncomfortable? Then let me just be clear. I won’t be forced into anything. Not by you. Not your father. Or the king himself. Don’t threaten me with your family. If I come for you, no one can protect you.” I straightened, moving back. “Now go find someone else to play with.”
A moment passed, her heaving chest chasing the silence. If she had carried a weapon, my right cheek would’ve matched the scar on my left. I didn’t think she’d chance maiming me in front of our audience, but you never could tell with a privileged bitch.
“One day, you’ll regret denying me.”
“I look forward to the fight.”
She huffed and spun on her heel.
“Making friends?”
The deep voice came from the opposite direction of Sofia’s escape.
Dante Cabello stepped in, bringing us shoulder-to-shoulder.
The second son to the boss was better known as a Manhattan socialite.
The Kardashian version of the mafia. If Vigo didn’t manage his image, Dante would have his own reality TV show in a year or two.
Married to the Mob, or some stupid shit like that.
I jerked my chin in his cousin’s direction. Sofia had found another soldier to bother, though she’d flipped her hair over her shoulder to glare at me twice in as many minutes. “An enemy is more like it.”
His brow rose, as did his tumbler to his lips. He hissed through the bite of whiskey as it went down his throat. “Willful, that one.”
“Destructive.”
He scoffed while studying the amber swirl of his drink before taking another swallow. “She doesn’t often hear the word no.”
“Shame. She could use it, and a hand to her backside every now and again.”
“You offering?”
“Never. Entitled is not my type.”
From the corner of his eye, he studied me, angles carving into his cheek and jaw as they clenched. “Even if she’s rich and beautiful?”
“Especially if she’s rich and beautiful. There’s something to be said for a woman who has to fight for what she wants. Builds character. Creates depth.”
“Right.” His eye twitched, the pads of his fingers going white on his tumbler. “Just a word of advice—stay away from my sister, Vivienne. The capo demands it as part of your fealty to the crown. Touch her, and I’ll break more than your fingers.”
I smirked, not hiding my amusement. “Did you give the same warning to all the recruits?”
“Does it matter? I’ve given it to you.”
His vision burned into mine, a threat stronger than words. Then it shifted over my shoulder, and his harsh edges softened while he moved away. I turned to understand what kind of creature tamed a beast like Dante, and I found her descending the stairs with the king of the Cosa Nostra.
Straight lines.
Silver hair.
Eyes that were so cold they bit into my skin, fire and ice. Frost.
She wasn’t beautiful, not in the traditional sense of the word.
Thin where she should have been round in the hips.
Round where there should have been angles and high cheekbones.
But her complexion was fresh and flawless, and her lips were full and lush.
And when her gaze focused on mine, hunger punched through my gut, jerking my dick to life.
Cazzo. I shook my head to free myself from whatever spell she cast, yet I couldn’t stop staring at the pink stain flushing her features.
A restless energy begged me to move, to do something, anything, but then a wave of my own awareness tightened my jaw, and I stayed still.
Her hand rose, clutching a gold chain as if it were her lifeline in the face of a killer.
And I was. I was the monster among men, and she had every right to fear me.
Vengeance. Wrath. Pride and envy. I was full of deadly sins—a ghost without true feelings.
But a spark ignited behind my ribs. Disbelief spread through my veins like venom, and I dropped my head, confident of what I would see. My heart. My cold, dark heart broke free from the cage keeping it silent for so long.
When I looked up, her eyes waited. A heavy silence fell over the room, but my pulse ricocheted in my ears. It sparked a flash of annoyance that curled my lip, and when it did, her mouth parted. I could almost hear her gasp, but it broke the suffocating tension, and I took a breath.
Then I did the only thing I could.
I disappeared.