Remy

35. Remy

REMY

Ollie chuckles,the cadence spiritless.

I hope it’s not the last sound I hear from her.

“Be safe,” she whispers. “I’ll be waiting.”

I place a kiss to her hairline and force myself to stride for the door, not looking back as I walk outside.

Salvo waits against the railing of her porch, arms crossed over his chest, brows raised and mocking.

I don’t say a word. I keep my animosity locked tight and stalk for the Escalade.

He follows, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Where the fuck is your car?” I growl.

“I was dropped here. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. And the hag next door is nosey as fuck.”

I shoot a glance toward the neighbor’s house, my gaze colliding with Lesley’s as she stares at me through her front window.

Inquisitive old bat.

“Head to my townhouse,” Salvo instructs.

I reverse out of Ollie’s drive, stopping short of squealing the tires as I take off down the road.

We’re a few blocks into the trip when he opens his mouth again. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

I keep my focus on upcoming traffic, knowing transparency won’t work in my favor. He won’t understand. He’s never loved anyone other than our mother. Not our dad. Not high school sweethearts. He’s always been a cold, heartless bastard like that.

“Why would you go against Lorenzo?” His tone becomes subdued, no longer edged with ego. “Why willingly give yourself a weakness?”

I lock my jaw and pretend I don’t hear the concern in his voice.

“I thought we had a good thing here,” he says. “We have freedom, and money, and fucking power. We’ve never had any of that before. And you’re out here risking it all, for what?”

For her.

For Ollie.

For a relationship that may undermine all those things Salvo boasts about, but somehow gives me so much more.

“I didn’t exactly plan for any of this,” I mutter.

“I fucking hope not, otherwise you’re dumber than the dumbass I already thought you were.”

“Fuck you, Salvo.”

“Fuck you, too, you deadass dumb shit. I can’t believe I spent my Sunday morning in your mistress’s fucking house, waiting for you to return home from some tawdry weekend love fest. What a goddamn joke.”

“It wasn’t a tawdry love fest, you Gucci-wearing, frappe-drinking, mother-loving asshole.”

He scowls at me with a raised brow. “You’re seriously throwing drink choices at me while you fuck up all our lives?”

“This has nothing to do with you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t. I’ve covered for you. I’ve lied for you. To fucking Lorenzo—who happens to be the only good fortune we’ve had our whole godforsaken lives. And here you are, pissing it away because of a pretty face and a mediocre set of tits.”

“Speak about her like that one more time and I’ll—” I clench my teeth, cutting off the threat.

“Seriously?” He glares at me. “That’s how it is now? You threatening me? You pointing a goddamn gun in my face because of a woman?”

My forearms throb from my tight grip around the steering wheel.

He scoffs. “You’re all I’ve got left, you self-centered motherfucker.”

“Oh, fuck off, Salvo. Like you give a shit.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?” He deadpans. “Dad’s dead. Mom’s imprisoned. And Matthew and Abri are in Washington, living their best lives. I thought we were in this together.”

Guilt chips away at my anger. I don’t fucking appreciate that he’s making sense for the first time in his life.

“Like I said,” I mutter, “I didn’t plan for this to happen.”

“It must be serious. She wears your ring.”

“It’s as serious as it gets as far as I’m concerned.”

He drags in a long breath, then lets it out on a sigh. “You do realize she can throw us under the bus.”

“So can Valenti or Russo, along with any of your men or Lorenzo’s. What’s the difference between her and them?”

“For a start, you’re not sticking your dick in Valenti and growing attached.” He narrows his eyes on me. “Or are you?”

My nostrils flare as I take the next turn harder than necessary.

“They’re disposable,” he grates. “That’s the fucking difference. If they mess up, they’re gone. Poof. Vanished. How the hell are you going to act if she does something wrong and we’re forced to silence her?”

“She won’t,” I bite out.

“Says your dick. Maybe let your other brain function for a little while.”

“Both brains are fully functioning and equally enthusiastic to fuck your shit up right now,” I snarl.

“That’s disturbing. Maybe, in future, don’t reference your dick brain and fucking me up in the same sentence.”

“I hate you, Salvo.”

“I love you, too, brother.” He messes with the buttons on my dash, turning on the radio.

We remain quiet for the next fifteen minutes, the low hum of music echoing from the speakers.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m meant to do or if I should’ve left Ollie unsupervised. I don’t know a damn thing apart from how messed up I’ll be if something happens to her. And the farther I drive, the faster my thoughts race in panic.

“So what’s our plan?” Salvo asks once we’re a few blocks from his townhouse.

“Our plan?”

“Yes, our plan. Why else do you think I’m here?”

“I dunno, maybe to rub my face in my mistakes, because that’s what it feels like.” I force my gaze out my side window, trying and failing to lessen my annoyance. “Do you have any suggestions?”

He falls quiet for a moment, the silent contemplation making me uncomfortable. He usually acts as if he knows everything. Without pause or need for reflection.

“I’m honestly fresh out of ideas,” he mutters. “Lorenzo is hard to read sometimes. Matthew thinks the sun shines out of the old man’s ass, but I’m yet to see the glow.”

I grunt, despising the visual.

“I’ve got your back, though.” He unclasps his belt as I pull up to his drive. “Whatever your dumb ass needs, I’ll help fight for.”

“Thanks, asshole.”

“You’re welcome, Casanova.”

He pulls out his phone, using an app to open the head-high metal gate leading into his courtyard. I park beside Lorenzo’s Rolls-Royce.

It’s Matthew’s black BMW that raises my hackles.

“Our brother is here?” I cut the engine, my pulse increasing with foreboding.

“Yeah.” Salvo opens his door. “I didn’t know he was in town until Lorenzo gave the order to find you.”

Matthew must have ratted on me.

Fucking snake.

I shove from the car and stalk to the house, passing Lorenzo’s guard to let myself into Salvatore’s foyer.

I hear them talking—my backstabbing brother and our controlling uncle— the murmured words trailing from the far end of the house.

I can’t fucking believe this.

My relationship with Matthew may have been distant over the years, but I thought we were closing the gap. Instead, he decided to throw me under the bus to climb farther up Lorenzo’s ass.

I storm down the hall, clenching my fists, wishing I still had my gun as Salvo enters the house.

“Take your shoes off,” Salvo yells. “I just had the tile polished, you fucking Neanderthal.”

I keep storming, keep raging, keep trying to hold my fucking temper but at this point, there’s no escaping the detonation.

I walk into Salvatore’s library, finding Matthew seated on one of the caramel leather sofas, an ankle kicked over his opposite knee, his arm lazily stretched against the shoulder-high back rest while our uncle stands in front of the bay windows facing the view of Inner Harbor.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snarl, charging forward.

Matthew’s gaze cuts to me, his expression mildly curious instead of guilt-ridden. “Good morning, brother. It’s a fine day we’re hav?—”

“Fuck you.” I stop in front of him, kicking his planted shoe to send his resting foot falling to the floor. “Get up.”

He eyes me with tired disinterest. “I suggest you take a seat and bite your tongue.”

Like fuck. “You think I won’t hit you while you’re seated?”

“I think you’re letting emotion get the better of you. Unnecessarily.” A sneer enters his tone. “So, like I said, take a fucking seat, and bite your goddamn tongue.”

There’s no way I’m doing either. Instead, I keep glaring at him as Salvatore enters the room.

“What did I miss?” he asks.

“Nothing, figlio.” Lorenzo turns to face us, his fatherly gaze resting on me. “Take a seat. We have a lot to discuss.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll stand.”

He sighs, plodding forward with the aid of his walking stick. “Of all Emmanuel’s sons, I have to admit, I didn’t think you would be the most defiant.”

“Well, hold onto your fucking pants, Grandpa. You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Remy,” Matthew warns. “Know your place.”

“Do you know yours? Because it sure as shit isn’t at my side where a brother should be.”

“Enough.” Lorenzo continues forward to claim the leather armchair seated between the two sofas that face each other. “I called a family meeting because we have a problem.”

I scoff. “She’s?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Matthew growls. “I won’t tell you again.”

My nostrils flare, the vehemence pumping so hard through me that I can barely see straight.

“You called a family meeting because…?” Salvatore takes a seat opposite Matthew.

Lorenzo doesn’t take his gaze off me. “I’ve learned that the cartel have increased their efforts to protect themselves.”

I scowl, confused.

“They have a hit out on Remy. It’s barely enough to claim the interest of any serious threats, but there will be small fish who seek to claim the money, without thought of our family’s wrath.”

“My bad…” Salvatore shoots me an apologetic grimace. “I thought this meeting was about something else.”

“Hmm?” Lorenzo raises a brow.

“It’s nothing.” Salvo waves him away. “I just thought when you asked for someone to look for him this morning that he’d fucked up like usual. But alas, my baby brother’s notoriety has stolen center stage.”

I glower at him, sending a silent warning to shut his goddamn mouth.

If this isn’t about Ollie, I still have time to strategize.

“Given the increased threat, I’ll stay in town.” Matthew relaxes into his seat, kicking his foot back onto his knee. “I’ll call Bishop. We can wipe the slate clean with the cartel if need be.”

“No.” Lorenzo gives a dismissive shake of his head. “Although remaining in Baltimore temporarily is why I asked you here, more violence is not the answer I’m looking for. I’ve already spoken to Gabriel Rodriguez. He’s the new appointed head of the cartel’s operations since we had his brother killed. He’s a mean son of a bitch, but thankfully, he’s smarter than Javier was.”

“And why are we thankful for that?” Matthew asks.

“Because he listened to my warning not to escalate our conflict and agreed to return to the cartel’s regular business dealings instead of trying to undermine ours.”

Salvo raises a skeptical brow. “So the hit is no longer in play?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Matthew interjects. “Even if the hit has been retracted, it’ll take a while for news to spread. Especially to the bottom feeders who would’ve taken up the offer.”

Lorenzo nods. “Matthew is right. It would be wise for all of us to take extra precautions until further notice. Even though I’ve told our own messengers to spread the word, these things take time.”

My brothers seem appeased while I remain skeptical that this is the only reason we’re all here.

“You don’t seem surprised, figlio.” Lorenzo cocks his head, scrutinizing me. “Were you already aware of the increased threat?”

I shrug. “There may have been a hint or two.”

“Mmm.” He nods thoughtfully.

It’s so aggravatingly fake. He definitely knows about Ollie. He’s fucking with me.

The three of them chat strategy and precautions while I remain standing, quietly simmering in animosity until Salvo rises to his feet.

“I need a coffee,” he declares as if everyone should give a shit.

“Good idea.” Lorenzo looks between my brothers. “Why don’t you two go for a drive and get us all something to eat and drink?”

“I’ll order it online and have it delivered.” Matthew pulls out his cell.

“I’m afraid I insist.” Lorenzo juts his chin toward the hall. “Remy and I have private matters to discuss.”

All eyes turn to me, my brothers with barely hidden apprehension, Lorenzo with no emotion at all.

“Why don’t we both just hang out in the kitchen while you two talk?” Salvo suggests. “I’ve got that fancy-ass coffee machine, and the housekeeper always has snacks in?—”

“I won’t ask again.” Lorenzo’s tone hardens.

Matthew turns his attention to our uncle, the two of them engaging in an impassive stare-off.

“Fine.” Matthew pushes to his feet. “We won’t be long.”

“You won’t return until instructed,” Lorenzo corrects.

Matthew’s fingers twitch at his sides, then he turns to maneuver around the sofa, clapping me on the shoulder as he passes. “Don’t torch a bridge before it needs to be burned,” he murmurs. “Whatever happens, we’ll work it out.”

He continues from the room as Salvatore stands.

“What’s this about?” Salvo asks.

“It’s not your concern just yet, figlio. Go on.” Lorenzo jerks his chin toward the hall again. “I’ll have someone call you when we’re ready for your return.”

My brother pauses, the hesitance more clear in his hardened expression than in his lack of movement.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I can handle this.”

“You sure?”

“He’s sure,” Lorenzo answers for me.

Salvatore’s jaw tightens, but he casually strolls from the room, his footsteps retreating down the hall along with Matthew’s until the front door closes, leaving me and my uncle in silence.

“Are you ready to take a seat?” Lorenzo indicates the sofa in front of him with the gentlest of hand movements.

He’s always so sickeningly serene.

In the year we’ve worked together I’ve never seen him lose his shit. He’s given kill orders while holding that caring, fatherly smile. He’s learned of the murder of people in his organization and taken the news without a flinch.

He’s emotionless.

Possibly heartless.

I lean my ass against the far armrest. “I’m good here.”

He sighs. “Okay, let’s get this over and done with.”

My pulse beats harder in my throat.

“You left town for the weekend.” He cocks his head, eyeing me intently.

“Yes,” I answer through clenched teeth.

“You weren’t alone.” He continues with the cool, calm voice beneath the cool, calm exterior, and it fucking drives me insane.

“You can quit the lead up to the dramatic reveal.” I shove back to my feet, no longer capable of remaining seated. “I assume you’re well informed. Was it Matthew who snitched on me?”

“No snitch was necessary, figlio. Sometimes a hunch is enough.” One side of his mouth kicks upward in subtle charm that doesn’t hit its mark. “But I’m surprised he didn’t warn you that nothing gets past me. I pride myself on caring for my nearest and dearest. I do whatever it takes to keep them safe.”

“You do whatever it takes to assert control.” I glower. “And I get it. You need a certain level of transparency in this line of work. But I’m done being handled by family members who claim to be doing their best by me when their interests are far from altruistic.”

His smile fades, but the calm remains.

He doesn’t speak, only sits there staring, lazily scrutinizing.

It fucking irks me. Being away from Ollie while she’s susceptible irks me even more.

I clench my hands into fists and fight to keep my breathing level. “Look, Lorenzo, despite us working together since my father died, we’re not all that familiar with one another. You spend most of your time with Salvatore while I do your dirty work, so I’m going to do you a solid and give you some free insight into the man I am.”

He continues to stare with undaunted interest.

“The funeral home is my project.” I raise a hand to stab a finger at my chest. “My brother may have negotiated terms, but I set up the working arrangements, I learned the funeral business, I’ve handled every part of this venture for almost a year now. And I did it fucking well despite the curve balls that were thrown.”

He remains quiet, contemplative.

The hair on the back of my neck rises. I’m going to fucking lose it.

“I don’t like being micromanaged,” I snarl. “I don’t like being followed or watched or whatever the fuck you’ve been doing to get insight on my whereabouts. And I certainly don’t like my personal activities examined.”

He steeples his hands in his lap. “Are you finished?”

Barely.

“Ollie is not to be touched.” My tone spits venom. “She isn’t to be threatened. Or antagonized. Or fucking intimidated. Not by you, your men, or my fucking brothers. I will die on that hill and take down anyone who dares to defy me.”

He raises a brow.

“If anything happens to her,” I sneer. “If someone so much as looks in her direction without my approval, I’ll make what I’ve done to the cartel look fucking dull in comparison.”

I wait a beat, expecting him to reply.

He doesn’t.

My uncle just sits there, serene, relaxed, maybe even entertained, his gentle smile returning. “Now are you done, figlio?”

Fuck. Him.

This sadistic motherfucker gives no shits. Not about me. Not about Ollie.

He’s a fucking psychopath.

He drags in a deep breath and spreads his legs out before him, crossing them at the ankles. “Can I tell you something I’ve learned along the years?”

“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.”

“I guess it is.” He chuckles. “What I’ve learned is that the older you get, the more your vision fails. But the funny thing is, despite the limiting eyesight, you end up seeing more than you already had.”

What in the Dr. fucking Zeus is this shit?

“I understand Olivia is important to you, Remy. I had an inkling from the first night Salvatore met with Carlo. Not that it was hard to determine. You both reported back—your brother with smug superiority over securing the retort deal, and you with your far-off stare and distracted thoughts as you muttered about a woman who brought complications.”

“And?”

“And I knew she would become a problem?—”

“She’s not a fucking problem.”

“Figlio, I allowed you your time to talk.” His eyes harden. “Now you will grant me the same respect as I have mine.”

I clench my teeth, my blood rampant in my veins.

“I knew she would become a problem,” he repeats, “for you to protect.”

I stiffen.

“Do you know why my sons don’t work in the family business?” he asks.

I barely know anything about his sons—my cousins. “No.” Apart from their names and a rough estimation of their ages, I don’t have the faintest idea about the three brothers.

“Their mother was taken from them when they were young. She was a beautiful woman. Much like your Ollie. But blonde and blue-eyed. A gorgeous anomaly in our Italian ethnicity.”

“And?” I pace out the steps to the next sofa, unable to remain still.

He gives me a sad smile. “And she was tortured horrifically. Her fingers removed one by one. Followed by her teeth. Then those beautiful eyes. Until finally she was sliced open from throat to groin and left to die.”

My stomach roils, not only at the image, but at the thought of a similar fate happening to Ollie.

“She was the love of my life,” he states simply. “The mother of my children and the keeper of my heart. But I couldn’t protect her from my enemies.” He fiddles with the curved handle of his walking stick in an uncharacteristic sign of vulnerability. “I refused to fail in the same way with my sons. No matter how much I wanted to keep them close, I made the decision to send them home to the motherland.”

I grow impatient, the trip down history lane only increasing my agitation.

“I changed their names and gave them new lives.” He holds my stare. “We may have kept in touch and I travelled to see them often, but I didn’t allow them to return to the States until after they were twenty-one and had a full understanding of what they would be returning to.”

He breaks eye contact to stare at his walking stick. “I’d planned for them to take over my legacy. To learn the ropes and become accustomed to the organization, but once they were back under my supervision, I admit I feared too much for their safety to allow them anywhere near the family business. I am weak in that regard. Not even Matthew knows the truth.” He raises his eyes to mine. “Your brother is one of my most trusted confidants and I made him believe my sons were too selfish to consider taking over for my retirement when the truth is I shunned them for their own safety.”

I scrub a hand over my mouth, my rings scratching flesh. “What’s this got to do with me and Ollie?”

“I harbor guilt, figlio. In protecting my children, I’ve forsaken my nephews and sent you down a path far too similar to my own.” He drags in a weary breath. “From the moment you brought Olivia into my penthouse I understood she could be for you what my wife once was for me, and that filled me with fear. I didn’t want you repeating my mistakes. So I thought it best to keep you apart.”

My nostrils flare.

“I tried to scare her away that day, but it only seemed to forge your bond. Which is why I instructed you two to separate yourselves.”

“You threatened to fucking kill her,” I grate.

He flashes a half-hearted smile. “I merely alluded. And yet the way you stood up to me in the name of protecting her was enviable. I wish I would’ve been that possessive with my wife when she was alive.”

“Where the hell is this going, Lorenzo?”

He sighs. “Nowhere, figlio. It never was.”

“I’m going to need you to be a little more clear than that because I don’t fucking follow.”

“What I’m saying is that my request for you two to remain apart was merely due to my own trauma. Yes, there are issues that may arise if she makes a costly mistake, but you were already smart enough to understand that. My actions were a safety measure for her as much as for your heart. But I see now that there’s no separating the two of you, so I’m here to grant you my blessing.”

I stare. Numb with shock. “Are you fucking with me? This was all a hoax?”

“Not a hoax. A learned experience without the heartache.”

I scrutinize him. I stare so fucking hard, trying to read him, that my temples throb. “You’re serious… You made me think you would order her death if I so much as touched her.”

“Mmm.” He nods. “Which was problematic in itself. And probably a subconscious act of rebellion to my own actions, because historically, what does one usually do when told not to do something?”

What the absolute fuck?

“I wanted to ensure you didn’t make a decision you would regret later,” he continues. “But it’s obvious now you’ve made your choice.”

“There was no choice.” I raise my voice. “I tried walking away. Numerous times. I would’ve fucking ignored her existence if any part of me felt that was even slightly possible. But she’s always there—in my fucking head, her voice in my ears, her scent in my godforsaken lungs. She’s just—” I cut myself off, not wanting to admit I’m out of control because of this woman.

Lorenzo’s smile is forlorn. “She’s your heart’s choice. Logic doesn’t have any say in it.”

I gape. I can’t fucking help it.

I’d thought he was psychotic. Reality is, he’s a lovesick romantic.

“Does she feel the same about you?” he asks.

“Yes.” I nod. “I wish she didn’t but she does.”

“And will she continue to feel the same once the full terms of the current agreement come to completion?”

A knife twists into my stomach, the pain unignorable. “I don’t know.”

His expression softens. “Her father’s death will be hard.”

I raise my chin, taking the reminder head-on. “It will.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He grabs his walking stick and pushes to his feet. “And now I’ll leave you to curse my actions in private.”

“Wait. Did you pull this shit with Matthew and Bishop? Why didn’t I hear about them having to endure your meddling?”

He hobbles around the closest sofa toward the hall. “Because they have spent more than a decade in the lifestyle. They entered their relationships knowing the risks. You’re still green, my boy.”

And I’ve never felt the color more adamantly than I do now.

“But please take my warnings to heart.” Lorenzo pauses in the doorway. “You need to keep your distance from her until news of the rescinded hit has spread. It doesn’t need to be too long. But the next few days are imperative.”

I nod, the sweetest adrenaline flooding my veins. “I will.”

And then it’s going to be a free-for-all.