Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
D om swung the door to Casa Cassi open, and my stomach growled as the scent of freshly baked bread, simmering tomato sauce, and the delicious aroma of garlic wafted from the kitchen.
Casa Cassi had been our go-to place after training, even before Dom opened his own gym. It had always been a place where Dom and I could unwind undisturbed.
“Vincenzo!” Carlo, the ma?tre d’, boomed from across the room. “The usual booth for you and Domenico?”
I gave him a curt nod, and Dom and I followed him through the bustling restaurant to our usual spot, a booth tucked away in a corner that offered a clear view of the entire establishment while allowing me to keep my back to the wall.
Privacy and the ability to keep an eye on the whole place—just how I like it.
As I slid into the black leather booth, Dom leaned in closer—kicking off our usual post-training ritual with a wolfish grin. “I can’t get over how damn fine your ass looks today, baby.” He let out an exaggerated whistle. “So damn sexy.”
A few heads turned in our direction, and I stared into Dom’s eyes, glimmering with mischief. Dom had been hitting on me in public since we were teenagers—in his own words, this was his contribution to changing society. And he was probably right—if you wanted to normalize something, exposure therapy was the way to go.
“I’m not shaking my ass for you again, Rossi,” I retorted, scanning the menu even though I knew my order by heart—pasta alla carbonara—every time. “I’ve told you before, you’re not my type,” I said, loud enough for the older couple sitting atthe table close to us, who looked deeply offended, to hear.
If I couldn’t accept one thing, it was small-mindedness and people thinking they needed to force their beliefs and values on others—which was kind of hilarious given my family background, the culture I grew up in, and the reputation I had.
Dom clutched his chest in mock offense. “You wound me! And here I thought you would finally fall for my rugged cuteness and my amazing charms.”
I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “Keep it in your pants, Dom, at least in public.”
He sighed dramatically as if he was serious about it all.
Well, he was serious—at least, partially. It still baffled me why he was still pursuing me, even after all these years. We’d had our fair share of threesomes, and I knew for a fact that Dom was open for anything. I was just happy we’d managed to maintain our friendship…despite his attraction.
Our usual playful banter ensued as we scanned the menus even though we always ordered the same thing anyway—the carbonara for me, gnocchi for Dom, followed by steak and salad.
This back-and-forth, this easy camaraderie with Dom…it was one of the few bright spots in my life lately. With Dom, there were no expectations or judgments. I could let my guard down—be myself without repercussions. He knew all my secrets and accepted me for who I was—flaws and all, whether he was hitting on me or pushing me physically until I opened up. It always came from a place of deep affection between two soul mates.
The clatter of dishes and chatter around us faded into background noise as Dom dove into his stories about his most recent escapades and a wild story about how he barely managed to escape a stampede of a group of high-heeled drag queens when the fire alarm went off in one of the clubs he visited.
I caught myself laughing throughout our conversation. This is what Dom’s charm really was. Taking my thoughts off of reality and lifting the weight off my shoulders, if only for a little while.
The business, my family’s legacy, my father’s bullshit, and the ongoing hack—it all could wait. For now, I had Dom, his funny stories, his teasing remarks, and a plate of the best carbonara in town.
That was enough.
“How would you even know if somebody truly loves you?” I asked out of the blue. I didn’t even know where the question came from. Was it triggered by the comment Donnelly made about arranged marriages sometimes leading to true love, which somehow stuck with me? Because true love had nothing to do with Dom’s story about his latest conquest.
I waited for Dom to answer. I was seriously curious about his definition.
Dom stared at me, equally dumbfounded, then cocked his head as if he had to think about it. “True love is when there’s a fire alarm, and instead of just thinking about themselves, they grab your hand and pull you along with them.”
Hm. “Easy enough.”
Dom nodded. “Love should be easy.”
I raised a single eyebrow at him. I’d never witnessed such an “easy” love, so I very much doubted love could ever be easy or straightforward.
My phone vibrated in my pocket with an incoming message. Instinctively, I glanced around the restaurant, my guard always up before I pulled it out, and focused on the screen.
I hissed when I saw I had two missed messages—status updates on Jemma Donnelly. I opened the app and clicked on the first encrypted message with Jemma’s location—a café on the same street as Dom’s gym. My stomach tightened. Now, if that wasn’t a coincidence. She’d been close enough I could’ve caught a glimpse of her if I’d checked the message earlier.
Wait, why exactly did that thought excite me?
Attached were a few photos, shot from the outside, of her sitting at a table next to Alex’s wife. She was wearing a black tee and her signature baseball cap.
So far, nothing out of the ordinary.
I opened the last message and furrowed my brow as I zoomed into the first photo.
It was Jemma, slipping out of the café alone, clutching her bag in a half-crouched position. The next one showed her farther down the street with her back to a building staring intently down the street. Was she following someone?
My heart sped up.
What the hell was the punk doing now?
My gaze snapped up as soon as I looked at the last picture—of her entering this very restaurant.
I scanned the space with renewed intensity. There, at the far corner of the bar, partly hidden behind a plant, sat a familiar figure, with a very familiar baseball cap.
She wasn’t looking up right now. But even so. There was no mistaking it was her.
I looked toward the kitchen and studied her from the corner of my eye.
What the hell was she doing here?
“What’s wrong?” Dom asked, and I forced my focus from her and back to him.
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right.” Dom rolled his eyes in an overdramatic way.
“There’s just… Never mind,” I said and shook my head. I needed to clear the mess in my mind before I could even explain what was going on. I leaned back and crossed my arms. Jemma Donnelly was here, in the same restaurant as me, alone, after leaving her cousin in an overly hasty manner, following someone.
Following me.
The realization hit me like a sledgehammer to the gut. I tapped my foot and ground my teeth. She’d been tailing me? Tracking my movements just as obsessively as I’ve been monitoring hers? What the fuck? And who the fuck did she think she was?
Was she really planning on making good on her threats of killing me?
Ridiculous.
Or was she just watching me from the shadows like some twisted game of cat and mouse?
Like me.
A twisted sense of intrigue swelled within me and replaced the annoyance that had swept through me just moments ago.
The little punk had bigger balls than I’d given her credit for, sneaking around and spying on one of the most dangerous members of New York’s most powerful crime family.
I chuckled, and Dom stared at me as if I’d grown a second head.
What was her intention in following me? I narrowed my eyes.
Part of me wanted to march over there, swat that ridiculous baseball cap off her head, grab her neck, and put an end to her foolishness once and for all.
But another part of me…a darker, more primal part was actually intrigued. Why was she following me? To spy on me? To find something she could use against me?
Because I didn’t believe she had enough guts or motivation to follow through with her threats. But if she really wanted to kill me, she would’ve tried already. So, what was her plan? And how far would she go?
The thrill of the hunt always excited me: strategically putting everything in place, seeing how your opponent reacted, setting up traps, and then letting them fall into them.
That was my kind of game.
“Vince?” Dom said.
But there was no way Jemma Donnelly was a worthy opponent. Did she have a death wish? Or was she simply that reckless, that bold? That punk was playing with fire.
The questions swirled through my mind as my eyes locked with Dom’s. “What?”
“You look positively diabolical. What the hell are you thinking about?” Dom said and wrinkled his forehead.
I held his gaze, thinking through my options. I could get up, confront her, or I could…a thought popped into my mind, and tension built inside my body, a sense of pressure and urgency like a tightly coiled spring waiting to unleash its power, paired with a sense of anticipation and excitement. My lips quirked ever so slightly. “Nothing.”
If she wanted to play…I was more than willing to indulge her. Two could tango in this dance of power. And something told me she had no idea just how dangerous what she was doing could get.
I grabbed my phone and quickly typed out a message to Michele, ordering him to prepare to take Jemma the moment she left the restaurant. A sly grin tugged at my lips as I hit send and pocketed the device. The prospect of having that defiant punk under my control, of teaching her a lesson, sent a thrill coursing through my veins.
I forced my focus back on Dom, who was looking at me as if he was watching a science experiment, but my mind raced with possibilities. What would I do once I had her? Interrogate her about the hacking? Confront her about her trailing me?
Or should I just scare her straight?
Well, maybe I could do all of it. And have fun doing so.
“You’re awfully quiet over there,” Dom said, eyeing me curiously. “What’s going on in that head of yours? And what kind of devilish plans did you just hatch?”
I leaned back and feigned nonchalance while keeping one eye on the girl by the bar. Michele needed some time to get everything in place, so I needed to pass some time. “Just thinking about your gym and the competition. You said you need help getting the word out, right?”
Dom nodded. “You endorsing my gym would’ve definitely drawn attention.”
I focused back on Dom. “So, business is slow?” It hadn’t been long since Dom opened. And from the few exchanges we’d had over the past couple of weeks, it sounded like he was having a tough time financially.
Dom wasn’t like me. His family hadn’t been rich or powerful. He’d been the charity case at our school. Others had looked down on him because of that. Had looked at me sideways for being friends. Not that I ever cared what anyone thought of me.
Dom sighed. “It’s hard to get the word out.” He shrugged and played with the salt-and-pepper set.
“Do you need an investor?”
Dom scrutinized me for a moment before he gave me a knowing grin. “You know our friendship’s important to me.”
I nodded. I knew. I also knew Dom would never ask for money. “If our friendship weren’t important to you, I would need to think you pursue me solely for my sexy body,” I said.
Dom grinned. “Well, those two are not mutually exclusive.”
I raised a single eyebrow and waited, flirting and joking aside; if he was pressed for money, I needed to know. “Tell me.”
Dom sighed. “You’re my oldest friend, Vince. And you know I don’t want money in the equation.”
A small smile tugged at my lips. That had been his stance for as long as I could remember, and his unwavering principles were one of the reasons he was my closest friend. In a world where everyone had an angle, an ulterior motive, he remained steadfastly loyal to me and true to himself.
“I know,” I said, holding his gaze. “And I respect that. But?—”
He leaned forward and got right into my face. “Shut up. I don’t accept any financial backing from you. End of discussion.”
He was probably the only person in the world who could get right into my face and be rude as fuck and my ego didn’t even bristle. We’d both accepted the other as they were and vowed nothing could ever come between us so long ago, so nothing would ever change that. I threw him an air kiss. “I love you, too.”
A smile flickered across his features, and he settled back into the booth. Our conversation drifted to other topics, but my mind was still stuck on ways I could help him. Starting with forcing my brothers to start training there.
If word got out that Dom’s gym was where the most powerful bachelors of the city hung out, people would flock to the gym. In particular, women.
Women like Jemma—who, according to one of the earlier reports—had very recently started training BJJ at a gym in Boston.
Jemma.
My eyes wandered back to her. She was still sitting at the same spot, typing furiously on her phone. Did she really think I wouldn’t recognize her?
I couldn’t wait to start the next stage of this delicious game we were playing.
Maybe, once I had her in my apartment, I shouldn’t interrogate her right away. No, it would be far more entertaining to let her stew for a couple of hours, to keep her off-balance and guessing.
A slow-burn approach would be much more satisfying, especially with someone as feisty as the little punk. And who knew? Maybe I could finally get a few definitive answers out of her without losing my mind first. Answers that I should’ve had weeks ago.
I grabbed my phone and texted Hawk. Gabe told me Raptor Security was the best, and I trusted him. The whole thing was way more complex than I’d anticipated.
I looked back up and caught Jemma staring before she hid again.
Her obliviousness made me chuckle.
This game is just getting started, little girl.
I excused myself, muttering something about needing to use the restroom. Dom barely acknowledged me, too engrossed in a text he’d just gotten.
My gaze flicked to her, and Jemma immediately hunched over, turned her back to me, and buried her face in an oversized menu as if that measly camouflage could conceal her from my probing eyes.
The little punk thought she was being sly, but it was painstakingly clear she had no clue what she was actually doing.
She was so obvious, it was almost insulting.
For a fleeting moment, I considered marching over and confronting her head-on. Dragging her out of the restaurant and forcing her to face me in public. But the other way was so much better. The thought alone sent a delicious thrill zinging through my veins—the intoxicating rush of imagining having her at my mercy, squirming beneath my scrutiny.
I couldn’t wait to see her squirm, and there would be time for confrontation later, once I had her precisely where I wanted her—alone, trapped, with nowhere to run.
I made my way toward the restrooms, pretending I had no clue she was there watching me.
I rounded the corner, out of her line of sight, and pulled my phone from my pocket. A few taps and I was connected to Michele on the other end.
“Everything in place?” I kept my tone clipped.
“Yes. We have eyes on the target and are prepared to execute the moment she exits the restaurant.”
“Good. Get rid of her security detail. And tell everyone to handle her with care. If there’s a single scratch on her…” I trailed off and ended the call without another word. My men would follow my directive to the letter anyway.
Nobody would hurt her.
Nobody would touch her.
Nobody but me.
A slow, sinister smile crept across my lips as I leaned back against the tiled wall.
My little punk, you just wait . She wanted to play a game of cat and mouse? Well, she was about to realize just how outmatched she truly was.
I couldn’t wait to see the surprise on her face when she discovered the cat had been the mouse all along.
I took a deep breath to collect myself and smoothed the hard edges of my smile back into an inscrutable mask.
I walked back, pretending to have no idea she was there, but instead of just walking by like earlier, I changed direction in a last-minute decision.
I brushed past her, my shoulder grazing the back of the seat as I walked by—a seemingly accidental brush that certainly wasn’t lost on her if her sudden stillness was any indication.
I suppressed my grin. I’d been close enough to catch a whiff of her scent, close enough so she would’ve felt the barest whisper of my touch. My gaze slid over her briefly, taking in the tense line of her shoulders and the slight tremble in her hands as she gripped the menu tighter.
She was mere inches away, so deliciously close, and yet she remained oblivious to the fact that I observed every breath she took, every subtle shift of her body.
A low thrum of anticipation coiled deep in my core, and I had to resist the urge to reach out and rip that ridiculous hat from her head, forcing her to face me—to look into my eyes and see the dark promise shining there.
Only a little while longer.
Let her stew in the delicious suspense of this situation a little while longer.
I crossed the restaurant, slid back into my seat, and immediately pulled out my phone once more and fired off a quick text to Alex.
“Jemma’s with me. She’s going to spend some time with the family. I’ll have her back at your hotel by seven.”
This way, Alex and the Donnellys wouldn’t be alarmed at her sudden disappearance.
I could only imagine what would happen otherwise. If Isabella or Mirabella suddenly disappeared, I would tear the city apart in order to find them.
And as far as Alex was concerned, Jemma was like a little sister to him. At least, he’d been as protective of her as a big brother would be.
Alex sent me back a thumbs-up, and I hummed.
I would have a couple of hours with the little punk. Without distractions or interruptions.
My methods might be questionable, but it was time to settle things straight once and for all and get to the root of this.
If my suspicions about Jemma Donnelly being the hacker were right, she needed to be taken down a notch.
And I was the one to do it.
I couldn’t wait to get some answers in the process.
A sidelong glance revealed Jemma’s eyes were trained on me over the top of her menu before she hid again.
I couldn’t make out the exact details of her facial features, but after our last altercation, I didn’t need to see her to envision her reactions.
Soon enough, her pupils would be blown wide while she would suck in air, hovering between trepidation and sheer panic.
I grinned.
She was going to get a deliciously up-close-and-personal look at just how dangerous it was to go against me. And I couldn’t wait to see how long it took before she would beg for forgiveness.
Beg me to let her go.