13. Leo
13
LEO
A s I study my reflection, my fingers tug at the silk knot beneath my chin. For a brief moment, I’m tempted to pull at the fabric until oxygen becomes scarce. Not that it would do me any good—Frankie would waste no time in rushing to aid me, even as my face turned a familiar shade of purple.
I didn’t consider how nervous I’d be after all this time.
For seven years, I’ve let her do her own thing despite the backlash that ensued. I wonder if she realizes the lengths I’ve gone to in order for her to have her own life. The lives I’ve ended, the secrets I’ve kept, the deals put into place. All for the protection of the woman who fled my condo before the ink on our marriage license dried.
Forged ink, but still. What are the chances she’ll remember that she didn’t technically sign?
The floor creaks as Frankie shifts in the doorway, shuffling inside and closing us in together. He’s in dark jeans and a sports jacket, the gold chain he stole off some Fed a few years ago bright against his black T-shirt.
“Where is she?” I ask, careful to keep emotion from my voice. I prefer he thinks my interest is simply transactional and nothing more. That Stella and I have a deal she hasn’t fulfilled and my presence in New York is merely to see her follow through with it.
When men in this world know you have a weakness, they’ll use it. I’m not stupid enough to fully trust even those in my own circle.
Not when I would exploit the same thing, given the chance.
There’s a pause as he hesitates. “She’s arrived at the Black Rose Auction. They admitted her immediately, as she showed up with an invitation and key in hand.”
My brows twitch in the mirror but don’t fully lift. I keep my expression neutral. “I see.”
She’s early, that wicked girl. As if she thinks she’ll be able to get in and out with no trouble.
Adjusting my tie, I don’t say anything more, even as my molars grind against one another while I think about her being there, getting lost in the crowd or felt up by the perverts in attendance.
The idea of someone else touching what belongs to me doesn’t sit well. All this time, I’ve ignored the possibility that she might have, at some point, escaped my detection and gone off with someone. That she might have allowed them to sully her innocence in ways I didn’t.
“What exactly are you hoping to accomplish tonight?” Frankie asks, squinting at me.
“The Orchidée Sans Nom ,” I reply. “Are you familiar with it?”
“Uh…no.”
“It’s a genetically engineered plant. Only the second of its kind, and there are multiple guests attending this auction who are interested in obtaining it, all for varying reasons. Some are nefarious, some are just collectors, and others want the plant to do some good out in the world. Our target falls into the last category. According to several online forums, Stella’s boss wants the flower for research—and likely to lord over the other scientists in his field. Wouldn’t surprise me if he tried to extort some pharmaceutical companies for profit.”
Turning away from the mirror, I smooth down the lapels of my suit jacket, then reach for the gloves resting on the back of a brown velvet bucket seat. My hands are steady as I slide the black leather over them, hiding the gnarled skin on my palms.
My father’s death was long overdue. Even though the slaughter of Flavio and the half dozen men in that office seven years ago complicated my life considerably, I’ll never feel bad about doing it.
The death of the De Tore boss opened a gap in a fervent market for control in the Boston underground. When I took over, no one seemed terribly convinced of my abilities or my innocence. So I’ve spent a long time proving myself among my men by securing new deals, and bringing in prime shipments of product we couldn’t get our hands on before. Even attending this auction took years of stealthy planning and a hint of luck.
Only a couple of Elders from the De Tore family remain. With the Riccis defunct and the Commission having washed their hands of us—after they were unsuccessful in linking my father’s death to me, and I assured them I had things under control—the Boston underground is a fucking nightmare. Because of that, the remaining De Tore associates have set their sights on Stella once again. As a sort of payment, I suppose, for the reaping they could never prove.
The De Tores never were good at following protocol. That’s probably why they were so easy to ruin.
Nonetheless, I have no intention of letting them have Stella. Or me.
That’s my official reason for coming anyway. The other is that I’m just…tired of not being near her.
Seven years is a long fucking time to be stuck on the outside, only ever wishing on the stars instead of touching them like I once did.
“So, what does all that have to do with the girl?” Frankie asks. “You think she came here for a flower?”
“If there was a promise of a promotion upon securing the plant, yes.”
Over the years, I’ve learned that Stella is an incredibly driven, focused person. That she’s capable of accomplishing anything she sets her mind to.
It’s part of why I want her by my side so badly; that kind of dedication to improvement and success is attractive, and I want to bask in her glow.
“Why would her boss offer a promotion? Couldn’t he just…come himself?”
“It’s a prestigious event, Frankie. Invite only. Barry Ashcroft wouldn’t have gotten in.”
Frankie exhales, watching as I flex each finger, ensuring my scars are hidden from public view. With my father gone, there’s no shame attached to them anymore, but still. Better they stay obscured, where no one will know to prey on the vulnerability they provide.
“What if they don’t even have the orchid? What if you’ve based all this on some big rumor and Stella realizes it and leaves before you can grab her?”
“It’s no rumor.” My arm falls to my side, and I lift my chin, pinning him with a bored stare. “I sent the flower.”