Chapter 4 – Enzo #2
At almost the exact same time each day, she goes in, ordering the same espresso and Danish.
I watch as she tears each small bite with her hands, then places them in her mouth one at a time, licking the sticky remnants off her fingers after each one.
My cock comes to life as images of her licking the sticky remnants of herself off me come to mind.
It’s an odd feeling, finding myself envious of someone’s fingers.
I want her lips wrapped around me, licking and sucking while she moans her pleasure the same way she is with her food.
Jesus, you’re a goner.
I realize that, not for the first time, I don’t see her security guards in the vicinity. It was the same when she visited The Mansion.
Continuing my search through the café’s footage, I’m looking for any signs of her security detail and finally find one—Liam, quietly tucked away on the opposite side of the café. I recognize him from the club.
The other, Andrew, is outside leaning against a car on his phone.
I learned the first time she came to The Mansion that she only had the two guards.
Liam is a member, and the Dom to one of our bartenders, Chloe.
I don’t busy myself with other people’s affairs at the club, unless I’m helping one or both get off.
But since Chloe and Althea seem close, I’ll be paying closer attention to Chloe and her Dom.
The other guard, Andrew, never came inside The Mansion.
He followed Althea to the front entrance until she was inside the building and the valet took her car.
According to the tail I put on him, he drove a few miles down the road to the all-night diner and waited until Althea’s car came past. Then, he followed her home from there.
When I back up the cameras on the street from the café to her apartment, I catch Althea walking to the café by herself. No guard. No escort. She has a small wallet hanging from a chord on her wrist, and that’s it. There’s no way she could hide a weapon in that thing.
Are they insane? Does her father know they take her safety so lightly?
My pulse is pounding so hard in my head, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
My own sister has at least ten men surrounding her at all times. Two men at a minimum are within reach of her in case she needs to be carted away in an emergency. How the hell is the sole heir to the Drakos empire allowed to walk alone through the streets of downtown Dallas?
It’s not fucking safe!
My coffee cup goes flying off the edge of the desk and onto the floor with the swoop of my hand.
I know I’m being irrational, but it doesn’t make any sense.
Someone as beautiful, as unsuspecting, as important as Althea Drakos should not be allowed to mosey down the streets on her own accord without fucking protection.
“Whoa, boss! You okay in here?” Stavros, the floor manager, asks, barely peeking his head in my office door.
“Yeah,” I reply, dragging both hands through my hair, tipping my chin at the now empty coffee mug. “Spilled my coffee.”
Stavros doesn’t need to be told, he just jumps into action, picking the cup up off the floor and calling someone to come clean the spilled liquid off my floor.
“Need anything else?” he asks, waiting with the mug between his hands for more orders. He can’t change how Althea’s careless employees take her safety for granted.
But I can.
I’ll have to have a chat with her men .
And then I’ll add a few of my own men to her detail.
“What did you find on those phone numbers?” I ask, my eyes still on the screen before me.
“Burner phones,” he replies.
“So, there's nothing really to go on.” I straighten to my full height, brushing imaginary lint from the front of my shirt. “That’ll be all. Tell the others I’m not to be disturbed this morning. I have a lot of work to do.”
And a woman to spy on.
Stavros takes his leave, and I return to my stalking— reviewing of camera footage.
I skimmed through all three days. Watching her walk to the café and eat her breakfast. Althea spends the first two days quietly eating and people-watching while watching phone videos.
The first morning, when a woman comes in with her young son in tow, he waves at Althea, and she smiles wide and waves back.
The second, she seems to have a lighthearted conversation with the waitress.
Something she says makes Althea laugh, and I take note of the way her eyes sparkle when she does.
On the third day, however, a man invites himself to sit at the table across from her and strikes up a conversation. I watch for clues of familiarity. They do seem to know each other, but whoever he is, Althea doesn’t look interested in speaking with him.
Was she expecting him?
He drops into the chair, leaning back, comfortable in his own skin.
For now.
I can’t see his face, but I know the maker of his five-thousand-dollar suit.
Is he trying to impress her with his money? Does he know who she is?
Althea makes a show of ignoring him and enjoying her Danish, ineffectively trying to dismiss him.
Something he says or does catches her off guard, causing her to still.
Her food stops short of her mouth, and her eyes subtly scanning the room tell me she’s suddenly become very aware of her surroundings.
She’s turning her head ever so slightly while replying to him, as she continues to watch the people around them.
She’s looking for her fucking guards.
Anger claws its way up my chest in a low growl.
The stranger doesn’t stay long. I study their exchange and pay close attention to their body language.
He is relaxed and familiar, with an air of arrogance.
Whereas Althea’s is closed off and reads as if she’s not buying whatever it is he’s offering.
But there’s something more. Something in the way her eyes have widened, and her lips turn down at the corners. He’s upset her.
And now I have a motherfucker to find and have a chat with.
Their conversation is over in a matter of minutes. I watch as he stands and quickly pause the frame and move to another camera. This one is closest to the door. I move that recording to another screen and open the same time signature. I catch his face as he turns to leave.
Sebastian Malgeri.
What the hell is she doing with a sleazy bastard like him?
Scenario after scenario flickers through my mind.
Are they seeing each other?
Her body language and discomfort say they’re not, unless there’s a marriage contract that I’m unaware of. It wouldn’t matter.
They could be in business together.
But what could Malgeri offer Drakos that would be of benefit to them?
He’s a low-level criminal organization. Since his father died, their business has been dwindling.
The cartel took over most of the drug distribution.
The Venatti own the gun trade. Rumors have surfaced about Malgeri dipping his hands in the skin trade, but he knows not to do that shit here. Not in Venatti territory.
We don’t get ourselves too heavily involved it what other organizations do.
It keeps us clean when shit goes south. But that doesn’t mean we don’t keep tabs—on everyone .
It keeps us a step ahead and prepared for anything.
And after Marcello Sr. was killed just a couple of months ago, we’ve been hypervigilant about keeping our eyes and informants on everyone.