24. Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Ettore
I watched Liria’s naked, sleeping form. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. Her dark hair spread out around her like a halo, catching the soft glow of the morning sun that slipped through the cracks in the curtains. Her skin, smooth as silk and kissed by the soft rosy blush of sleep, looked ethereal in the dim light.
A single sheet was draped across her middle; on one side her shoulder was bare, the delicate curve of it highlighted by a ray of sunshine filtering in through the window. On the other side, her slender arm lay thrown carelessly above her head, fingers curled into a loose fist against the pillow. I watched as every breath she took made her chest rise and fall gently, a peaceful rhythm that matched the steady beat of my heart. I reached out to trace the line of her collarbone with my fingertips, barely making contact, not wanting to disturb her slumber.
It was a shame I had to leave this sight and go into the dark underbelly of the world I ruled. I had a lot to do today as a Don, and as much as I wanted to stay in bed with Liria, that work needed to be done. Especially since part of it involved protecting her and our child.
Our child. I hadn’t expected to be a father so soon, and I hadn’t expected to feel so elated about it. When we entered into the arranged marriage, the child was simply part of the agreement, an heir to continue the Moretti legacy. But now it feels like a piece of Liria and I, something I must protect no matter what it takes.
I brushed a stray curl off her face gently, beaming at her relaxed features. A sense of tranquility washed over me as I watched her dream, her lips twitching slightly into an almost-smile. My hand instinctively hovered over her belly, protectively shielding the tiny life that was growing there.
With a soft sigh of resignation, I forced myself to rise from the bed. The rustle of the sheets caused Liria to stir slightly, her brow creasing in a small frown before it smoothed out again. I paused, holding my breath as if my very breathing would wake her. When she appeared to remain asleep, I let out the breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding and rose from the bed.
I tiptoed around the bedroom, taking care not to wake her as I dressed for the day. The soft glow of the morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as I slipped on my clothes and reached for my phone. I made my way to the living room where Hugo was patiently waiting for me. With a baby on the way, perhaps it was time to increase her security detail to two guards instead of one.
After briefing Hugo, I headed down to our main warehouse to get paperwork done for the day. Many people wouldn’t associate paperwork and the Mafia, but there were documents that needed to be completed. Signing fake invoices, forging documents, and general things like paying rent on our businesses.
After a painstakingly long day of the boring work, nighttime finally rolled around. Tonight was the night my friends and I were going to get some answers out of Jules Gervase, and I had been itching to do it as soon as possible. I needed to eliminate any threat to my wife and unborn child before it could take root.
As we made our way down to The Rusty Anchor bar, the pungent smell of saltwater and fish filled our nostrils. To the side of the docks, which were now quiet at nighttime, stood a solitary building. The bar’s weathered walls and rusted metal roof bore witness to years of enduring storms and braving the elements. The owners had never bothered to update it, because their clientele was sketchy and didn’t care about looks.
“This area is such a piece of shit,” Felix said as he parked the car in the gravel lot, his gaze sweeping over the rundown bar and the dilapidated warehouses that clustered around it.
“We have a warehouse in this area,” Vincenzo reminded him dryly, his dark eyes narrowing slightly in the dim lighting of the car. “I manage it.”
“It’s just for storing guns and shit, though,” Felix retorted, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “No one cares if it looks like crap.”
Ignoring their banter, I stepped out of the car, my hands brushing over the icy cold metal of the car door. My gaze was fixed on The Rusty Anchor. It was a place where men who lived on the edge of society gathered. Men whose lives were filled with crime and deceit, much like our own.
We weren’t even sure if Jules was in there. If he was, he was sure to run, so we might have to start a fight. And in an establishment like that, a fight can go one of two ways. Option one: no one gives a shit. Or, option two: the man has friends, and they join the fight.
I really hoped it was option one.
“Vincenzo, Felix, you stay outside,” I motioned for Emilio and Rocco to follow me into the bar. The scent of stale beer and cheap whiskey hit us along with the dim, unwelcoming light as the door creaked open.
No one turned their heads when we walked in. In places like these, you didn’t ask questions. You didn’t make eye contact unless you were looking for trouble. The regulars kept their heads low, their eyes glued to the amber liquid in their glasses or the faded poker cards in their gloved hands.
I scanned the room subtly, trying to spot Jules among the mixture of scruffy dock workers and convicts. He was easy to find. The man was nestled in a corner, hunched over a half-empty glass of what looked like bourbon, his lanky figure impossible to miss.
“Go close out his tab,” I said to Rocco.
People would look the other way if you started a fight in the bar. But if you walked out without paying, the bartender wouldn’t hesitate to hold a gun to your temple until you paid up.
Rocco nodded and made his way to the bar counter, sliding a wad of cash toward the barkeep who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. I locked eyes with Emilio, giving him a nod before we both started moving, casually making our way towards Jules.
The man was entranced in his drink, his eyes reflecting the amber swirls in his glass, seemingly oblivious to our approach.
“Jules,” I said, my hand clamping down on his shoulder. “Let’s have a little chat outside.”
Jules looked up at me from his drink with a start, the blood draining from his face as he registered my presence. He tried to pull away, but my grip on his shoulder was firm. I leaned in closer and shot him a deadly smile, the kind that said he wasn’t escaping this situation without some collateral damage.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jules stuttered, attempting to recover his composure. His eyes darted to the barkeep, but the man was studiously polishing a glass, detaching himself from whatever was about to go down.
“Someone you really shouldn’t have pissed off,” I replied, my voice level. I tightened my grip on Jules as I attempted to get up. “Let’s head outside.”
Without another word, I forced him out of his seat and led him toward the door. His resistance was feeble, his movements sluggish from the alcohol. We passed by the pool tables where a couple of patrons stopped their game to watch us. Their eyes followed us to the door, but they didn’t interfere. They knew better than to meddle in the affairs of others - especially when those others were men like me.
As we stepped out into the night, the chill air hit our faces. The bar’s flickering neon sign barely illuminated the grimy alleyway, casting long, ominous shadows on the graffitied brick walls. Vincenzo and Felix waited for us outside, emerging from the shadows.
Jules blanched at the sight of Vincenzo, his feeble protests dying in his throat. The man stood over six and a half feet tall, and looked like he was built of rock. Each time his fist connected with someone, it was like a sledgehammer hitting a brick wall — utterly devastating. And Felix was just as dangerous. He had a short fuse and made impulsive decisions — the kind of man who’d shoot first and ask questions later.
“Tell me about that note, Jules,” I said, resisting the urge to slam his face into the side of the building.
“Look, I can explain,” Jules stammered, his back pressed against the cold brick wall as he tried to widen the distance between us.
I cut him off with a sharp gesture, my face darkening. “No, you don’t explain. You answer,” I said, my voice barely above a deadly whisper.
“But—”
“Now.”
“Okay! Okay...” He began to ramble, his voice shaking, eyes flitting between Vincenzo, Felix, and myself. “It was just business, okay? Just a job, that’s all it was. A job.”
“Obviously,” Emilio scoffed from behind us.
Jules continued, never taking his eyes off me. His voice was shaky, trembling with fear. “I’m telling you the truth, alright?! They said it was a simple job, just pass some girl a note to strike some fear into her.”
“Who is ‘they?’” I said, growing impatient.
“Th-they didn’t give names,” Jules stuttered, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Just an envelope of cash and the instructions. Pass the note to the girl in the photo.”
Fuck. I could tell when men were lying to me - a skill I had gained over years on the job - and he didn’t look like he was. “What did they look like?”
“Rich. Real rich. They had Rolex’s that were real - I used to sell fake ones, so I could spot it was legit immediately.”
“A lot of people in this city are rich, Jules,” I growled. “Give us something more.”
“They were... old money rich. Not new tech billionaires. They carried themselves different, like they owned the world. One of them was older, in his sixties maybe, with grey hair and these piercing blue eyes. The other one... he was younger, mid-thirties or so.”
The back door to the tavern opened. A drunk man stumbled out, completely unaware of our presence, and started pissing against the back of the building. We should get out of here and take our business elsewhere.
“You’re coming with us,” I said to Jules, not sure if we would need more information from him. “Until we find these men, you can have a short stay in our warehouse.”
I didn’t mention that the stay ended with a complementary bullet through his temple.