5. Basilio
Basilio
T he next day, Dante and I strode into The Eastside Club. The guard at the front didn’t bother asking us anything as we walked in. Everyone knew by this point the bar was transitioning to the DiLustro family.
I took the fact it was packed as a good sign. It was barely approaching eight at night and the club was pumping. It was one of the most popular establishments in east New York.
Glancing at my phone, I checked for messages.
Angelo, my father’s right hand man, was supposed to confirm he had erased all evidence of Wynter and her friends setting the house on fire.
He was going over all the surveillances to ensure he covered all the bases and nothing pointed to the young women. And he’d send me all the evidence.
“He’s expecting us, right?” Dante asked as the song switched to Selena Gomez. Absentmindedly, I made a note to improve the music here. Since it’d be my club, I’d ensure everything was top notch.
“Yes, he’s handing over the deed,” I told him. “His deadline is midnight.”
Hopefully, he wouldn’t wait until the last goddamn minute.
My phone buzzed and I glanced at the phone, hoping it was Wynter. I had sent her a message over three hours ago, letting her know the wipeout was almost done. It was Angelo.
*Wiped clean. You have the only copy.*
I pressed the recording and watched the women frantically run around the house. The one with auburn hair kept trying to make the fire bigger, while the others screamed. Wynter seemed to be the only one that tried to keep a cool head and extinguish it.
Satisfied with it, I put the phone away.
“Where the fuck is he then?” Dante pondered, his eyes traveling over the crowd. Brennan would be here, I had no doubt.
The beat drummed through the floors. Rowdy men cheering sounded out in the main area, but we hadn’t gotten there yet.
“So did you do it?” Dante asked.
The two of us were raised like brothers.
We weren’t far off as cousins. His father ran the Chicago Syndicate, just as mine ran New York.
And just like I surprised my father, so did Dante.
Our old men might be the heads of the Syndicate, but we were the Kingpins.
Dante, Priest, who ruled Philadelphia, and I.
My sister ran Las Vegas but only my cousins, father, uncle, and I knew she was really the one pulling the strings.
With each day, we grew more powerful and stronger than our fathers ever were.
“Do what?” I responded distractedly. I had to get my head screwed on right. Ever since I ran into Wynter again, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.
“Did you have the surveillance wiped out for the golden princess?” Dante chuckled darkly. The amusement crossed his expression though his eyes were sharp on the crowd around us. Neither one of us trusted the Irish. “I’ve never seen you look at a woman like that before.”
I shrugged. It didn’t mean anything. She was a stunning woman, and I was certain she was used to male attention with her looks.
The song switched to “Legends Are Made” by Sam Tinnesz and the whole bar became even more riled up than a few minutes ago. The sound of cheering and yowling rang through the whole establishment while the speakers pumped with the beat and lyrics of the song.
It was way too goddamn loud.
“Does the entertainment come with the club?” Dante mused. “I spy your golden principessa and a couple more troublemakers.”
I followed his gaze to find three women dancing on top of the bar, their dresses together making the color of the damn Irish flag.
And my principessa with the golden halo dancing on top of it, seducing everyone like a temptress.
Wynter Star moved seductively, each sway of her body graceful like she had done this a million times before.
Men’s eyes ate her up, greedy for a glimpse of her smooth skin. My eyes traveled over her body in what must have been the shortest white dress on the planet. I had never complained about a woman wearing so little before. So this was a first.
Every single pair of eyes in this bar was on them.
A burning ball of energy shot through me and singed my insides.
“What the fuck?” I growled, glaring at all the men. I wanted to kill them all. Maybe I could break a beer bottle and use it as a weapon. Slash everyone’s throat one at a time. Albeit, it’d probably be quicker to just shoot them.
The three girls shared a glance, then their heads turned in the same direction. Dante and I followed their line of sight to see Liam Brennan striding towards them with a seriously pissed off expression.
“I guess the head of the Irish doesn’t approve,” Dante sneered, though amusement colored his voice.
The two of us watched Liam growl at the women, trying to get through the wild crowd of men.
“Get the fucking brats off the bar,” he shouted but it was a moot point. The crowd was way too wild by now. “Where is the fourth woman?” he growled, his eyes roaming the crowd and searching for who the fuck knew.
Dante and I watched the women up on the bar. It was clear they were up to something. The question was what and why were they giving Liam Brennan a hard time?
Liam turned to his man, Quinn, and barked an order, though his head was turned and I couldn’t read his lips.
Quinn’s eyes turned to the girls and he nodded, then pushed through the crowd. I watched as the three women on the bar shared a glance, switched the position and one of them unzipped the dress for Wynter as she swayed, kicking off her heels.
The dress slid off her body, leaving her in white boyshorts and a full coverage white bra.
Jesus Christ!
The men went crazy, but all I could hear was buzzing in my ears. Blood rushed through my body and went straight into my groin. Wynter Star had the sweetest body I had ever seen. It was fucking centerfold-worthy. It called to me, like a song called to a mockingjay.
She was every man’s wet dream. More importantly, she was my dream. Perfectly toned body, petite with curves. And her ass.
Fuck!
The two women went to the furthest right end of the bartop while Wynter strode like she was on the catwalk to the left, wearing her undergarments. Truthfully it looked like a bathing suit but if she attempted to take it off, I’d follow through with the killing spree.
“Are they Irish?” Dante questioned.
Fuck if I knew. I searched the name Wynter Star, but barely any information came up.
I had Angelo run a background on her. Nothing.
I had Priest run it too. Nothing. It was like the girl barely existed.
Born and raised in California. No family.
Nothing really worthwhile or remarkable in her background.
Yet, the way she carried herself told me there had to be more to her.
She carried herself with confidence, like she knew her worth and wouldn’t allow anyone to take it from her.
She gave out ice princess vibes, but I’d bet my life underneath it all was a warm, glowing heart.
Either way, I had no intention to stop my digging. I’d find every single piece of information on this woman.
“I don’t think so,” I muttered as I watched Wynter twerk her ass on top of that bar. The other women shook their ass like they were in a twerking competition too, but I just couldn’t peel my eyes from Wynter’s form.
Then out of the blue, Wynter picked up her dress then straightened up, barely five feet away from where I stood. Glancing at Quinn, she winked while he cursed like a motherfucker.
“You three will be banned,” he raged. “Need a good arse whooping.”
The girl with wild red hair flipped him the bird. She could be Irish; she looked like it. A last shared look by the three women, Wynter nodded and then faced the rowdy crowd with a sweet smile.
“Everybody,” she shouted and the room quieted a notch. “Fucking move so I can jump off.” The men parted like the Red Sea. Leveling her hands up in the air, Wynter lifted off into the air into a somersault and landed on her feet, right in front of me.
Without looking, she went forward and ran straight into my chest.
“Ouch,” she yelped, taking a small step back and her hand on her forehead, rubbing it.
She raised her eyes. A flicker of recognition and surprise flashed in them.
“Hey there,” she greeted me in her musical voice, those luscious full lips curved into a smile. Glancing over her shoulder, I followed her gaze. Quinn was too far away and couldn’t quite see us. Not yet anyhow.
“You often dance on bar tops half-naked?” I inquired, my tone slightly possessive.
If she noticed it, she didn’t let on. This overwhelming feeling to keep her all to myself was a novelty.
There hadn’t been a single woman in my entire life that I obsessed over.
Fucking ever. But Wynter’s curves. Her breasts.
I needed to be the only man to ever see them.
“Oh this is nothing,” she mused. “I’m used to being half-naked with all my training.
” A growl rose deep in my throat. From the corner of my eyes, I noted Dante’s twisted grin.
“Want to have that dinner now?” she asked, pulling her dress over her head and tugging it down her body like it was nothing. “I want to pay off my debt.”
Now dressed, my eyes traveled down her body, the white dress hugging her curves.
Fuck! That sight would forever be tattooed into my memory.
Every square inch of her was perfect. Toned and smooth skin.
Her wild, blonde curls. Her sparkling eyes.
And her mouth that smiled, like we were alone in the world.
“Your shoes are missing,” I told her, trying to get a grip.
She laughed, her eyes glittering like fucking emeralds. This girl lit up when she laughed. She fucking glowed. Grabbing my hand, she tugged on it, pulling me along.
“Buy me a new pair, and I’ll repay you with another dinner,” she suggested mischievously. “But you’ve got to pay. I’m broke.” She kept glancing over her shoulder, in the general direction of Quinn. She never even noticed Dante. “Come on.” She tugged on my hand.
Dante’s eyes met mine over her head.
“I got this,” Dante mouthed reassuringly, a smirk on his face. I’d have to wipe that smirk off his face the next time I saw him. But then again, he was doing me a big favor so maybe I’d let him get away with it.
“Let’s go,” she tugged on me again, tempting me with her smile and I went willingly. Like a dying man being led to water.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and tucked her into me, then started using my height and strength to shove men out of the way. Once outside, she searched over the people standing around. I spotted her girlfriends at the same time that she put her fingers into her mouth, then whistled loudly.
I cocked my eyebrow, surprised at her ability. Somehow she seemed too polished to whistle like a sailor.
“Come on, Wyn,” the red-haired yelled. “Before the fucking asshole comes out and catches us.”
Wynter waved her head. “You guys go. I’ll meet you at the dorms later.”
“What?” The woman with dark hair and blue eyes screeched. I guessed that had to be her cousin by the way she scowled my way. “Why?”
Wynter rolled her eyes. “I don’t interrogate you when you go out with boys,” she protested.
I had to scoff at her calling me a boy. I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt like a boy. Probably the day my mother left me.
“What’s his name?” Her cousin hissed.
“None of your business,” Wynter retorted dryly. “Where is Davina?” she asked.
The two women shrugged, and pointed to the cell phone. Wynter reached underneath her dress, and I realized she had a secret pocket in it. She pulled out her phone and read a message.
*All good. Go without me. I’ll meet you back in the dorms.*
“That’s weird,” she mumbled.
“Are you and your friends getting into trouble?”
Tilting her head up, her shining eyes met my gaze.
“Never,” she deadpanned, but her eyes twinkled with mischief.