12. Basilio
Basilio
F rustration clawed at my chest.
It had been several days and my father hadn’t eased up. Fucking Emilia! She had to open her mouth and blab about Wynter to my father. So now on top of riding my ass about the fucking Brennans and wiping them out of existence, he also rode my ass about Wynter. He wanted to know who she was.
I’d rather cut my dick off than tell him about her.
I’d never been so fucking happy that cartel came to visit, interrupting Father’s questioning.
Goddamn Emilia.
Apparently, she needed a reminder of who the fuck I was. Right after this, I’d go and teach the jealous wench a lesson. She was a greedy, power-hungry bitch. If there was one thing my father hammered into me, it was forgiveness made you look weak.
So after this meeting, I’d be sure to pay her a visit. And if something happened to Wynter because of her big mouth to my father, I’d fucking slice her to pieces.
The atmosphere around the room was tense. We met the cartel in one of our warehouses that also had a conference room for meetings with higher ranking members. I preferred not to take them to my establishments and Father pretty much left me free rein when it came to meetings.
I sat back in my chair and cracked my knuckles. I should be focused on the situation in this room, yet all I could think about was Wynter. Her last message to me said she was on her way back. And I knew where she had been. Of course, I knew that because of Dante.
He flew back early this morning after the fiasco at his casino.
My woman was directly involved with it. Her girl quad squad was more trouble than I initially thought.
What the fuck ever. She accepted me for who I was so I’d accept her for who she was.
If she liked to cheat and steal, fuck it, I’d let her.
Maybe I’d contain it to safe environments where I could protect her.
I’d finally see her tomorrow. I couldn’t fucking wait.
The burning need and worry concerning Wynter surged through my veins. I worried about what she and her girlfriends were up to and that she’d get herself killed. I worried about my father sniffing around her.
I fucking worried about her, period. I knew I couldn’t fucking handle something happening to her.
Dante’s shifting gaze flickered to me, warning me to keep my shit together. I would have my shit together when I shoot all these goddamn idiots, including my own father. I had no time for this shit and this supposed negotiation was a fucking waste of my time.
Sebastian fucking Tijuana could have called, instead of insisting on a face-to-face meeting. He should know by now that it’d be my way or the fucking highway.
“Ten million dollars for two truckloads and-”
“Seven million,” I cut the head of the Tijuana Cartel off, my voice remaining impassive. I heard the fucker’s brother gave Raphael Santos a hard time. Hence the reason for his untimely death. “One week. One truckload here and the other in Philadelphia. Take it or get the fuck out.”
I didn’t have time for this shit. There were plenty of distributors in the market and this fucker knew it. Sebastian Tijuana wasn’t dumb and certainly not ignorant to not realize he was overcharging me for the drug shipment.
A tense air crept through the room. I could see even from my spot my father’s complexion turning red, but thankfully he said nothing.
After all, this was my deal and my warehouse.
He hadn’t been successful lately in running his businesses.
I might have had a thing or two to do with it, chipping away at him.
Payback’s a bitch and his payback is way overdue.
Maybe if he’d get his head out of his ass and stop obsessing over the Brennans, he’d notice it. Maybe even succeed in growing some of his own shitty relationships. His loss; my gain.
“Seven million,” Sebastian agreed, standing up. We shook on it and he was out the door.
Thank fucking God!
Now if only my father would follow, the day would be looking up.
“Well,” my father said from the seat behind me, “if this is how you conduct business, Son, I don’t know how we’re still in business.”
I gritted my teeth. He barely hustled with his ancient and outdated ideas. The Italian Syndicate thrived under business dealings that Dante, Priest, Emory, and I made. Though at this very moment, business was the least of my concerns.
“It’s not good business to piss off suppliers, Basilio,” Father continued, leaning back in his chair, his eyes on me. “Or does this have something to do with the blonde hussy Emilia told me about?”
I decided I’d kill her. Skin her alive. I should have killed her when she sold off Thalia to settle her debt.
“It worked out just fine,” I said, glancing down the table to where my father sat with Angelo, his right hand man. “I wouldn’t let him screw us over.”
“And the hussy?” He just couldn’t let go, although something about the smugness in his eyes rubbed me the wrong way.
“Like I said, she’s nobody.” A dark edge crept into my voice.
I refused to talk to him about Wynter. My father had a tendency to destroy good things. I’d be damned if I’d let him even attempt to taint the golden-haired woman who smiled innocently and happily.
Wynter and her friends might have some suspicious activities going on, but fuck if I’d judge them. Maybe they were short on money and this was the only way they could get it. I’d ensure Wynter never lacked. I had plenty of money to support anything she had going on.
Though Dante’s revelation still made no sense to me.
A rigged poker game and some property damage at his casino, Royally Lucky, in Chicago.
That’s where Wynter and her girlfriends went, why she canceled on me, costing Dante a couple of hundred thousands of dollars in lost revenue.
Dante recognized the woman he’d seen with Liam and the rest of the girls that danced on the bar at The Eastside.
Apparently, there was a girl squad Mission Impossible going on with the four women.
Though I had to admit, I was impressed by Wynter’s gaming skills.
It was clear she counted cards and I never would have guessed she’d be capable of it.
Luckily, Dante was my cousin, but if they’d walked into one of the businesses my father owned or someone like him, they’d be dead.
I already started looking into buying clubs that she could rob with her girlfriends. Either that or I’d put a stop to it. For Wynter’s own good.
I’d come to the realization that I’d been pining after Wynter since she first landed in my arms three months ago. I thought about her way too often since that night, but I came to terms she’d forever stay a mystery. It was better that way - for her and for me.
But then we crossed paths and I’d made her mine, whether she liked it or not.
And she did, just as I did. She had a body I wanted to bury myself in.
Her smiles were my own personal version of heaven.
It didn’t take a genius to realize my control was slipping around her and we had barely gotten started.
I was hung up on her, falling fast, furious, and deep. I knew I’d better marry her fast.
Seeing he’d get nowhere with me, my father stood up and gave both Dante and me a nod before leaving the room. He earned his ten percent just by sitting here and annoying me. Fucker!
Once the door clicked, Dante finally broke the silence.
“You have to hide it better, Basilio,” he warned. “I swear, I see smoke steaming off your body. It’s about to start a wildfire and consume everything.”
I flipped him the bird. He had no idea how good it felt to feel Wynter’s small body pressed against me.
The moment her lips connected with mine was the most vanilla thing I had experienced in over a decade.
Yet it unsettled me more than any other sexual act I’d ever done. It replayed on a loop in my mind.
The way she moaned into my mouth. The smell of her arousal. I needed her and I hadn’t needed anything in such a long time.
Fuck me.
Dante was right. I should hide it better.
“What’s your plan with Brennan's woman?” I asked him. I had Angelo send me information on Davina Hayes. Just like Wynter, she had no connection to the underworld. Well, except for Liam Brennan. It made you wonder how in the hell those two got together, considering their stark age difference.
He shrugged. “I’ll collect the poker losses and damages from him.”
I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the footage of Wynter playing poker.
Even more, how good she was at it. If I had known she’d be in Chicago in Dante’s casino, I would have ensured I was there.
Then I’d have scooped her up and spent days buried inside her.
She looked like a million bucks striding through the casino like she owned the joint.
And the way she kept her cool while playing her hand was a fucking turn-on.
The woman was surprising me.
“Let’s call the Irish bastard,” Dante announced. “It’s the only reason I flew back to New York.”
So I dialed Liam up from the conference room speakerphone. It took no time for him to answer.
“What?” he barked.
“Is that how you greet all your associates?” I drawled, annoyed I’d even have to talk to him again.
“Only the annoying ones,” he grumped. “And you’re far from being my associate.”
“We all need goals,” I deadpanned, though truthfully, I didn’t give a shit about ever being Liam’s associate.
“Why are you annoying me, DiLustro?”
I nodded at Dante. He might as well explain it. All I cared about was that Wynter’s name stayed out of that conversation.
“The woman from The Eastside was in my casino,” Dante started.
“She ruined his first floor and cost Dante days’ worth of business dealings,” I added so he’d understand there’d be a bill to pay.
“She what?” Liam barked with a growl. “Are you fucking with me?”
My lips curved into a smile. I’d rarely seen the man riled up but whoever that woman was, she managed to get to the Irish fucker. I liked her already.
“You’re not my type,” I told him dryly.