15. Salvatore
fifteen
Salvatore
“What am I looking at?” I look at the images Dante is showing me on the tablet.
“This is Sabatini and his men. He has quite the little army. All traitors, I assume. Once a traitor, always a traitor,” Dante says.
“You mean they were De Angelo’s men?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have numbers? Names?” I ask.
“Around fifty men. Marco is working on names.”
I send a quick message to Gabriel, asking him to join us in this meeting. He needs to see this.
“The kid said something at the end that has me thinking.”
I smirk. Dante can make any man speak. Even if that means letting him die multiple times and reviving him again. I give him a questioning look.
“When I asked him why he lied about having a sister, he said he didn’t. That he had one, and he earned a lot of money from her. He was out before I could ask any more questions.”
“You think we have a trafficker on our hands?”
“Yes. Whoever he worked for or was associated with one. Not that he knows who he worked for. At least not his real name. He worked with a man called Snake.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Snake? He sounds like a character from some criminal movie.”
Dante rolls his eyes. “Probably some brainwashed lowlife wannabe mobster. The streets are full of them.”
I take my pen from the desk and slide it up and down between my fingers. “Is Marco looking into this?”
“Yes. He said he will need a few days.”
“Good,” I say at the same time Gabriel enters. He is still in his boxing gear, all sweaty, and his nose bleeding.
“I was in the middle of a match.”
“I can see that. But we have a problem on our hands.”
“What kind of problem?” he asks, and Dante passes him the tablet with the images on. “What am I looking at?” he asks.
“Those are Sabatini’s men. All of them were De Angelo’s men. I need you to contact Nico and find out who they are. Go there and deal with this. Nico needs to take care of the traitors. We need to know if Sabatini is trying to take Chicago and what is going on there. Because without a peace treaty, we are under attack, and I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
“On it.” He stands. “Valentino and Bastian are the ones that passed the test. They are waiting for your orders.”
When I married Isabel, I asked Gabriel to find me two soldiers who could guard her. The test was to see who could endure the most pressure, strength, and who was vigilant enough to notice every movement around them.
“I want to see them tomorrow morning in the gym at my workout session.”
“Got it,” he says and leaves.
I turn back to Dante. “I need you to find who the kid was talking about. Find where he was living before, and who his parents are, and who the hell was giving him orders. If Marco and all his technologies can’t help us, we can do this the old-fashioned way.”
I wait for Isabel in the living room. She was already in our room when I came home to get ready for dinner.
When I visualized my plans for opening a hotel chain all over the world and needed a partner, Robert Clements was the one I wanted to work with, not Adkins, but I never made a proposition because he doesn’t work with bachelors. He believes in family values. He once said that the person who can’t commit to one woman as his partner can’t commit to a business partner.
I believe in family values too, but the other kind of family. I never imagined myself marrying, and most certainly not procreating. I will never give my father that satisfaction.
As soon as Isabel agreed to this marriage, I contacted the man and made the appointment. It was almost perfect that he was planning to be in the States this week.
I look at the time, wondering how long she needs to get ready when the doors of her room open, and Isabel exits, taking my breath away. The dress she is wearing hugs her body perfectly, showing all her curves. The below knee-length cream dress has a slight slit on the back, and an open back. Her hair is in an elegant updo, showing her long neck. My mouth waters, and all I can think about is how it would feel licking and biting that neck. She looks delicious.
She clears her throat. I blink. I didn’t realize she was standing in front of me.
“You look beautiful.” I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her to my side.
“You don’t look bad yourself.” She pats my chest, straightening my tie.
This looks so domestic. Like we do this every day. Before I overthink, I lead us out of our suite.
A gentle laugh brings my attention to the woman beside me. My woman. My wife. She indulged Mrs. Clements all the way through dinner. Before we arrived, she asked me how important the dinner was. When I said it is very important, I never thought she would be so perfect.
“You got yourself a special one, if I may say.” Mr. Clements’ eyes follow mine.
I smile politely. “She is.”
“One thinks he can stay a bachelor all his life, but that’s not how people are. They need a person to share their happiness and their unhappiness, their fears and their calmness. Everyone needs yin to their yang, son. And you found yourself a good one.”
Did I? I’ll think about that later. What I want is not what I can have in this life. I made a promise to myself, and I will keep it. This marriage has a deadline.
I smile politely and change the subject. It’s time to get to the point of this dinner. I take a sip of my drink.
“Did you have time to look into my proposals? Or should I pitch it to you?”
“I did. It’s interesting.” He places his fork down and wipes his mouth with the napkin. “I planned on retiring at the end of the year, but since my son caught his fiancée cheating and cancelled his wedding, I need to stay CEO for one more year. Aiden needs to find himself a bride before I can hand him a position as CEO. He would have taken this project without a second thought. He loves building things from scratch. I, however, love to repair things. And starting a hotel chain around the world seems too much for me. I don’t even know if I would still be alive to see it happen.”
“You are still very young, Mr. Clements. Age is just a number,” my wife says, her attention on our conversation. “Mrs. Clements says you have plans to travel, but because of your son’s problem, you need to delay them. Maybe Salvatore’s idea is something he needs to get his head straight. If he loves building from scratch and this project has yours and his interest, you should give it to him. Just tell him you want him to marry before. I heard that arranged marriages are sometimes better than conventional ones.” She smiles and looks at me with a sparkle in her eyes.
“Arranged marriage? I think I like that.” He smiles.
When the server comes with the rest of our dinner, I can only look at Isabel with admiration. I want to take her home and make her mine no matter what she says. I will change her mind because all I want now is her.
“I’ll be sending your proposal to my son. When he takes his head out of his ass, I’ll contact you.” We shake hands on our agreement. He turns to Isabel, taking her hand.
“It was lovely meeting you, my dear. I surely now know why Salvatore here ended his bachelor days and got married.” The car pulls up in front of the restaurant. “This is us. We’ll be in touch,” Clements says before he and his wife slide into the car. Not a minute after, my car arrives, and I open the door for Isabel. I close her door and walk to the other side of the car, tipping the valet and sliding inside before driving down the street.
The dinner was successful, and I have Isabel to thank for that. I didn’t think I needed a wife to close business deals, but it seems I do. She did leave an impression on both of them. She even came up with a solution to the problem.
“Thank you for tonight. We’ve been trying to find the perfect partners for this for a year.” I interrupt the silence in the car.
“It’s not a big deal. They’re nice people. It was easy to talk to them. And, well, you needed a wife just to get a meeting with the man.” She shrugs.
I take a mental note that I’ll need to thank her properly once the deal is settled.
Just as I turn down an alley to take a shortcut, a car appears behind me, hitting my car hard. I push on the gas pedal.
“Fuck,” I say as Isabel looks behind.
“What’s happening?”
“We’re under attack.” I speed dial Gabriel.
“Sal...”
I cut him off. “Black Range Rover, tinted glass, no license plate. We’re under attack. Track my phone.” I cut the line.
“Under your seat, there’s a gun. Give it to me.” Before she can pass it to me, shots fire at us, making Isabel scream. “Give it to me, quick.”
“You’re driving. How will you shoot?” she asks, passing me the gun.
“I’ll improvise.” But first I need a less populated place. I speed toward an industrial area. I can’t be associated with this shooting. “You need to take the wheel from me.”
Her eyes widen. “What?” Her voice shakes with disbelief.
“We need to change seats.”
She looks at me with horror in her eyes. “Are you out of your mind? How?”
“Take the wheel.” She does, and the bullets start again, making her duck her head. “We need to be quick. You need to leap over into my lap quickly. Your left leg first.” She rises from her seat and puts her left leg over but her dress is too tight for her to spread her legs, so I take the material, tearing it and making the slit up to just a little under her butt.
“What are you doing?” I don’t answer as I switch places with her. I pull on the seatbelt, buckling her in just as the bullets rain once again.
“Just keep driving.” I take the gun and open the window, firing back. They sway a little, but no damage is dealt. They have machine guns, and my Glock is nothing against that. I can only hope Gabriel arrives on time.
“Turn right,” I say, the rain of bullets still hitting us. I change my magazine and once again return the fire.
A car appears from the opposite side and starts firing, but not at me, at them. The cavalry is here. I exhale and lean back in my seat.
“Fuck.” I wince at the pain in my shoulder. I’ve been shot.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing. Take the left into the alley. And then right.” I give her instructions, take my suit jacket off, and scrunch it up so I can use it to press on my wound.
“You need a hospital,” Isabel argues.
“It’s just my shoulder. Dante can take care of it. Drive back to the hotel.”
She halts the car, turning to me with fury in her eyes.
“We could have been killed.” She takes off the seat belt and leans toward me, pulling my jacket off and inspecting the wound. She raises her voice. “A little to the left and it could have been your chest that was hit.” She slaps me across the face. “You could have died, you idiot.” She is outraged, her face red. She hits me again, but I grab her hand and pull her toward me. Her breathing races, and she climbs into my lap, straddling me and doing one thing I’ve waited for.
She kisses me.