Chapter Ten
Damiano
Fucking Melinda…Melanie…whatever her name is.
I am seething as I watch the cab disappear into the distance, the weight of my frustration building. I almost didn’t make it to her in time before she left me standing.
Again.
Luckily, I have an open tab with the restaurant and didn’t have to bother with the bill when I managed to get out of that woman’s claws to rush after Lily.
Fuck, she’s fast. And stubborn.
I am so going to enjoy fucking that stubbornness right out of her.
I pause. No.
She is a sweet little flower, I remind myself. She can’t know about the dark and depraved images of her that flash through my mind whenever I look at her.
“Why this nickname?” she asks, tilting her head with that curious little spark in her eyes.
Goddammit. Of all the questions.
I freeze for a heartbeat. She has no idea what she’s just stepped into. No clue that the name she is wearing like a crown was made of madness and forged in obsession.
Because she is light, she is pure, like a white flower blooming in the middle of a battlefield.
Because she looks at me without fear when everyone else either grovels or runs.
Because I want to ruin her, crush her in my palm like the delicate flower she is.
I want to press her into my world until there’s no air left, until the only thing she breathes is me.
I want to stain her with the darkest parts of myself, keep her tucked away where no one can reach her, pure only in the way I decide.
I want her in my palm, trembling, marked, mine. Then I want to devour her.
But I can’t say that.
Not yet.
So I shrug, pushing the monster back down, chaining it behind the casual smile I’ve perfected over the years.
“Because it suits you.” She rolls her eyes and laughs, teasing me, unaware of how close she is to the edge of a very steep cliff.
And all I can do is smile, while my fingers itch for her throat and my heart wonders how much longer I can keep pretending I’m a man…when all I really want is to be her monster.
* * * *
I slam the empty glass on the table.
“Rough night, Romeo?” Luc smirks.
“Shut up, dickhead.” I signal the waiter for another glass of whiskey.
We’re sitting at our usual spot in the back of Teo’s private club, Second Circle, a place that serves as the perfect front for his far more lucrative business.
Beneath the polished surface of this upscale club he runs a complex web of surveillance and data trade, gathering and selling information through every available means.
As my enforcer, his skills with technology have been invaluable more times than I can count.
The club itself? He doesn’t need it, but I suspect he enjoys playing the part of the club owner, hiding in plain sight.
The whiskey he imports is damn good too, one of the few things in this city that never fails to satisfy.
So this place became our hangout spot, a refuge to blow off steam when the weight of everything gets to be too much.
The whiskey, and the other amenities that come with the club, I remind myself.
Second Circle is a very private, very exclusive place, a haven for those with money and power to indulge in their most secret desires without fear of exposure.
The price of admission is steep, a financial barrier that ensures only those who can truly afford to play can step through its doors.
Every patron and employee are bound by ironclad NDAs, their lips sealed tighter than any vault.
It’s a sanctuary for those who wish to explore darker, more forbidden games.
There is no need for the pretense of pleasantries nor for wining and dining a partner first. Here, everything is laid bare.
There are no expectations beyond the unspoken rules of the game.
What happens in the Second Circle of Hell stays in the Second Circle of Hell.
“Let me guess, she said no?” Luc’s smug voice yanks me out of the pit I’ve been stewing in.
“Let it go,” I grunt, nursing my drink like it personally betrayed me.
“All right, all right. No need to get all growly.” He leans back, cocky as ever. “Y’know what you need? Some fresh pussy. That’ll clear your head right up.”
“I don’t need your bullshit advice,” I snap. “Why don’t you take my advice and shut the fuck up.” Luc just grins. Bastard lives to poke the bear.
Teo strolls over with a glass in hand, calm as always. He’s the level head between the three of us, which makes him the designated peacekeeper every time I’m this close to putting a bullet through Luc’s smug fucking grin.
“What’s going on?” he asks, glancing between us.
“Our fearless Don’s nursing a case of blue balls,” Luc supplies cheerfully.
Teo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Let me guess. The girl you had me look into? Lily Bianchi?”
Luc snorts. “Yep. She told him no, and apparently that’s not in his vocabulary.”
“Go ahead,” I mutter darkly. “Why don’t you two dickheads talk like I am not fucking sitting here?”
They continue to ignore me and Luc fills him in about my unsuccessful endeavor while Teo listens with increasing interest.
“She’s got some grit, that one,” Teo says after a low whistle. Then he smirks. “Let me know if you want me to sway her. I could always persuade her with my—”
I’m on him before he finishes the sentence, my fist curled in his collar, slamming him against the wall so hard the glasses rattle on the table.
“Don’t you fucking come near her,” I snarl, low and lethal. “I’ll tear your limbs off one by one and make you choke on your own teeth if you so much as glance her way.”
Silence drops like a bomb.
I release him and step back, breathing hard. Teo straightens, eyeing me with something between caution and surprise. Luc lets out a long, slow whistle and plops down in the booth again.
“Shit. He’s got it bad,” Teo mutters, rubbing his neck. We both sit down.
“Told you,” Luc says with a grin, unbothered, and claps me on the shoulder. “Lust’s a bitch, huh?”
I grit my teeth and down what’s left in my glass.
The burn is welcome. So is the silence, for about five seconds.
Only they can talk to me like that and walk away with all their limbs intact.
We’ve been like brothers since the beginning.
We’ve shared everything—our childhood, our scars, our rise to power, even our damn women.
But this? This is different. Guess things change.
The waiter sets a new glass in front of me and that deflates me. I let out a long breath.
“She didn’t say no,” I say, lifting the glass, voice even. Too even? “We were interrupted. That’s all.” I take a sip, reflecting on the evening. “If fucking Moira hadn’t paraded in like some goddamn walking fire hazard of perfume and desperation, we’d be engaged by now.”
Luc slams his drink on the table then leans forward, eyes gleaming. “Damn, I don’t know any Moira chick yet. Gimme her number. She sounds like a good time.”
I glare at him, the kind of glare that says don’t push it, and Luc throws his hands up, laughing.
But I can’t laugh, not really. Because I know I could’ve convinced her.
Lily might have that fire in her, that smart mouth and those wide, suspicious eyes, but she was softening.
I saw it. She looked at me like I wasn’t the monster people whisper about.
And maybe she was humoring me. Maybe the wine helped.
Maybe I imagined more than there was, but fuck it, I chose to believe it.
Because the alternative? The alternative was that I miscalculated. And I don’t do that.
I knock back the drink and set the glass down harder than necessary.
“She’ll come around,” I mutter, mostly to myself. “She only needs time.”
Luc raises a brow but for once says nothing. Teo watches me quietly, that familiar wariness creeping into his expression. But I ignore it all.
She’ll say yes.
She was going to say yes.
She simply didn’t get the chance.
Right?
I glare one last time at my empty glass, then shove it aside and switch gears.
“What is the news about our problem?”
Teo groans, the sound pure frustration. “They’re fucking shadows. We pulled the footage from the van and the drop locations. Nothing of use there—they’re wearing ski masks, have zero identifying markers. The van’s always parked out of direct view, like someone planned the angles.”
“Fuck,” I mutter. My jaw tightens.
“And the warehouse?” I snap, turning to Luc.
He shakes his head. “Dead end. They never returned. No prints, no DNA, nothing inside except old needles and the kind of filth you expect in a junkie den. We’ve asked around, the locals say they didn’t see anything, but either they’re lying or too strung out to know which way is up.”
“Shit.” My sour mood is worsening by the second.
“I’m flying to New York tomorrow,” I say, my tone firm. “I’ll see if the Lombardis have caught wind of anything. They hate this kind of business. Human trafficking doesn’t sit well with them. We’ve worked together before. Maybe they’ve seen movement we haven’t.”
I glance between them, my tone clipped and final.
“Teo, you’ll come with me. Luc, you stay here. Handle the crews, keep an eye on our fronts. And if anything—anything—comes up, you let me know.”
Both of them nod without hesitation. They might poke fun, might tease and throw low blows, but when it comes to business, they remember exactly who I am. I’m the one who gives the orders.
“And”—I look at Luc—“I want someone on her around the clock.” He nods again, understanding who I meant. We make more plans around drinks before we part ways.
I need to be ready. Even though the Lombardis and the Santaluccias have maintained a friendly relationship, I don’t trust them enough to walk in unprepared.
If there’s something happening, there’s a chance New York is involved.
And if not, I’ll be making the rounds, paying my allies a visit, reminding them of the bonds we share.
I should be back in a few days, maybe a week tops.