Chapter 25
Cancio leaned against the edge of the desk beside me, arms crossed, his expression stoic. My father sat in his usual chair, fingers steepled together. Uncle Mario stood by the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a drink though he hadn't taken a sip yet.
And then there was Fabio, my reckless and hotheaded younger brother, slouched in the chair opposite my father, one arm draped over the backrest, his leg bouncing with impatience.
His fingers twitched against his thigh and every few seconds, his gaze flickered to his phone like he had somewhere better to be.
"The Russians are becoming unstable" Cancio said. "Their leadership is getting weak and infighting is getting worse."
My father nodded. "Which is why we need someone there. Eyes on the ground."
A heavy pause settled over the room.
Then he spoke again. "Fabio."
Fabio's head snapped up.
"You will go to Russia." Father said.
Fabio scoffed, leaning back in his chair with an incredulous look. "You can't be serious."
My father's gaze sharpened, the kind of look that could silence a room. "Do I look like I'm joking?"
Fabio let out a dry laugh spreading his arms. "I don't even speak Russian."
Uncle Mario spoke. "You don't need to. You just need to keep them from completely imploding before we decide who to back. Or who to bury."
I watched Fabio carefully. He hated being told what to do more than that. He lived for chaos, thrived in it but only when it was chaos he controlled.
Maybe that's exactly why my father was doing this. He needed to be sharpened, disciplined. And there was no better way than throwing him into the fire.
My father's gaze hardened. "You won't be alone. We will have people there to back you up. But you needs to learn, Fabio. And you won't do that sitting here, drinking and fucking your way through Italy."
Fabio exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair before shoving his phone into his pocket. "Fucking fantastic" he muttered under his breath looking at Cancio and me with the face he used when he fucks up and looked at us for help.
Cancio looks at me, his voice low. "Fabio has potential. You know it."
I let out a slow breath, my gaze locked on my younger brother.
"I know who he is." I said.
I looked back at Cancio, then added. "And that's exactly why I have my doubts."
???????
I spotted Gavino in our usual booth at the club, a cigar balanced between his fingers, a smirk already tugging at his lips as he saw me approach.
"You look like shit." Gavino drawled, exhaling smoke as I slid into the seat across from him.
I picked up the glass already waiting for me and knocked back a sip.
Gavino chuckled, shaking his head. "Marriage getting to you already?" He leaned back
I exhaled sharply, setting my glass down with a dull thud. "Alessa isn't the problem." I lied.
His brows lifted. "No? Then what is?"
I didn't answer, pouring another glass.
Alessa had been distant lately. I noticed the way she barely looked at me when we spoke, the way she avoided lingering in the same room for too long. At first, I had let it slide, maybe she was hurt but now? Now it was starting to get under my skin.
Because I knew when someone was hiding something. I had seen it a thousand times, deals going sideways, men trying to play both sides, people making quiet exits before a betrayal. It was always in the small things.
Alessa wasn't good at hiding, not like that. But she was still keeping something from me.
And I fucking hated it.
Gavino's smirk widened. "Maybe you need a break. I have got a few girls who could help take the edge off. You can have your pick." He flicked ash from his cigar, "Hell, I will even take Alessa for a day. Give you some real freedom."
A sharp, violent crack split the air.
It took me a second to realize it was my own glass. My grip had tightened too much and now there was a deep fracture running through it, liquid seeping from the cracks.
Gavino raised an eyebrow. "Touchy."
My jaw clenched. The way he had said it. It reminded me of something. Something I had tried to ignore.
"Was it you?" I asked, my voice flat but the weight behind the words was anything but.
Gavino frowned. "What?"
"The guy." My voice was low, controlled, but edged with something sharp. "The one I saw her with."
A beat of silence.
Then Gavino laughed, shaking his head. "You think I had be stupid enough to touch your wife? Jesus, Moretti. You are more wound up than I thought."
I didn't move, my pulse pounding. "Then who the fuck was it?"
"I don't know. I was with you the whole damn time." he said shrugging.
I didn't respond right away, letting the thought settle. He was right, he was with me when Alessa went to use the restroom.
Gavino studied me for a beat, then exhaled. "So what, you think she is cheating on you?"
I didn't answer immediately.
I had Marco on her every move. I checked her phone once, not that she knew and there was nothing suspicious.
"No" I said with a final tone.
Gavino snorted. "Then what is your problem?"
I didn't respond. Because I wasn't sure.
It was maybe Alessa only, ever since that night. I didn't recognize the man and I hadn't figured out who he was yet but she didn't tell me about him when I asked her. She didn't even mentioned it again.
And that pissed me off more than anything.
I knocked back my drink, letting the burn settle in my chest.
I leaned back against the booth, his gaze flicking across the dimly lit club before landing on a blonde across the room in a tight black dress. She had been eyeing me for the past fifteen minutes, her smile coy, her posture an invitation.
Maybe I could try Gavino proposal and see if that would help because my mind was too fucked up right now.
I met her gaze, tipped my chin slightly in her direction.
Her eyes lit up as she made her way over, her hips swaying deliberately. She slid onto my lap without hesitation, her arm looping around my shoulders as she pressed herself against me.
"I was wondering how long you had make me wait." She purred, fingers tracing the collar of my shirt.
I didn't say anything, just let her do as she pleased. Her lips found the side of my neck, warm and soft, moving lower. Her hand drifted over my chest, then lower rubbing against my cock through my pants.
Nothing.
Not even a twitch.
I let out a slow breath, my jaw tightening. My hands, which had been resting at my sides, moved to her hips. For a second, she took it as encouragement, shifting closer but then I spoke, my voice flat.
"Stop."
She pulled back slightly, her brows knitting together. "Did I do something wrong?"
I lifted her off me easily, setting her aside. "Just leave."
Disappointment flickered across her face but she didn't argue. With a huff, she adjusted her dress and sauntered away, likely looking for someone else to entertain her.
Gavino watched the whole thing, his smirk fading into something closer to amusement. "She is too deep in your head."
Too fucking deep.