8. Debrief
Chapter eight
Debrief
(Dante)
Afamiliar knock draws my attention to the door—three short taps.
I call Emilio inside my office, not bothering with formalities. “What do you have for me?”
The old man was supposed to have the day off today, but that was before my wedding turned into a war zone.
Our whole routine was out of whack. Even poor Biscotti had to—begrudgingly—put up with getting his breakfast served more than an hour late. I make a mental note to ask Dario to take over that responsibility.
Closing the door behind him, Emilio hesitates, looking at Danica and then at me. She’s not usually in our debriefing meetings.
Dressed in tights and a tank top like she’s about to go work out, no shoes, my bride sits on my desk like I don’t have at least four other chairs to choose from. I’ve long since stopped nagging her to conform to conventional seating suggestions.
“It’s okay. Danica wants to be here for this,” I reassure him. “Do you have an update?” I ask, my voice thick, assertive.
Emilio nods, continuing.
“Sì, Don mio. We had the crew in to clean everything up outside. The gardeners have fixed most the damage to the landscape,” the old man starts.
He looks tired, stressed. Usually, his crisp white shirts are impeccably ironed, but today, two creases tarnish the perfection—details too small for anyone to notice, but I’ve known Emilio for over three decades.
“You can sit down if you want, Emilio,” Danica offers, but the old guard shakes his head, declining.
“No, thank you, Miss Matthews. I’m okay.”
Danica visibly stiffens at the sound of her surname but doesn’t say anything.
I return my attention to my second-in-command, who’s been first-in-command more and more these days. Perhaps I’ve been relying too much on Emilio lately…“And casualties? What’s the damage?” I continue my questioning.
“We lost Carlo, as you know, and someone from the Greco family. Four more heavily injured and a couple of minor cuts and bruises.” Emilio lowers his head.
“Cazzo,” I swear under my breath as I clench my fists, my knuckles cracking loudly.
That whole ambush was so unnecessary. For fuck’s sake.
The responsibility weighs heavy on my shoulders. Part of me feels like I want to throw up, but that might just be the hangover. My body isn’t as resilient as it used to be. Danica swallowed down an Aspirin earlier and seems back to normal now. I’m not so lucky.
My neck is killing me, but I don’t tell Danica.
I don’t want her to worry.
It’s not the only thing in pain after yesterday’s ambush of what was supposed to be our dream wedding.
I’m clearly not as fit as I used to be.
I used to take blows way worse than that without so much as a bruise.
But I am 46 now; I need to be more careful with my body. Especially since I’ve been skimping on my workouts and can no longer rely on my muscles to work the way they used to.
How will I protect Danica if my body can’t be trusted?
The thought scares me more than a gun to the head.
“And on their side?” Danica asks, pulling my focus back to the debrief.
“Two dead and one captured,” Emilio reports. “The rest escaped.”
“Any luck getting the guy to talk?” I ask, despite knowing the answer.
“No, sir. We’re keeping him in the basement. He’s already a few fingers poorer, but we’ve got nothing.”
“Thanks, Emilio. Keep trying.” It’s hard to keep my voice steady, but I force it. “Do we have any idea who these guys are?”
“Sì. It’s the Volkov family. Russians. The Morettis had run-ins with them a while ago too.”
“I thought I heard some Russian yesterday,” Danica adds.
“The Russians?” I ask, trying to make sense of the information. That doesn’t sound good. Not at all. “Didn’t we deal with that problem decades ago already?”
“Sì, Don mio. It seems a new generation has taken power, and they don’t feel as strongly about boundaries as their predecessors. Don Moretti’s words were ‘young and reckless with no regard for any tradition or established turfs.’”
I sigh. This is the last thing I need. “That explains the stupidity of attacking such a high-profile wedding in broad daylight with so many of the families present.”
Emilio seems as restless as I am. “We’ve had them on our radar for a while, but I didn’t expect them to be so bold.”
“Why is this the first I hear of it?” my voice trembles with barely contained anger.
“Apologies, Don mio. You’ve been quite busy with the wedding, and I didn’t want to bother you.” Emilio lowers his head.
“I see.”
I know what he’s not saying.
It’s not Emilio’s fault.
We both know I’ve been neglecting my responsibilities lately, pawning it off to him.
I should have been on top of this.
“What do they want with us?” Danica’s journalistic skills are working overtime, as usual.
“The attack appears to be a challenge to the families,” Emilio explains. “The Volkovs are ready to expand their turf.”
“Drugs?” Danica asks.
“Yes, Miss M—,” he stops himself from saying her surname, “And human trafficking too.”
“How?” We had such a good handle on all the routes.
Trafficking was something the families never got involved in; we had an understanding.
Such a nasty business. Even my heartless father didn’t want any part of that.
Those were people’s daughters and sisters being shipped off as whores. It wasn’t right.
“We believe they have infiltrated the ports—if our sources are to be believed.” Emilio treads carefully, aware of the sensitivity around the issue.
“The ports? Fanculo!” I slam my fist on the desk, and Danica jumps—startled. Not the ports. Jesus.
It took so many years to negotiate a truce with the other families over the ports.
No one family could own it; it would give them too much power. So, we all agreed to leave it be, to keep people on the inside so we can move whatever we need quietly, discreetly.
With the ports compromised, all the families’ businesses are at risk, ours included.
I can’t do this all again.
Too many people died in that port war. My mother—
No, not now!
“I’m sorry, Don mio. I should have told you earlier. My sources weren’t sure, and I thought this could wait until after the wedding.”
“It’s not your fault, Emilio. I should have been more available.” I twist my rings, staring out the window. My head is still pounding, making it harder to think.
“We need to get these assholes. Strike while the iron is hot!” Danica jumps off the desk, fired up.
“No,” I reply immediately, shooting her a loaded look.
She arches an eyebrow in question. “No?”
“We should wait,” I say with certainty.
“What for? Those assholes killed Carlo. They ruined our wedding. You can’t just let them get away with it.” Danica crosses her arms over her chest, staring at me defiantly. Still my little firecracker, even after all this time.
“They won’t get away with it, don’t you worry about that.
But we would be stupid to move in immediately.
Not without more intel. We don’t know what they’re planning.
We’d be walking right into a trap. That’s what they expect us to do.
” My mind is racing, trying to put all the puzzle pieces in the right place for this all to make sense, but I don’t have enough of the pieces yet. Something still doesn’t fit right.
“The other families have expressed their willingness to work together for the collective benefit of all,” Emilio reports in his usual monotone.
“We can’t just do nothing. Who knows what they will do next?” Danica starts pacing around the room.
“Exactly. We don’t know what they want. I say we take a step back and let them make the next move, play their hand, and then we can make a more informed decision. If we storm in blind, the casualties will be too high. There is no need to take that much collateral damage.”
Danica doesn’t reply. She may be in charge of my body and my mind behind closed doors, but when it comes to the business, this is my world. I’ve been running this family for longer than she’s been alive. It is important not to make any rash decisions when playing with so many lives.
The loaded silence stretches on momentarily before Emilio clears his throat.
“What is it?” I ask, too short.
“Respectfully, sir. I don’t think we have the time. The other families wanted to meet immediately, but I managed to bargain for tomorrow evening instead.”
“Cazzo.” Damnit, Emilio. Always burying the lead.
“Apologies.” Emilio straightens out his shoulders. “I tried to put them at ease, but the Dons are offended and want this handled.”
I should have known the Dons would not take kindly to being crossed.
Fuck.
“Find out whatever you can before that meeting tomorrow, Emilio. Don’t we have informants at the ports?”
“I’m doing my best to get hold of them, Don mio.”
“Go.” I wave him off with the flick of my wrist.
What a royal mess.
“You’re being mean to Emilio,” Danica says as soon as the door is closed.
“I’m not,” I snap back, too loudly, rubbing my temples. “I’m just…frustrated.”
“We all are. You don’t have to yell.” Danica sits down on the couch, crossing her arms, a sullen look clouding her face. Instantly, I regret my tone.
“I’m sorry, Tesoro.” My expression softens as I take a seat beside her and pull her onto my lap. “Let me make it up to you.”
Slowly, I run my palm over Danica’s top. She isn’t wearing a bra, and her perky nipples press freely (and noticeably) against the tight fabric.
“And how are you going to do that?” she asks, uncrossing her arms. Finally, a full smile.
“When was the last time I ate you out on my desk?” I suggest with a wink. Some distraction would be welcome right now—for both of us.
“Like literally last week.” Danica laughs, shifting her ass on my lap. I know she can feel my burning erection beneath her, painfully hard for her as always, despite my injuries, despite the headache, the hangover.
“May I? Please?” My hunger for her is insatiable. Even after all these years. I could happily spend my days worshiping my Queen and doing nothing else. Instead, I have to deal with asshole Russians and dead wedding guests.
“You can’t just distract me with sex,” my bride insists, her resolve quickly fading.
“Can’t I?” I pinch a hard nipple through her shirt, and she gasps.
“Fair. Come here.” Danica pulls me closer by the hair, trapping my lips between hers as she hungrily kisses me until I’m gasping for breath.
Without asking for permission, I stick my hands under her shirt, caressing her breasts and pinching her nipples between my fingers, just how she likes it.
My bride doesn’t reprimand me, she just moans softly, purring into my neck like a cat who has gotten cream.
With my hands firmly under her ass, I get up and carry her to the desk, ignoring the protests of my body.
“My strong and sexy Don,” Danica rasps as she clings to me, her legs wrapping around my waist.
“Yes, Ma’am,” I reply, wildly scattering the contents of my desk onto the floor with one arm, clearing space on the large wooden surface to set her down gently.
Grinning mischievously, Danica pushes me away with her bare foot against my chest. “Kneel…boy.”
Her wish is my command, and despite every ache and pain burning through my body, I fall to my knees without so much as a second thought.
Please call me good…