Chapter 10 Enzo
The engine between my thighs roars, sending jolts like electricity through my body. The night zooms past, a blur of lights in my periphery. An intoxicating mix of metal music fills my helmet and drowns out the noises scratching at the back of my mind.
No matter how loud my surroundings, however, thoughts of her seep through like sand through my fingers.
Deep brown irises with hues of greens and blues behind a sexy pair of glasses, a seductively sweet and demanding voice, wide hips, and strong legs wrapped up in a black pencil skirt…fuck, the image makes me hard as stone.
But nothing will ever beat hearing those fucking lips whispering in Russian her hopes for my father’s demise…and calling him a dirty dick bastard.
I knew as soon as Rafael asked her to keep her service to the Angels a secret, she would. She hates Dante Alessi. Why? That’s a mystery yet to be solved. Well, call me fucking Scooby-Doo because I can’t wait to get to the bottom of why a doctor would take a position for a man she despises.
Sure, plenty of people tolerate horrid bosses, but that’s not our world. Our world boils down to one important principle—loyalty. Someone who’s disloyal takes a nice dirt nap, so why does Lucy Sinclair crave to see my father six feet deep? And does she also want to see my brother and I join him?
A vision of her, covered in blood and dirt after we bury my sperm donor, her riding my cock on top of his fucking grave…
fuck. The way I could beautifully break her, tears streaming down her cheeks as she cries out in pleasure and pain, unsure which she likes more.
God, I shouldn’t want someone who possibly wants me dead, but I’ve never claimed to be sane.
What a boring life it would be.
I adjust myself on my bike, my painfully hard dick meeting the gas tank in an unpleasant sandwich.
Yeah, without a fucking doubt, I will own Lucy Sinclair. Rafael will have to fucking deal. Although I hate to purposefully disobey his orders, Lucy will be an exception.
The light ahead of me turns red, and instead of shifting down, I creep closer to the handlebars, pulling back on the throttle. The rush of playing chicken with the intersecting cars curves my lips upward. When I pass through the red light, horns blare but I simply speed up.
Pussies.
There’s only one thing that could make this high more euphoric and that would be if I had my Little Doc on the back, her thighs gripping me, her arms clinging to the safety of my body.
A groan rumbles up my throat at the thought as I speed down the driveway to father’s house. The day our home overlooking the Puget Sound is finished can’t come soon enough. I’m crawling out of my skin to get out of the fucking depressing as shit mansion.
Clicking the button on my key fob, the garage door opens, and I pull in. Raf waits patiently, arms crossed, and I shut off my Ducati, resting it on its kickstand.
“Fratello,” he says disapprovingly as I remove my helmet. I shoot him my best don’t-shoot-me grin. “Father specifically requested our presence at nine sharp for negotiations with Alexander Baldwin.”
I shove my helmet into his chest as I walk by, the loud crash behind me tells me he’s tossed it. “I don’t give two flying squirrel fucks what Father and his pal Al are planning, Raf. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it later.”
My brother follows in my wake as we step into the elevator.
“You don’t handle shit, Enzo. I take care of negotiations, I turn clients, I keep our plans below Father’s nose.
” I roll my eyes and Rafael lets out a frustrated huff.
“Fratillino, I cannot do this…any of this, without you. Your presence, not behind me or in front of me but beside me, will be the only way we make it out alive.”
Uneasy is the head that wears the crown, but what would a king be without his brother? Mamma’s words filter through my mind, reminding me to chill the fuck out, but like my morning alarm, I hit the snooze button and decide attitude is the only acceptable response.
“Funny, I thought I didn’t do shit?” I sneer. The jealous little boy who always felt second to my brother rises to the surface, but I punch that little pussy fuck in the throat and forget he exists.
Raf adjusts his tie three times as we approach the main floor. When the elevator dings, he grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in, our foreheads meeting. “I need you, Enzo. I always have. Don’t fucking stray from me.”
Despite the burn in my chest at his sentiment, I push through the fluffy bullshit, backing away from him. “For fuck’s sake, you drama king, I’m with you.”
Rafael’s right though. I did fuck up by not being on time tonight. I let him down. If there’s one thing our defective daddy hates, it’s lack of punctuality. Which I happen to excel at. No wonder I was always the family disappointment. Yet, Rafael gets the brunt of our father’s wrath when I fuck up.
Walking into Father’s office, Alex Baldwin sits in the red leather chair across from the desk, puffing a cigar and dangling a whiskey glass by his fingertips.
“Boys.” Our father’s open arms welcome us but his vindictive glare pierces right through us. “Al, you remember my sons, Rafael and Enzo.” Al glances back, giving us a grin. “I do apologize for their tardiness.”
The broad-shouldered man with perfectly quaffed hair and a slimy grin stands, shaking Rafael’s hand. “Yes, how could one forget the infamous Devils of Seattle?”
When he extends it to me, my lip curls reflexively, practically salivating at the thought of ripping his throat out with my teeth. What can I say? The rumors are usually true when it comes to my reputation.
The douche canoe notices and clears his throat, looking to our father as if he would protect him.
My brother nods and seats himself in the chair next to the one Al vacated. “Mr. Baldwin, to what do we owe the visit?” he asks, collected, with an easy cadence.
Al pal sits, his stare nervously bouncing from my father to my brother. From my vantage point in the corner of the office, I can see each of their faces. Al’s two seconds from shitting a brick, my father licks his lips like the cat who got the cream, and Rafael’s expression is stone cold.
I twirl the blade between my fingers as Al glances at me nervously but does his darn best to keep his attention on my brother. “The matter concerns a future marriage between you and my daughter.”
“Natasha?” Rafael asks, leaning forward a bit more and resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers playing with his bottom lip.
“Yes, she’s been delaying giving me an heir, a grandson. As you’re aware, an empire as large and successful as the one my family has cultivated over generations cannot be passed to someone as malleable and weak as her, or…any woman, for that matter.”
Sexist Al pauses, glancing between Dante and Rafael again.
When neither responds, he continues, “She…had previous arrangements with another influential family, however, those plans have fallen through. She assures me she can repair the previous relationship, but I don’t like to have all my eggs in one basket. ”
Rafael waits, assessing the situation, probably calculating every pathway and avenue this agreement could take. “And Natasha is agreeable to a marriage?”
I scoff, drawing all attention but I keep my trap shut, knowing my opinion on the matter would not be welcomed.
Puffing his cigar, a Mayan based on its peppery scent, Al blows out a ring of smoke before answering, “The girl has no say in the matter, especially when it comes to her body and how she uses it. I’ve extended my grace beyond what was deserved.
She’ll do as she’s told, and when she’s given me what I’m owed, she’s yours to do with as you please. ”
My back teeth grind at his callous words—his disregard for her life, his daughter’s life, and well-being. If I ever have a daughter, which will never happen but still, she wouldn’t want for anything. She’d never even know what the sting of a sunburn felt like.
The small flexing and extending of Rafael’s fist tell me he’s as disturbed by this agreement as I am. “So, tell me, Alexander, I marry Natasha, we have a son. What makes you think I’m willing to give him to you? What is expected of Natasha when you have your heir?”
“The child will be yours as much as mine. He’ll be raised in whatever setting you deem fit. I’ll of course be involved to teach him about my empire and when I die, everything will be signed over to him.”
“And if you were to meet an…untimely death?” I finally speak up, envisioning what a delight that would be.
Al shudders. “If Natasha and Rafael are married and the child is still under the age of eighteen, everything will transfer to Rafael.”
Emerging from the shadows, I tap my knife against my jaw. “You didn’t answer the questions about Natasha.”
Al’s forehead glistens as he takes a large gulp of whiskey. “She will—”
“She will be mine,” Dante interrupts. “She will become an Angel, earn her keep at Cloud Nine.”
“She would be my wife.” My brother’s voice hardens, a slight growl edging the statement.
“And when you are the Don, you may do with her as you please. Until then, you have no say, Rafael. I take what and who I want. You would be wise to remember that,” Dante scolds and Rafael stands abruptly but doesn’t erupt like I know he wants to.
Man could hold a world record for the amount of restraint he has. Instead, he fixes his jacket, buttoning it and tucking his hands into his pockets. “And when should I expect to be wed?”
What he means is, how long do we have to save Natasha Baldwin?
Al pal relaxes a bit in his chair, but keeps his sneer locked on Rafael. He’s not stupid, even though he’s best buds with daddy dearest, he knows who the fuck’s in charge, if not in name but in everything else.
“She’s just graduated high school, and I’m in the best shape of my life. I’ll give her time to mend her previous relationship, but her clock is ticking. I’ll need you on standby for whenever I’m tired of her bullshit.”
Raf nods, moving to exit when Dante’s icy words halt our movements.
“I’m not a man who makes deals without pen to paper, however, we’ve been in business over a decade, Mr. Baldwin, so I’ll make an exception.
My son understands his duty, and I trust you will not back out on our deal since it was you who sought our assistance.
” Father leans over his desk, encroaching upon the man before him.
“However, if you leave me high and dry, and without an Angel, I will send in my devils. Do you understand?”
The pussy pales at Dante’s threat. “You have my word, Dante.”
Father glances at us, dismissing us with a silent nod and I couldn’t be more fucking grateful. If I spent a single second longer in this office with this piece of shit, I could not be held accountable for my actions.
As we walk down the hallway, I can practically see the cogs spinning in my brother’s Excel spreadsheet of a mind.
Doing what I do best, fucking with his functions, I clap him on the shoulder. “Congrats, Fratello, you just got a future wifey and I got myself a new toy.”
Raf glances my way, confusion written all over his less handsome face. Because I’m the nice twin, I elaborate, “Come on. Alex?”
Radio silence from my brother… And he’s supposed to be the smart one? Maybe something’s fucking with his head, making his brain all foggy.
Stepping in front of him, I walk backwards. “As soon as you’re hitched to Natasha dearest, I’ll be sent to take Al pal to hell’s door. You get the Baldwin empire…Father thinks he gets the empire. Duh.”
Clarity flashes in Raf’s stare, the slightest flare of his pupils, the plan clicking into place.
I would bet my left nut he wasn’t thinking that far ahead because in his mind, we won’t even get to that point.
He’s planning on stopping this train before it even stops at Wifey Street.
“Don’t forget to visit our favorite Doc after you beat your knuckles raw. ”
I leave him with a wink, off to find my own form of stress relief in the pits of HELL.