Chapter 20
CAELIAN
I dump my gun on the table in the Dark Sovereign room.
Isaia cocks a brow, lifting his gaze from his phone.
“Fucker finally popped his ugly head out today,” I say.
“Aurelio?”
I nod. “Got word he was on Belucci property.”
“To see Giana?”
“Or her asshole father. I don’t fucking know.”
“You’re having her watched?”
I frown at him. “That has got to be the dumbest goddamn question ever . Of course, I’m having her watched. What do you take me for?”
“Do you want me to answer that?”
“Shut up.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t barge in there.”
I scoff. “Restraint seems to be my new fashion statement. It suits me well, don’t you think?”
He just stares at me, not buying the bullshit.
“I can’t risk doing anything that puts her or her brother in danger.” I pull a palm down my face. “God knows, my impulsive behavior has dug this hole deep enough as it is.” I pull out my cigarettes and light up.
“She still wants the divorce?”
I exhale smoke. “Yeah. And I have no more cards to play. If I make a move, Aurelio will kill baby Belucci, and Giana will never forgive me.”
Isaia leans forward. “You know if Alexius gives the order, we won’t have a choice but to make a move.”
“I’m well aware, little brother.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s like I’m getting fucked by the goddamn Kraken, motherfucking tentacles all over and up my ass. Jesus.”
I pour myself a drink, slamming it all back to take the edge off. If we kill Aurelio, we run the risk of his capos and soldiers retaliating, and odds are Giana and baby Belucci will get caught in the crossfire. Sit and do nothing, and I lose my wife to that goddamn psychopath.
I sigh. “What kind of father just sits by and lets his daughter marry some evil fucker after he called in a favor to help us stop it from happening in the first place?”
“I know you hate him, but?—”
“Loathe him. Despise him. Wish I could disembowel him.”
“He was our father’s best friend.”
“Their friendship died when our father did.”
“He’s not betraying us.”
“Isn’t he? That slime’s the kind to use whatever he can to get a good deal. And he doesn’t care about her.”
“Back to your Giana.” He gives me a pointed look. “The girl you don’t give a fuck about?”
“Yes.”
“That you’ve washed your hands of?”
I pull out another cigarette, just to play with it, and nod. “Absolutely.”
“And you won’t care if I take her for a ride.” He sips his drink, a smug expression on his face. “Right?”
“Do that, and your entrails will not only be outside your body but used to hang you with.”
He points at me. “Maybe you should go into murder as a side business. You and Davian will have so much fun together.”
“Only if it’s to do with Aurelio.”
Isaia grins then looks down. “Leandra called. Alexius is awake.”
My heart lurches. “Is he…?”
“Yeah. He’s okay.”
“Thank God,” I breathe. “Some good news for a change.”
“Doctors call it a remarkable recovery. And speaking of, where’s Alexius two-point-O?”
Nicoli saunters in. “The bigger and better version.”
I frown. “I see you’ve adopted his ego now too.”
“Gotta sell it, brother.” Nicoli straightens his suit jacket sleeves and looks at Isaia. “Leandra on her way back?”
“Yeah. Now that Alexius is awake and out of the danger zone, she’s agreed to play her part.”
“Wait.” I raise a hand. “What did I miss?”
“Enzo is in town,” Nicoli says.
“Enzo? Our Italian pimp?”
Isaia laughs.
“What the fuck is he here for?” I ask.
“To pick some new girls for Club Mito,” Isaia mutters. “Life is hard.”
“A new group of survivors arrived three days ago. Declan’s given them the all-clear, and Enzo requested some new faces for the club.” Nicoli grabs his phone, swipes across the screen, reads, then slips it back into his pocket. “Enzo also requested an audience, to pay his respects.”
I finish my glass. “Snoop.”
“He works for us, runs our club in Italy, so what’s so unusual about it?” Isaia looks at us both.
“Rumors seem to have crossed oceans,” Nicoli continues. “My guess is Enzo’s getting pressure from our Italian clientele, and he wants an audience with Alexius to put those rumors to rest.”
I scoff. “In other words, he’s here to check on us and see if we’re weak or hiding anything.”
Maximo appears at the door. “He’s here.”
“Send him in.” Nicoli straightens his jacket and nods toward me. “Welcome our guest. I feel like making him wait for Alexius.”
I look at my brother and smirk. “Showtime.”
Enzo’s been here for thirty minutes, checking out the place and talking about the girls he wants.
I let Isaia take the lead, having called Nicoli on my phone so he can hear the conversation. Isaia’s actually good at this, and we keep things friendly and casual. Business-friendly.
“Forgive me for intruding,” Enzo says, a good-looking guy in his late forties with silver threads in his hair. His suit is immaculate and his gaze misses nothing in the room, not that there’s anything for him to spy on. “My condolences on your mother’s passing.”
I nod, finally lighting the cigarette I took out earlier.
Enzo and Isaia have helped themselves to Alexius’s cigars. They’re not the Cuban ones, but they’re top quality. I’m not in the mood for the heaviness of a cigar.
“Thanks, but it’s life, you know?” I shrug and fill my lungs with tobacco.
“And Alexius? I trust he’s on the mend?”
I just smile. “You could have put your order in from Italy. We do, however, appreciate the visit.”
“I know the Italian sex market, which girls will do well there. You have quite the international selection, but some won’t cut it. No matter how beautiful. The Italian men can differ from the American -Italian in wants and expectations.”
“We’ve got a host of meetings at the club, and then you can enjoy the wares.” Isaia refills his Cynar, the Italian bitter apéritif of the amaro variety, a drink Alexius imports from a small maker in Venice.
“ Grazie .” He looks at us. “Alexius will be joining us, or is he too unwell?”
“Alexius is fine,” I say, not liking his tone. Silver-fox Italians annoy me.
Enzo hesitates for a moment, then speaks. “I’ll be frank.”
“Please.” I level him with a glare.
“The rumors are he’s unable to recover from the terrible shooting. After all, the culprit still walks. It makes you appear—in certain circles—weak.”
Isaia cuts me a sharp look, and I bite back my words.
“We do have a peace in Chicago,” Isaia says, “one we don’t wish to rock.”
He frowns. “I only mention it because some other business associates of ours are on edge. If Del Rossa falls, then deals are lost and people will be left scrambling to make the right alliances. And this Le Fonti character is making waves.”
“He’s a piece of shit and a coward.” The words slip out—but it feels fantastic to say it out loud.
“I do not want the Dark Sovereign to be seen as vulnerable,” the man says with his thick Italian accent, sipping his drink, his gold wedding band glinting. “It is very bad for business.”
“So is indulging in gossip,” Nicoli says as he strolls in wearing his best impression of Alexius—all steel and control.
Enzo stands out of respect. “Alexius. It’s good to see you looking so…healthy.” He reaches over to shake his hand.
My brother hesitates for a perfect amount of time and then shakes. “I’m glad I can assist in putting all these rumors to rest.”
“I meant no disrespect.”
I love watching our Italian pimp squirm. It amazes me how Alexius—or Alexius version two-point-O—can make a grown man shrink with just a few clipped words.
“My mother died, and I had to deal with that. Mourning is to be respected, as you know.” Nicoli dumps an iPad in front of our Italian visitor, helps himself to Alexius’s favorite drink, and goes to sit behind his desk, looking every part the fucking king.
He gestures toward the iPad, staring at Enzo. “Take it. Bookmark the girls on there, and we can arrange for you to meet them tonight. Usual rules apply. If a girl doesn’t wish to relocate, that’s her choice.”
“Last time, three of my choices didn’t want to relocate. Such a pity.” Enzo’s tone suggests he’d like us to bend the rules a little, and Nicoli picks up on it immediately.
Leaning back in his seat, he rolls his hands together in front of him. “You know how it works. We save the girls, and whatever happens with them after is up to them. With us, they’re given choices. Don’t like how we do things, I suggest you find yourself another job.”
Enzo holds up his hands. “No need. I’ll browse the catalogue.”
For the next twenty minutes, they discuss the girls, what the Italian men are looking for, which sounds pretty much like what most of the punters here want. Hot, pliant, and very willing. But I can see the girls he chooses. Blondes with big tits, a couple of redheads with big tits, and brunettes…with big tits. Cliched picks for horny fuckers all around the world.
When he returns the iPad to Nicoli, he flicks through it, then sends the selection to the club.
Enzo glances around. “Is Nicoli joining us?”
Isaia looks at me, and I narrow my eyes, but Nicoli handles it. “My brother’s in Italy with his wife. I know he’s been handling club business for a while, but you requested to see me, so here I am.”
“Alexius,” Enzo says, “this man who shot you.”
“Aurelio,” I grit.
Enzo nods. “I understand peace and keeping the status quo, but surely?—”
“Know your fucking place, Enzo,” Nicoli warns in his best Alexius fucked-off voice. “He threatened our wives, one of them pregnant. Aurelio won’t get away with a thing, but revenge has layers, repercussions. I will deal with this my way, in my time.”
“I’m sorry, but people get nervous. There are so many deals and reputations on the line.”
Nicoli doesn’t answer straight away, and then he finally meets the man’s eyes. “If you or your concerned parties wish to dissolve our arrangements, they can. But know that if they don’t stand with us, they stand against us.” Then he throws back his drink and stands. “Club Myth, gentlemen?”
I start to stand but Enzo doesn’t. “Where’s your wife? Leandra? I wish to greet her.”
The tension suddenly ratchets up in the room, and I don’t move.
Nicoli does.
He leans forward and gives Enzo the full blast of the Alexius glower—the look that’s helped my brother broker, negotiate, conquer. “Do not play this game with me, Enzo. My wife is not for you to lay to rest the ridiculous rumors that have your panties in a bunch.”
“Good evening, Enzo.” Leandra appears at the door, wearing an emerald-green butterfly-sleeve, ruffle trim, asymmetrical hem dress, her hair styled in an elegant updo. This woman wears sophistication like a crown, her shoulders cloaked with confidence that can only come from being a Del Rossa wife.
Enzo smiles and stands, taking her hand, and places a chaste kiss on the top. “Mrs. Del Rossa. You look ravishing.”
“Take it down a notch, Enzo,” Nicoli warns, playing his part to perfection.
Enzo smiles. “I’ll be in town for a few days. Looking forward to catching up.”
A few days later, our Italian pimp leaves, and we breathe a small sigh of relief. He stayed long enough to force Leandra and Nicoli into two lunches and a fancy dinner with him. Isaia and I joined them every time, silently backing Nicoli in case something slipped.
While they acted as husband and wife, a part of me worried that they wouldn’t be able to sell it. They don’t have that magic, that thing that exists with Alexius and Leandra. But Enzo works for us, so I don’t think he looked that closely.
I hoped he went home, his cock no doubt more than polished by the girls at Club Myth, to report all was good in Chicago—that the Dark Sovereign and its leader were stronger than ever.
More importantly, when a strike came—and it would—the man responsible for threatening women would go down. That’s how Nico framed it, not Alexius taking a bullet, but the fact that Aurelio threatened women.
I sit on my sofa and stare at the new divorce papers and smoke. “Fuck. Fuck it all.”
Dumping them, I pick up my phone and go to Giana’s name. New York. That’s her name on my phone. I want to call her, tell her I know what we can do with these papers—exactly what we did with them last time.
I drag air into my lungs as my thumb hovers over the screen. It would take nothing to type her a message.
Taunt her.
Try to make her text me back, to establish that contact I’ve been missing so damn much. That’s all I need, just another opening, an opportunity to smash through the walls she’s built. But what’s that going to achieve?
She hasn’t left her family estate. And now that I’ve got my men on alert to let me know if Aurelio even dares put his nose within a five-block radius of her address, there’s less reason than ever to contact her.
She said her piece. I said mine.
I rub the sore spot on my chest, a spot inside where it aches.
Who invented love, anyway? And why didn’t they finish the job, install an off-switch or a goddamn delete button? Backspace. Control, alt, delete. Just something to make it go away. What I’ll do for a black screen of death right now.
Someone thumps on my door. I’m about to tell Isaia to go fuck himself when he opens the door and saunters in. “You ready?”
“Hello to you, too. Hey, listen, ever think it might be your manners hindering your chances of getting a girlfriend?”
“Says the one staring at his divorce papers like a forlorn teenager having his first heartbreak.”
I get up, straighten my tie, and pull on my suit jacket. “Maybe that’s why the only girl you’re in a relationship with is your yellow monstrosity of a car.”
“You can talk.” We glare at each other, and I smack the back of his head. He returns the favor.
I’m debating fighting him when Nicoli and Leandra appear. Nicoli scowls. “When you two are done pissing on one another, we need to leave.”
“Remind me why I need to go to this thing.”
Leandra threads her arm through mine. “It’s a fundraiser. We need to be seen as a unit.”
“See,” Isaia chimes in, “she gets it.”
I want to tell him how many times he can go screw himself until he’s bent sideways when Leandra squeezes my arm. “Alexius is getting better, by the way. I’ll let you know when you can see him.”
Oh, fuck, now she’s scrambling my heart like it’s a damn egg. I stop on the landing. “Leandra, I’m sorry for being a dick.”
“And I’m sorry for what I said. I just…” She raises her head. “He’s my life.”
“I know. We all know that.” For the first time, as I hug her, jealousy claws at me. I don’t want her. I don’t look at her like that. But I want what they have—she and Alexius. Something so profoundly deep and undeniable, a bond that's as reliable as gravity and as fierce as the sun. I long for it with an ache that's bone-deep—but I only want it with one person. New York.
Christ.
I release her, and we head down. I’m doing everything I can to push back this darkness I’m feeling, trying to ignore the emptiness that aches.
How does that even work? How can something that’s empty ache? It’s like goddamn voodoo, and some fucker is just nailing that little Caelian doll with all the sharp needles he can find.
I join in the banter in the car as we head to the glittering private club that’s got a fundraiser tonight to save the orphaned polar bears or something. We always donate, take part, but behind the scenes this is a ‘who’s-who’ shindig. An event for every corrupt asshole to show their faces. And there are deals to be done, palms to grease, and alliances to check on.
For us, it’s so ‘Alexius’ is seen.
There’ll be enough people that it’s not an obvious fanfare moment, but I know it’ll be watched closely. And as far as the world knows, Alexius has had a few in-person meetings and has overseen some shipping concerns with Gabriel.
Overall, he’s been seen enough to kill the rumors, but we’re just being thorough. And judging by all the eyes on us when we walk in, I’d say it’s working. It’s also working on my nerves because I’d rather be home having a heart-to-heart with a very expensive bottle of bourbon to drown my emptiness in.
But instead, I’m stuck here forced to act like my heart isn’t currently hanging on the outside of my chest.
We hit the main room, and after making small talk here and there, I head for the smoking room when my skin lights up like electricity races through it.
Something compels me to look to the bar, and what do you know? The universe has decided to, yet again, penetrate me anally while I’m bent over a barrel of are-you-fucking-kidding-me?
Aurelio, aka the motherfucker, is standing there with a smug grin on his ugly face, and he’s squeezing a perfect ass of a perfect brunette whose hourglass figure is just…perfect. Jesus.
“Giana,” I murmur, my voice raspier than death on a dry day. I’m already snarling like some animal about to lose his catch to some sneaking interloper. I start to storm toward them when Isaia grabs my arm.
“Calm down, brother.”
“Unless you want your intestines pulled out of your throat, I suggest you let go of me.”
“This is not the time or the place.”
“Isaia, I swear to God.”
“Just…wait,” he grits, and I watch them at the bar.
Frank Corletto, the ugly dude Aurelio’s talking to, a man of quick, dirty schemes and the sort of deals we don’t mess with, points across the room to a bunch of his cronies, and Aurelio leans close to Giana, whispers something, and then leaves.
“It’ll be a no wives, whores, or girlfriends kind of meeting,” Isaia states. “My guess is you’ll have about twenty minutes.” Then he lets go of me, and I make my way to her, not wasting a single second.
The dress she’s wearing is too tight, too short, and I know before she turns it’s too low cut. It’s tacky. Slut-style. It looks spectacular on her in a “for-Caelian’s-eyes-only” kind of way, which is why I’m slipping off my suit jacket as I head to the bar and immediately place it over her shoulders.
“Hey, what the—” She turns. Stills like she’s seen a ghost. “Caelian.”
“Hey, New York.”