Chapter 10 Johan
CHAPTER TEN
JOHAN
Shit.
What a fucking brilliant time for Giovanni Bianchi to announce his recent ascension. Everyone knows what that means.
The trio of families that rule New York City only pass the mantle on via one tried-and-true method—death.
Laz became the don of the Ferraro Mafia after his father passed away a decade ago.
Just as Giovanni became the don when his father passed, which Lark has clearly ascertained now.
“When?” she demands, her eyes filling with tears. But they’re not ones born of sadness.
No, my brilliant little hacker is pissed.
As she should be.
“Six months?!” She sounds ready to kill her brother. “Why didn’t you tell me, Gio?” The first tear falls, and it takes everything within me not to reach out to wipe it from her cheek.
She does it for me, anyway, though. Her hand a furious swipe against her face as she scowls at whatever her brother is saying.
I lean against the car, still keeping the door open, and wait.
Tania makes an impatient sound from inside—she’s already in the driver’s seat—but I ignore her. She’s a good employee, one I’ve been friendly to because that’s my role in the pack. I’m the “nice guy.”
She’s always mistaken my kindness for flirting, though.
Lark set the record straight almost immediately, a fact that amuses me greatly. Her little possessive intervention made me want to grab her and kiss her.
But then her brother answered the phone.
“You still should have called me. I would have come home,” she tells him. Whatever he says back to that has her wincing in response, and a glimmer of doubt creeps into her features. Followed by guilt.
I’m not sure what he’s saying to her, but I don’t like it.
I’m two seconds away from taking the phone from her when she surprises me by holding it out toward me. “He wants to talk to Lazarus. Since he’s not here…” She trails off, her fierce tone from before no longer existent. Instead, she sounds defeated. Which I strongly dislike.
I gladly accept the device and say, “Talk to my omega like that again, Bianchi, and I won’t hold back the next time I see you.”
“Your omega?” Giovanni returns. “Your omega? Fuck, you’re just as bad as Ferraro!”
“In regard to my possessive feelings? Probably,” I admit. “So, how’s New Jersey?”
Silence transcends for a beat, Giovanni no doubt considering his options. I’ve known the alpha for a long time. As have Noah and Laz. We all went to private school together.
While the families might be competitors, they’re also allies in many ways.
That’s what keeps New York City from being taken over by any other syndicate—the Bianchis, Ferraros, and Riccis look out for one another where it counts.
“Where’s my sister?” Giovanni asks quietly.
Deciding that we’re a safe enough distance away, I decide to answer truthfully by giving him our airport name. “But we’re in the process of leaving,” I add. “We’re planning to have a late dinner at the Ferraro estate.”
It’s just after two in the morning, the flight from Colorado having taken three and a half hours. With the time change, our schedule is a bit out of sorts.
“Your pack will never get away with this,” Giovanni seethes.
“I believe we already have,” I tell him, then gesture with my chin for Lark to get in the car. “I’m handing the phone back to your sister now. But before I do, you owe the incoming jet a check.”
“A check?”
“Yes. They received word thirty minutes ago of a generous donation being made by the Bianchi Family Foundation.”
Giovanni’s growl causes my lips to twitch.
But it’s Lark’s expression that amuses me more. She’s staring at me like I’ve just given her the moon.
“The missive said the CEO was en route to meet them at the airport and to hand over the check personally. Oh, and several news agencies were copied in on the announcement.”
The growling turns to cursing.
“Now, I might not be a marketing guru,” I go on, “but I think it would look bad not to deliver on such a heartfelt promise, yeah?”
“You fucking—”
“I hope you wore something photo appropriate, Mr. Bianchi,” I interject. “I suspect the news vans will be arriving any minute now. Enjoy!”
I hang up before he can say anything else and hand the phone to Lark.
“Do you think your brother will adopt one of the animals?” I ask her conversationally. “Or does he travel too much?”
She simply stares at me.
Then huffs a laugh and shakes her head.
“My brother’s going to enjoy killing you,” she informs me as she slides into the car.
I follow as I reply, “He’s certainly going to enjoy trying to, yes. But I’m not an easy mark, Lark.” The car starts to move, prompting me to reach over and buckle my omega into her seat. I follow suit before changing the topic by asking, “Fancy anything specific for dinner tonight?”
The estate chef is waiting for my orders. She’s an older beta who loves to cook. She didn’t exactly enjoy being messaged at midnight with instructions to get the team together, but she’s used to our unique hours of operation.
And if she’s a little miffed, that sentiment will vanish when she meets Lark.
All Chef Harmony has wanted for years is a Mrs. of the household to dote on. A mafia queen, really.
That’s all any of us have desired, actually.
And Lark is the perfect one to fill that position.
If she’s willing.
Naturally, that’s the unknown of this equation.
“Honestly?” Lark sounds tired, but her eyes are bright as she gazes back at me. “Being in this part of the country just makes me want a proper pizza.”
“Want something flown in from the city? Because I can make that happen.”
She smiles and shakes her head. “I would be fine with whatever is local.” She frowns then. “Except I doubt anything is open.”
“Oh, Chef Harmony is a wizard in the kitchen. She can make anything happen.” I send a message to the woman in question, then add how I would really like a salad, too. “Want anything, Tania?” I ask, aware she can hear us just fine from the front seat.
Lark scowls beside me. “Oh, I think she made it quite clear what she wants.”
My eyebrows lift.
And Tania blows out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Ms. Bianchi. I didn’t realize you were his scent match. I promise, it’s nothing personal. And thank you, Mr. Greco, but I ate before coming to pick you up.”
I nod and inform the chef that pizza and a salad will suffice. Knowing Harmony, she’ll still whip something up for Tania. She’s her mother, after all.
“Don’t apologize,” Lark grumbles. “I just… I didn’t sleep well on the plane. And everything is… confusing right now.” I can’t see her cheeks all that well in the dark, but I suspect they’ve brightened with color.
It’s adorable.
She’s jealous.
Granted, if an alpha tried to touch her in front of me—one not part of our pack, anyway—I would kill him or her.
“And please call me Lark. Ms. Bianchi is my mother.” Lark frowns. “Gio didn’t tell me anything about her. Is she okay?” The way she asks it makes me wonder about her relationship with her parents, as she doesn’t sound particularly sad, just resigned.
“From what I’ve heard, your mother has relocated to Italy with your father’s former finance advisor,” I tell her.
“Bjorn?” Lark’s eyes widen. “Really?”
I shrug. “As I said, that’s what I’ve heard. There are ways I can find proof of it, if you’d like,” I offer, enjoying the idea of having something I can present to her as a gift.
But she shakes her head. “No. It’s fine. I was never very close to my mom. She…” Lark trails off, her lips twisting. “She spent most days in her nest, only leaving when her pack needed her for appearances or, uh, other things.”
Hmm. From her tone, I gather what she means by “other things.” Which makes me want to ask why those “things” weren’t done in her mother’s nest.
But I suspect that’s not a conversation Lark wants to have about her parents.
I’m also starting to think that however her mother was treated by her pack may have impacted Lark’s view on being a mafia queen.
That would explain her mother running off with Bjorn—who wasn’t part of her mother’s original pack. Her other two alphas have stayed behind to help Giovanni run the empire, similar to how Laz’s elders have remained to advise.
“I just hope she’s finally happy,” Lark adds in a quiet voice. “Or happier, anyway.”
“The offer stands,” I murmur. “If you want to know how she’s doing, I’ll find out.”
She nods. “Maybe I’ll call her instead. I don’t know. It’s been over a decade since we last spoke.”
“That’s a long time.” At least it feels that way to me. But my mom and I talk a few times a week. She’s always checking in. My dad, too. “Do you miss her? Or your father?”
Her lips twist. “I don’t know. It’s hard to miss a parent who was never really there.”
She turns her focus to the window, watching as the nightscape passes us by. There isn’t much to see since the moon is covered with clouds and the lights out here are minimal.
“Gio basically raised me,” she whispers.
“But our father wasn’t a bad alpha. He was like Lazarus, I guess.
A don. Always in charge. Always demanding something from someone.
” She shrugs. “It’s a big job. I respect it.
But I left for a reason.” Her brow furrows. “Rather, I didn’t return for a reason.”
I wait for her to say more, but she falls silent, her gaze still on the darkness outside.
So I decide to comment on something she said, something I feel needs to be clarified. “Having met your father, Lark, I can promise you—Laz is nothing like him.”
She scoffs at that. “You’re right. He’s worse, isn’t he?” She looks at me. “He’s pretty well known for his ruthlessness.”
“He is,” I concede. “He’s also passionate, loyal, and exceptionally strategic.
Your father was someone who expected everyone to bow to him and work for him.
Laz is someone who expects everyone to pull their own weight and work with him.
He’s not an authoritarian. He’s a leader. There’s a difference.”
She stares at me. “And you? What kind of alpha are you?”
I huff a laugh and shake my head. “Truthfully?”