16. Ares
Ares
Ireturn from a three-day trip to Las Vegas aggravated.
With Lourdes out of my sight for several days, I feel ready to jump out of my skin.
The visit was unavoidable. The Borgias, led by Don Nico Scava, are rising as the dominant Cosa Nostra in the United States.
I met with Scava to discuss the Aurelian and what it will represent.
He didn’t seem too impressed, sitting in his billion-dollar hotel, like he might try to make the Millennium Plaza the center for all mafia leaders.
He will understand soon enough that I plan to control where and when deals are made.
On the way home from the airport, I get a call from Atlas that David Sinclair is at Club Wicked asking to see me. So I reroute my driver to deal with him face-to-face once and for all.
“Where is he now?” I ask Atlas when I get settled into my office at the club.
“He’s bothering the servers and floor managers, asking for you.” My brother stands there, annoyed. “This guy is your new assistant’s husband?”
“Correct.”
“Are you fucking her?” he asks, leaning against the door frame. “I don’t care. Just tell me.”
“I’m not fucking another man’s wife,” I say sternly. “Daria did the standard background check on Lourdes. Her husband lit up enough red flags to start a stampede.”
“Ignoring him is the answer?”
“Oh, I have something to say to him. Bring him to my private lounge in one hour. And tell him he has precisely five minutes with me, not a second more.”
When Sinclair enters the lounge, he swaggers in like I asked to see him. I remain seated on a leather wing chair and just glare at Sinclair until it suffocates the confidence he waltzed in here with.
“Close the door on your way out, Atlas,” I tell my brother.
“Are you sure, Ares?”
I narrow my eyes at my brother for a response. Atlas leaves and Sinclair rocks on his heels.
“About fucking time.” He tries to act tough.
“I’m a busy man, Mr. Sinclair,” I say smoothly, keeping an index finger against my cheek. “What do you want?”
“A favor.”
I scoff, “You think you’re entitled to a favor?”
“I don’t know what your angle is with my wife.” Without an invitation, he takes a seat opposite me in a small wooden chair not built for comfort. “She seems to think she means something to you.”
“She does mean something to me.” I stare him down. “And you better watch it or—”
“I asked around about you, Zervas. You don’t do relationships.”
“Your wife is my employee.” I tighten my jaw. “Nothing else. And I had you checked out, too. You don’t actually have a job. If you’d like to keep a roof over your head, one that your wife pays for with money I pay her, I suggest you don’t aggravate or provoke her boss.”
“I’m not here to aggravate you.”
“I’m aggravated by what you’re doing to her. You think your abuse makes you a man?”
Sinclair shifts in his seat. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen her bruises.” I try to contain myself.
“She’s clumsy. Hurts herself for attention.”
“I told her, and now I’m telling you, that if I see one more bruise, one, you’ll get a visit from someone you will never forget.
” I stand up. “I hired your wife to accompany me to meetings and greet my guests. An assistant with a black eye hurts my business. If I see one more bruise, I will make you look ten times worse.”
David looks down at his hands. “Our marriage worked for a while, but then it didn’t. But I’m involved in something, and I need her.”
“Need her?” The air in the room shifts, and I consider the branding. “I need you to be more specific.”
He studies me, calculating whether to press forward, and then he does. “She’s the only one who knows where the money is.”
“Money?” I inquire with quiet patience, thinking he knows she stole from Nathan Craig.
I take out my phone and dial Daria, but keep the phone on mute.
Sinclair smiles, proud he could surprise me. “Her father worked for Yuri Volkov in Chicago.” He tells me what I already know. “Money is missing. I assume her father had a hand in that. But he’s dead.”
I keep my face even. “Why is that important to me?”
He sits back and crosses his legs. “Kirill Volkov will reward me handsomely for that information.”
“And she knows where the money is?” I ask, bracing myself.
“She’s very vague when I ask her questions about her father.” He shakes his head, angry.
I pretend to take him seriously. “And where would this information be?”
“I don’t know.” David shrugs. “Probably hidden somewhere in Chicago.”
Is that what Lourdes was stealing money for? To go back there…
“If I don’t help you?” I’m not helping him.
“Kirill will take her. Do things to her until she talks. You seem to like my wife.”
“I more than like her. Which is why this conversation is rapidly becoming hazardous to your health,” I threaten. “Do you even realize the position you are in? Standing in my way of having her?”
His eyes narrow. “You’re making a mistake.”
“You’ve made your last mistake.”
David stands and shakes his head. “I’ll give you time to think about it. She’s not worth going against Kirill Volkov.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Now leave.”
“I’ll be back here. Every night, Zervas.” He rubs the tattoo on his neck. “Until you give me what I want.”
I hope he wants a bullet in his head because that’s what he’s going to get.
Sinclair backs up into the security team that is always waiting outside this lounge when I have a meeting. By the time my door closes, I’m shaking with rage.
I unmute my phone. “Did you hear that?”
“Sure did,” Daria says, sounding intrigued. “What are you going to do?”
“We have to eliminate him immediately.”
“And the missing Bratva money?”
“Yuri would have taken Lourdes by now,” I say if this were true.
“David sounded convinced.” Daria challenges me. “He went to you as an alternative to the Bratva.”
Am I so blinded by how much I want this woman?
“If Sinclair hands Lourdes over to Kirill, then he’s out a wife and the money. David thinks he can sell her.” I grow livid every second. “But only if he knows where the money is first.”
“What are you going to do, Ares?”
Smiling, I say, “I already reached out to Rhys Quinlan. I’ll put Lourdes under one of my contracts when Sinclair is dead and make her tell me herself.”