Chapter 17
COSIMO
Music pounded outside the main office. The sound-dampening material Rom had installed inside the walls of Black Silk only partially muffled it.
“I’ve sent the stills from the security cameras at the cemetery around town,” Rom said, propping his feet up on the table.
“No hits on the biker yet. One photo got his profile, but it’s too blurry to really see anything.
Most of the time, he’s either got his helmet on or his hood up, and he’s looking away from the cameras the entire time, which means he knew where they were. ”
So he’d come prepared.
I scrubbed my palm against my jaw. Showing up at the graveside was a daring move.
If that biker was a Santoro, he’d put himself within range of a few dozen armed men who would’ve been happy to dump him in the ground beside Dad.
At first, I’d thought it was some kind of reckless gamble on his part, but no. He’d known exactly what he was doing.
Alessio scratched a bandage on his forearm. “Have you checked the traffic cams?”
“Yeah. We got a partial plate, but we’re still running it through the system.” Rom frowned and reached for his Coke. “I thought we’d have more by now, to be honest.”
“It’s only been a week,” Les said, peeling at the label on his beer.
“Week and a half,” Rom corrected. “The longer we have nothing, the colder the trail will get.”
My gaze drifted toward the rows of security monitors mounted on the wall. Rom had this entire place covered, including the VIP booth where Fabiana and her friends were currently getting shit-faced.
“We could get the capos involved,” Rom said. “Cast a wider net.”
Annoyance pulsed at my temples as I watched Fabi knock back another shot. Hadn’t she had enough by now? I’d counted five already. She and her friends were in the middle of a drinking game where she appeared to be doing ridiculous dares and taking a shot whether she completed them or not.
I’d watched her slip behind the bar and lean in too close to some long-haired bartender who’d held her gaze a second too long. He was unaware that tonight was his last shift.
I’d watched her talk a bunch of men into autographing her arm, every one of them far too pleased about it, and wondered why Messero’s bodyguards hadn’t knocked their teeth down their throats.
I’d even watched her climb into one of the cages hanging from the ceiling and put on a gyrating little show that made my cock ache and my mood turn foul.
Needless to say, I was on edge. My innocent Nettle turned into a fucking menace the second tequila hit her bloodstream.
“Earth to Cosimo. Are we having a conversation, or are you too distracted creeping on your fiancée?”
I tore my gaze from the screen. I wasn’t creeping on her. I was monitoring the goddamn situation. “We can’t involve the capos. If we do, it’ll get back to Vita. She already claims to know more than us, so the last thing I want is to give her insight into our investigation.”
“The capos are getting restless,” Alessio said, finishing the last of his beer. “They’ve got an itch that’ll only be scratched by vengeance.”
“I told them they need to stay focused on keeping the business running,” I muttered. They’d keep doing what they were told as long as they still believed me to be the next don. “The wedding should help with morale.”
“It will,” Rom said. “And it’ll send a message. Not just to our family, but to everyone watching—political contacts, business partners, the media.”
On the monitor, I saw Fabiana had just pulled another card from the stupid hat of dares I wanted to throw in the trash.
“You should take Fabiana out a few times in the next few weeks,” Rom was saying. “Somewhere public. Reinforce the alliance.”
I squinted at the screen. What now? Judging by her expression—and the way she was shaking the card at her friends in that tiny, furious fist—she was not pleased with whatever was written on it.
“Cosimo, seriously?”
I focused back on Rom. “Just taking a quick look.”
“You’ve been taking quick looks for the last two hours,” Alessio said.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Since you’ve suddenly developed ADHD, why don’t we just turn it off?” Rom reached for the remote on the table.
I snatched it before he could. Rom arched a brow.
My jaw clenched. “All of your suggestions depend on Fabiana actually making it to the wedding. Given her current state, I’m not confident she will. Look at her. She’s wasted. Someone’s got to keep an eye on her.”
“Yeah,” Rom said. “Which is why I have a security team. I also have the head of security in the room next door monitoring everything happening in my club.”
“He’s one guy with one pair of eyes,” I said. “He’s probably busy watching some drunken idiots start a fight. Who knows how much attention he’s actually paying to the VIP area?”
Alessio rubbed his thumb against his temple. “And the four bodyguards Messero sent with them are doing what exactly? Providing ambiance?”
I crossed my arms. “I don’t know those guys. Who the fuck knows if they’re any good.”
Rom linked his hands behind his head. “Right. Messero definitely sent his precious wife, his sister, and her closest friends here under the protection of four useless pricks. Makes sense. Doesn’t it, Les?”
“Look, I’m tired. It’s almost three in the morning,” Alessio said with a yawn. “Are we having this meeting, or are we done? Because if we’re done, I’d like to go home and sleep.”
“We’re having the meeting,” I snapped. “What else?”
Rom rubbed his chin. “Lisa has all but disappeared off the face of the earth. If this biker guy doesn’t lead anywhere... It’s not looking good. We haven’t gotten any other leads on the Santoros.”
“What about Morales?” I asked. “He was taking money from them. He has to know something.”
“He’s in police custody right now,” Rom said, “which makes him somewhat inaccessible.”
Fabiana was still staring at that slip of paper, biting her bottom lip as if weighing her options. If she was thinking this hard in her current state, whatever was written on the card was probably going to make me homicidal.
Rom sighed. “Here we go again.”
I grabbed the remote and hit the zoom button, trying to make out the words on the paper. “I thought you said your equipment’s top of the line.” Top of the line my ass. The zoom either got stuck or the resolution went to shit. I couldn’t see a goddamn thing when the image was this grainy.
“Yeah, top of the line five years ago,” Rom said. “Should I remind you who refused my last budget proposal to upgrade the security system?”
That had probably been me. “Send it again.”
I switched to a different camera and tried to zoom in from another angle.
“You see this, Les? It’s all about managing costs until he wants to stalk his fiancée in HD.”
Now the goddamn button on the remote was stuck. I jammed my thumb into it until it popped back up.
Zoom. Just a little more.
The image blew up into dark, useless static. I tossed the remote down. “This is absurd.”
“What’s absurd is you expecting any security system to show you what’s written on a tiny piece of paper inside a fucking nightclub.” Rom got up and headed for the bar cart.
“She’s drunk,” I said. “Thanks to your girlfriend, by the way.”
Les yawned. “I think if anyone’s to blame, it’s the purple-haired one. She seems to be instigating most of this. What’s her name again?”
“Here.” Rom tried to hand me a tumbler of whiskey. “Have a drink. Relax.”
I waved him off. “I don’t want it.”
Hold on. What the fuck was she doing now?
I leaned closer to the screen.
Was I imagining it, or was she taking a selfie?
And not just any selfie. She was leaning forward, making her lips all pouty, giving the camera a look that she had no goddamn business giving anyone.
A hot, ugly feeling twisted low in my gut. She was my fiancée. Was she so drunk she’d forgotten that?
Rom took a sip of the whiskey he’d poured for me. “Interesting.”
My fists clenched. “That’s not the word I’d use.”
I watched her tap on her phone. Watched her flash it to her friends as proof she’d done the dare. Watched her move past them toward the bathroom, one of the guards trailing after her.
“What did that look like to you two?” I asked.
“Looked to me like your fiancée just sent someone a very sexy picture,” Rom drawled.
“Les?” I barked.
“I’m half asleep.” He headed for the door. “I’m going home. If you need somebody handled, send a text, and I’ll deal with it in the morning.”
No. He didn’t need to handle anyone.
I was going to handle whoever had gotten that photo myself.
Rosa had said there were no ex-boyfriends. When she’d downloaded the contents of Fabiana’s phone, she’d found a deactivated dating profile and a few messages that implied she’d gone on some dates a while back. Was it one of those guys?
We’d never discussed whether or not we could see other people while we were engaged and married, but I thought it was fucking obvious.
“Okay,” Rom said, sounding far too amused, “you need to take a deep breath.”
“You think this is funny? What the fuck is so funny?”
“Before you work yourself into a jealous rage, maybe check your phone. It buzzed a few moments ago.”
What?
I glanced around. “Where is it?”
Rom slid it across the table toward me. I snatched it up and unlocked the screen.
One message from Fabiana.
I opened it.
My anger vanished so fast it left me dizzy. I dragged my palm over my mouth and let out a low breath.
Fuck. Me.
For once, Nettle looked far from innocent. Her expression was sultry, her lips parted, and her tits— Fuck.
I zoomed in on the tiny sliver of black lace peeking out from under her dress and felt blood rush down.
My thumb hovered over the screen for half a second before I hit save.
A moment later, the photo vanished from the chat. She’d deleted it.
Oh, she probably thought she was so fucking clever.
“Too late,” I typed.
Not smart, a voice inside my head advised. You agreed on certain rules for a reason.
Yeah, well, if tonight had confirmed anything, it was that we hadn’t established nearly enough of them, which meant we needed to have a conversation. And I wasn’t going to wait.
“I’m going downstairs,” I said, getting to my feet.
“Uh-huh,” Rom said. “So is the meeting over or…?”
I didn't bother answering him. Couldn’t. The sound of the door slamming behind me joined the pulsating beat of the music and my pounding heart.