Chapter Twenty-Three
Stefano
“YOU’RE REALLY PULLING THE plug on the deal with the Kims?” Lorenzo asks. “After all that work you threw into making it happen?”
“That’s what the due diligence dinner was for, Lo. Final impressions.”
As the sun bleeds orange over the horizon, I cruise the golf cart through Staff Valley south of the villa.
“The Kims weren’t upfront and dragged out negotiations, played it like they were doing us a favor.
Now we hold the cards.” I swerve the cart around in a cul-de-sac.
“The partnership will happen. On our terms. Just not right now. We can’t be anyone’s savior while we’ve still got our own shit to deal with. ”
Lorenzo and I are on one of our random villa patrols, scanning for anything out of place.
We run these sporadically to catch people off guard.
Over the years, we’ve stumbled on some gnarly shit on these patrols, that either leave us laughing for days, grossed the fuck out, or pissed off.
Either way, it’s a random little ritual for Lo and me.
But today, I’m up to no good. Lorenzo didn’t feel like making the rounds, but I forced him into it anyway. For my own selfish reasons.
I’m not always a good sibling.
“So Raya just looked at the car and knew it had a trembler?” he asks, for the third damn time. “That girl’s unreal.”
“And yet you still trust her,” I say. “Still keeping her under your protection when it’s clear she’s a fraud.”
He shoots me a frustrated glance. “Fuck’s sake, man. You either hate her or you want her. Pick one, because I can’t keep up with your shit.”
Why can’t it be both?
We loop back toward the main road. “Luca brought in new girls from Vivienne last night, right?”
“Oh yeah. Three,” he says. “Two of them, sisters, are fucking Grade A smoke-shows. Def gonna reel in the regs and bring in solid cash.”
“Gio seen them yet? He can take them to Black Gold tonight.”
“No idea.”
“Tell him to go check them out.”
He throws me a side-eye. “What, you’re hoping he’ll see them and forget about Raya?”
“Just speeding up the inevitable.”
He shakes his head. “How am I the only mature one these days? It’s insane.”
“You’re one to talk.” I scoff. “You’ve been creeping on that cop’s daughter for, what, years now? And still haven’t made a move. At this point you’re just a Peeping Tom with your dick in your hand, watching her fuck other dudes.”
First seed planted...
“Go fuck yourself, asshole.”
“I quite enjoy doing that, so I will.” I flash him my palm. “Thanks for the reminder.”
We park outside the Laundry House and pop in. Run a quick inspection, have a few words with the staff, then head out again.
“You don’t think we need some younger hands in there?” I ask.
“That’s discrimination. Ageism.”
For shit’s sake. See, this is exactly why I’ve stepped back from these staffing decisions.
All these ‘isms’ and ‘ists.’ I don’t give a shit.
I do what I want, and anyone who doesn’t like it can walk.
But Lorenzo’s taken up with Gio’s bullshit “empathetic” approach lately, listening to these people’s whining and bitching, catering to their “feelings” and worrying about morale.
Like what the fuck do they think this place is?
Not me. Never me. And I give it another month before Lorenzo burns out on it, too. His patience is much thinner than mine, his fuse way shorter. I’ll have my psycho twin back soon enough.
I steer the golf cart onto the straightaway leading to Brioso Hubb. Finally. The real reason I dragged his ass out here today.
A strange, unwelcome heat spreads through my chest when I spot her. Raya. In the middle of a group of men playing pool out on the deck, laughing and having fun. My collar suddenly feels too damn tight. I tug at it.
I hate it. All of it. I want her smiles to belong only to me. Her eyes only on me. Why does she evoke this possessive madness in me?
Lorenzo slows. “Wait, is that Raya?”
“Looks like it.”
“What the fuck’s she doing in there? And what’s with the getup?”
“That’s where she spends most of her free time. She’s tight with the Uppers.” I slide him a glance. “You didn’t know?”
Second seed planted…
He presses the pedal and the cart jerks forward.
I sit up straighter. The more worked up he gets over her being in there, the more excited I become.
Plan’s working like a charm.
Lorenzo brakes hard outside Brioso Hubb, hops out, and stomps up the paved steps.
All but grinning now, I take my time stepping out of the cart and trail him inside.
Activity slows the moment we walk in. Nods and chin jerks tossed our way. Nervous looks and worried glances exchanged.
All the wary eyes are trained on me, of course. Bracing for a storm. Expecting me to barge in and be the monster.
I slip my hands into my pockets and maintain a neutral stance, to show I’m not here to wreck the mood. Not today.
Lorenzo, on the other hand…
As he heads straight out to the deck where Raya’s in the midst of Uppers, I hang back and lean against the doorframe.
“What’s up, boss?” one Upper asks, glancing between us. “Something wrong?”
Raya’s actively ignoring us. Her small frame drowning in fabric like a goddamn vagabond. Oversized shirt, baggy pants and boots. Her usual getup for Brioso Hubb. All of it working overtime to downplay the heat she carries.
Doesn’t work. All that material swallowing her does nothing to quell the unrelenting heat flaming in my chest. Just seeing her sets me on fire.
Who the fuck is she and what the fuck is she doing to me?
“Just patrolling,” Lorenzo says steadily, eyes locked on Raya. “Last I checked, women weren’t exactly welcome in here.”
Go on, brother. Ream them out for harboring her here. Kick her out. Ban that little snake from hanging around them.
“What do you me—oh, you mean RayRay?” the Upper asks, then laughs. “Nah, RayRay’s different. We like having her around. She’s a beast at pool, and she brings good vibes, you know?”
“Hmm.” Lorenzo rubs his jaw. “That’s all there is to it?”
The men exchange uneasy glances. “What’re you tryna ask us, boss?”
Lorenzo shifts focus and asks Raya directly, “Why’re you wearing a scarf in this dry ass heat?”
My smug satisfaction falters. Shit. I’m so used to her hobo getups that I didn’t even register the scarf. Tied around the neck I strangled two nights ago.
Are there bruises? Two days should be enough time for them to fade, right?
This might still play in my favor, though. No way in hell she’ll drop my name. That would screw whatever cover she’s built with these guys.
“I have the chills. Think I’m coming down with something.” She coughs. “There’s a bug going around.”
She lies so easily. So effortlessly. I want to pin her down and kiss the deceit right off her lips.
“Hm,” Lorenzo grunts again. “Well, let’s go then. Don’t want you getting my men sick.”
“Are you serious?”
“Do I not look serious?”
An Upper leans in and mutters to her low, “Best not to argue. He’s being fake chill right now. One wrong word and someone’s gonna be bleeding.”
Visibly annoyed, Raya slams her pool stick down and stalks up to him. “Fine, boss. Let’s go, then.”
Lorenzo steps aside to let her pass. But as she does, he rips the scarf off her neck, exposing the bruises. Faded, but evident.
Well, shit.
This isn’t how this was supposed to go. But manipulation always has a hidden cost.
“Who did this?” Lorenzo grips her chin, turning her face side to side. “Name. Now.”
Raya knocks his hand away. “It’s not what you think. It’s a sex thing.”
“A sex—who the fuck—” He draws his gun. “Who? Name. NOW.”
The Uppers instantly back up, hands raised in surrender.
“Which of you is it?” Lorenzo’s aim jumps from head to head. “Who. Fucking. Touched her?”
“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing,” Raya groans, burying her face in her hands.
The men lob confused glances at each other.
“Isn’t she into chicks?” one mutters to another. “Why’s he asking us?”
“Lorenzo,” Raya hisses, yanking at his jacket. “Please. Stop. You’re overreacting.”
“I’ll say this once,” Lorenzo says, voice like cold steel. “Raya is. Off. Fucking. Limits. She’s not just another Pink House girl. She’s practically my little sister. So if any of you think you can mess around with her—” He locks eyes with each of them. “You’ll have me to deal with.”
The men nod, murmuring their understanding.
Raya gapes at Lorenzo, scoffs, then stomps off. Doesn’t even spare me a glance as she blows past and out of the hub.
With one final, sweeping glare over the men, he declares, “Double this month’s salary to whoever brings me the name of the asshole who left those marks on her.”
And on that, he turns and walks out.
The men remain still, watching me with edged caution, bracing. As if they’re expecting me to blow them all to pieces.
Unbelievable. I haven’t said a word this whole time. My hands are in my goddamn pockets. Would be nice if these ungrateful fucks looked at me with even a flicker of appreciation for saving their pathetic lives, elevating them from gutter trash to something useful. For fucking once.
I push off the doorframe and walk out.
Outside, Lorenzo’s holstering his gun, eyes locked on Raya who’s flouncing off in the distance, anger in every step.
“You think it’s really a ‘sex thing’?” he asks. “Or is she covering for someone?”
If he finds out I tried to kill her, things are going to get messy.
She’s under his “Halo.” His protection. Which means, hands off.
No violence. What I did the other night is a direct breach of our “Halo” treaty.
At any other time, I wouldn’t give a damn.
But right now, with everything else going sideways, the last thing I need is to be at odds with my best friend.
“Who knows?” I shrug. “I don’t believe a damn word that comes out of her mouth. Even the Uppers think she’s into women.”
“It better not be Gio,” he mutters, sliding into the cart. “We all agreed that neither of you would touch her until all this shit’s over. If I find out that fucker couldn’t keep his dick in his pants...”
I didn’t agree to anything. He talked and I listened.
“Hmm. Now that I think about it...yeah, I think it’s him.” I climb in behind the wheel, straight-faced. “Definitely Gio.”
Look, when I put this plan together, the marks on Raya’s neck weren’t part of the equation.
A minor hiccup, but it didn’t throw off the plan.
Step one: Poke the bear.
Get Lorenzo on patrol with me. Let him needle me about Raya just enough so I can flip it back on him and poke at his pressure point. The cop’s daughter.
Done.
Step two: Feed the bear.
Once he’s wound up enough, head toward Brioso Hubb.
Make sure he sees Raya posted up with the Uppers, which will piss him off.
He might not be interested in Raya, but he’s still territorial.
He can’t control what the cop’s daughter does, or who she’s with, or how far away she is, so he’ll dump all his frustration on the ones he can control. Raya and the Uppers.
Done.
Step three: Break the bear.
For weeks now, he’s been white-knuckling the urge to run off to L.A.
to stalk the cop’s daughter in the flesh.
Throwing all his focus into dealing with our mess here.
But if my plan works, he’ll crack by the end of the week.
He’ll spring an impromptu trip to L.A. using another “Tripp Garza has a private emergency and needs my help” excuse.
Tripp’s his favorite cousin. They’re tight, and have secrets even I don’t know about, so Tripp will cover for him—as he always does.
And I won’t even question it because I orchestrated it.
Pending.
Only then will I make my move.