20. Marco
Chapter Twenty
MARCO
I feel like such an ass.
Clara aced her interview and got herself a place at the Institute of Fashion, just like I thought she would, and somehow I manage to let my foul mood ruin it.
She should be celebrating her incredible accomplishment over an oversized bottle of champagne, not wondering why I’m off the grid and stuck in a strategy meeting with Andre.
I could sense from the way her tone instantly shifted that she could tell something was up with me, but there’s no way in hell I was telling her what.
Andre and I have been going back and forth for hours, trying to figure out how the hell we’re going to navigate the shitstorm headed our way now that Cillian is looking to call in the favor I owe him.
There are a lot of things I need to sort out if I’m going to break this deal, and the pressure is starting to get to me.
I’ll only have one shot to take him down and if Cillian catches a whiff of my plan, Andre and I will be better off dead.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket, trying to take my mind off Clara. “We’re running out of time.”
Andre braces his hands against the dark mahogany desk, his eyes fixed on the portrait of our father hanging on the wall behind it.
I was surprised when Andre suggested coming to our family’s penthouse in the city, but we needed to put a safe enough distance between us and the rest of our family while we figure out our next move.
Even with eyes on Ben, we can’t be one hundred percent sure that he hasn’t stabbed us in the back by getting a message to Cillian, informing him of our plan.
Andre’s shoulders are almost at his ears, stiff as a board. “No matter what, it’s going to end in a bloodbath.”
I glance at the portrait of our father.
The only reason we’re even in the position is because of him.
“Our father better be grateful he’s not fucking alive right now.”
Andre’s body is practically vibrating as he looks at our father like he’s nothing more than a stranger.
The resemblance between the two of them is unnerving, yet they couldn’t be more different in terms of the way they do business.
I know Andre would rather die than let his family take the fall for his own mistake. I just wish our father had offered us the same courtesy.
My phone starts vibrating once again in my pocket, but this time it’s not Clara.
“Fuck. It’s Cillian.”
Andre straightens as I answer the call and put it on speaker.
“Hello, De Luca.”
“What can I do for you, Cillian?” My eyes flick to Andre who has gone deathly still.
“It’s time for ye to repay the favor. I’m gonna need ye to meet me at a warehouse in Hell’s Kitchen in three days.”
Fuck.
This is it. The countdown to my doom.
“What do you need me to do?” I try to come across as calm, despite the fact that my body has broken out into a cold sweat.
Andre pulls out his own phone and starts furiously tapping away at the screen.
“Just wait and see.”
“Will it be just me or?—”
“Why all the questions?”
“I just like to know what I’m getting myself into.”
“The point is, ye don’t have a feckin’ choice. That’s the beauty of calling in a debt.”
I tense at Cillian’s words.
This is nothing more than a game to him, and it seems like I have no other choice but to play along.
Knowing what I know about the industries that Cillian is involved in, my best guess is that this favor has something to do with sex slaves.
If he’s expecting me to turn a blind eye to his whole operation, I’m going to have a real fucking problem.
What he’s doing to these poor girls is disgusting, but I also know that saying no to Cillian would be a declaration of war.
And right now, war is the one thing my brother and I are not ready for.
“Send me the location, and I’ll be there.”
Bile burns my throat at the thought of going along with this shit. Hell, the sort of girls he sells at auction are younger than my sister , which makes me sick to my stomach. But at this point, I don’t have much of a choice.
“Good lad.” Cillian hangs up the phone.
I sink into an armchair and set the phone on the table in front of me as Cillian’s voice still echoes in my head.
“So, it begins.” Andre heads over to the bar cart to pour us both a drink.
I nod as I curl my fingers into a fist, fighting the urge to send it through the wall. “He’s enjoying this.” I take the drink from Andre and down it in one gulp, barely even registering the burn.
Andre takes a seat in the chair across from me. “You sound surprised. Guys like Cillian thrive on control, and he’s got you in a tight spot.”
“He thinks he does.”
Andre’s eyes meet mine across the table. “You’ve got two options now. Either you play along with whatever bullshit he throws at you, or we go to war. There’s no middle ground with a guy like Cillian. He’ll either own you or come for your head.”
I already know that. I’ve been turning it over in my mind ever since Ben gave me an insight into Cillian’s dealings, but I still can’t work out the angle I want to take. None of them is a less shitty option.
I run my hand over my jaw. “I can’t let him get his hands on Clara and Zoe.”
“And he won’t.”
“He won’t if I go along with what he says.”
Andre is quiet for a moment as he sips on his whisky.
“I can’t let this be my only option, Andre.” I try to put a lid on the panic that is slowly building in my chest. “I can’t involve myself in this shit.”
“You might not have a choice.”
“So, what would you do?”
“I’d do whatever it took to keep my girls safe.”
“That’s what got me in this fucking situation in the first place.”
“And it likely won’t be the last time either. But we do what we need to in order to protect our family.”
Family.
“That’s it!”
“What?”
“We have Ben.” I lean forward to rest my forearms on my knees. “We have his knowledge of how Cillian’s operation runs from the inside.”
“Knowledge doesn’t mean shit if we can’t use it. Even with Ben’s insight, this kind of takedown… It’s going to require planning and resources.”
“We’ve done it before?—”
“But most importantly, Marco, it’s going to take time.”
“Which we don’t have…” I groan.
Andre nods, his face grave.
Three days. That’s all I could have left.
I rise from my seat, my heart pounding in my chest like a ticking clock. “Then I guess it’s time I started laying the groundwork.”
Andre raises a brow. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking we use Cillian’s ego against him.” I grab my jacket off the back of my chair. “He thinks that I’ll play his little game and keep my mouth shut while he drags me into his filth. But he’s forgetting one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I always set my own rules, and I play to win.”
“Marco.” Andre gets to his feet. “What are you planning?”
I slide my arms into my jacket. “I can’t say anything just yet. I need to talk to someone first.”
“Why won’t you tell me who?”
“Because you’ll talk me out of it, and right now, this is the only option I can think of that could actually save our asses.”
My brother eyes me for a beat. Then he nods.
“Fine. But try not to get killed. I don’t fancy taking Cillian down on my own.”
I pull up outside the safehouse where we’ve been keeping Ben under close watch. Dom’s car is parked out front, as expected, and when I kill the engine the curtain in the front window shifts.
By the time I climb out of the car, Dom has unlocked the door and is waiting to usher me inside.
“How is he?”
“Pain in my fucking ass,” Dom grunts.
I swallow a laugh.
“How much longer do I have to be on babysitting duty?”
“That depends on how willing he is to do me a favor.”
Dom leads me down the narrow hall and into the main living space of the house. It’s not much better than the apartment I found Ben in, but that’s his own fault. If he had proven himself to be a decent human being, I would have gladly set him up in one of my family’s apartments in the city.
Instead, he’s proven himself to be a complete waste of space, hence why I chose to lock him away in this shithole of a safehouse.
I find Ben sitting on the worn couch, flipping through a newspaper like he’s got all the time in the world.
His buzzed blond hair is starting to grow out, and his jaw is starting to sport the beginnings of a beard. At the sound of my footsteps, he glances up and for a moment, I see a flash of Clara in his green eyes.
“I knew it was only a matter of time.” Ben turns his attention back to his newspaper. “You don’t strike me as the patient type.”
“I need you to arrange a meeting. With Bruno and Carlos.”
Ben’s head snaps up. “The Tommaso boys?”
“You heard me.”
“Why the hell would you want to meet with them? They literally want to kill you.”
“I’m aware.” I tuck my hands into my pockets.
“So, what, you’ve got some sort of death wish, is that it?”
“You’re not in a position to question me, Ben.”
“I think I can when you’re dragging my sister into this shit.”
I bark a laugh. “That’s fucking rich coming from you. Do you need reminding of the fact that you literally let Tommaso lock her in a fucking cell?”
Ben’s jaw clenches, but he stays silent.
“That’s what I thought. So, are you going to sort this out or what? Because if you need reminding, your usefulness is directly correlated to the number of breaths you have left.”
“Is that a fucking threat, De Luca?”
I shrug. “Only if you want it to be.”
I glance sidelong at Dom, whose towering frame is hovering in the doorway.
When I catch his eye, he offers me a grin as he cracks his tattooed knuckles.
I don’t need to look at Ben to know the color has drained from his face.
“So, can you help me or not?” I turn my attention back to Ben.
Ben shakes his head. “You’re insane.”
“Answer the fucking question.”
Ben huffs. “They’re going to want a reason.”
“Tell them I have a proposition for them.”
Calling a meeting with Tommaso’s sons could either be the smartest move I’ve ever made, or the one that gets me killed.
But if I want to take out Cillian, I need leverage, and the Tommaso brothers hate him almost as much as I do.
I can only hope their hatred for Cillian is bigger than their desire for vengeance against me.
“You’re not going to tell me what this is about?”
“No.”
Ben studies me for a long second, then he nods slowly when he realizes I’m not going to change my mind. “I’ll make the call.”