Chapter 4
Chapter Four
ENZO
Screw the whole ego-stroking of having the bigwig's office on the top fucking floor. Sure, it looks good, probably feels good for a shallow soul—not that I think my buddy is shallow.
Okay, he might have shallow tendencies that come with growing up with money. But I also grew up with money, and I like the basement.
The top floor is for posturing, being admired, studied, watched, however you might want to put it, but I'm more than aware that the important and interesting things happen in the dark, in the shadows. In secret.
You can't do shit on the top floor. Especially something that isn't above board or the kind of white-collar crime that is accepted when you reach a certain number of zeros in your bank account.
Which is why Louie should have taken his shit down to the basement. Why didn't he get someone else involved, someone he trusted, someone like me or Cade or any one of the Syndicate to look into things before he went and did them and had to contact me on a whole different fucking level?
Because...fuck me, Rebecci?
Louie isn't stupid enough not to catch on to the fact that someone named Dominic Rebecci was mafia, even if he didn't tell him. And that looking up information must mean something bad.
Louie is a lot of things. He has an addiction to the wrong women, to gambling, to reckless decisions. But he is usually not this stupid.
Honestly, he deserves to lose his startup completely.
I have a good mind not to sell it back to him when this is gone and done.
I could see myself, if I squint real hard, as a boss man, a leader of others, head of the board.
Of course, if I did that and didn't actually want to lose the money I just went and sunk into this place, I would have to do work. The kind I'm not interested in.
Whatever financial cracks Louie has put into Barwon aren't showing yet, and if I have my way, they won't. I will patch them up by finding and fixing his mafia problem and whatever other illegal issues he has got.
This startup could really be something huge and is on its way, so of course he decided to fuck it up by getting the mafia involved.
The voice inside me says walk the fuck away.
But I can't. I'm going to have to play the part of big boss and secret takeover.
Being big boss means being here. And—
Lola.
Oh, damn. I'm going to be her boss.
It doesn't matter. This is essentially fake. And I'm not planning on anything happening between us. But if I'm CEO, at least for now, then the longer I'm here, the greater the chance of us running into each other.
It is a small startup, but Louie has family money, regardless of his financial woes. He is also in a large building that is owned by his family.
Barwon shouldn't be in trouble.
I swallow a sigh as I wait for the elevator to reach the basement and fantasize about what I would do if this were mine.
Since there is no second elevator dedicated to the top floor, I would fix it so this elevator always remained empty when I'm the one using it. And maybe do the same for a few other people. Give them a sense that they are true VIPs.
Beyond that...?
For added security, I would have the top floor accessible by a lock.
As it is, my ride up was mostly smooth, just the gossiping girls. But the key access would effectively lock off all other floors from accessing the elevator as it ascended or descended from the top floor.
Not that it had to be a literal key. Might as well go full tech on this with face or fingerprint recognition.
"Yeah," I mutter. "So I can be, what? The fucking modern version of Rapunzel, the chick in need of a good haircut?"
Besides, Barwon isn't at the level of success to need a tighter, better security system yet.
If and when it gets there, I will handle it, since I'm the best man for the job.
I mean, who better than me to get the best security for someone? Because I don't work on installing them. I hack them.
My phone pings.
I glance at the incoming message from Lola and eye the latest photo.
I like her tease, her sass, the way she did it.
Sucking in a breath, I tell myself I'm tantalized by the panties and the fact she is doing risky things for me. A stranger. It could be anyone I'm getting these responses from. They are objectively hot.
My phone pings again.
Cade
Dude. Your place needs a cleaning service, stat.
Me
I will pay you to do it. Or Vi. She can wear a sexy outfit, and you can watch in secret.
Cade
You mean you can.
Me
We both can. My viewing pleasure would be an unexpected perk.
Cade
No. You have seen enough of her.
Me
Enough? I have hardly started. And I'm not the one who fucks her anywhere he feels like. I can't help it if you like to flash her delicious body at me.
I can almost hear his blood boil.
Cade
Look at my wife for longer than one second, and I will cut off your balls.
I bite back a laugh.
Me
Fuck, you're easy to rile.
Cade
One word. Cancun.
Me
Fuck you.
Cade
Thanks for the offer, but I'm just interested in my wife. She's hot. You're... not my type.
Me
The fucking hilarity.
Then another text comes in from him.
Cade
Where the fuck are you?
Me
At Barwon.
Cade
Why? Your idiot friend got a problem?
I haven't really talked to Cade about what I'm doing today, so I text one word: Rebecci.
My phone rings.
I swipe to answer.
"As in the fucking Rebecci mafia?"
I sigh. "Something like that."
"Isn't this a little beneath their paygrade?
I know the startup is potentially worth a lot, but why is Rebecci into it?
" Cade types furiously on the other end.
"And don't say that's what you want to know, either.
Or that Louie is in trouble financially.
Even if he is, your friend is from money.
It should be a bit of a no-brainer to run, even for some dude who probably doesn't know a computer port from his asshole. "
I bite down on the laugh. "Pretty fucking sure he knows that."
"Look, Enzo. If you're getting into stupid trouble, don't."
I note the concern in his voice. "You mean, like buying Barwon?"
There is dead fucking silence, even the typing has stopped. The silence is deep. Almost a smack in the face.
It is judging silence, full of unsaid, harsh words.
"Why?" he asks.
I take a breath and quietly outline more or less what is going on. I leave out the juicier side of things, but he will get the details later. After I'm done, I add, "So, I bought the company, and I'm now in charge."
"You? A CEO?"
"I'm qualified."
"An MBA you haven't used isn't a fucking qualification. It's more a decoration."
"Why are we friends?"
Fuck. I need to go to the basement. I can't think up here.
I head to the elevator.
"Honesty. You crave it from me." Then he pauses, and the computer keyboard clacks once more as he moves around in my basement, where he is working. "Your friend comes up clean right now, some debt to various establishments, a few unwise investments, but his fortune is in one piece."
I call the elevator. "I know that. It's how people like him operate."
"Otherwise, like I said, he's clean. But...this isn't as deep as I can go."
"Okay—"
"Wait. Barwon... Didn't you help this Lola get her job there?"
The elevator arrives, and I step in, hitting the ground floor button. "No. I didn't." Much. "I just helped set her on the path to not continuously get rejected."
His silence says way too much.
"This isn't forever here," I add. "Just until we find out who is after her."
"Yeah, well... Be careful—"
"This? Coming from you?"
"I wasn't ever Violet's boss."
"No, you were so much worse."
"Hey, I married the girl."
"Like that improves matters. And you told her about Cancun." I'm ticked off, and I don't know why.
Probably because Cancun pisses me off. And also, I'm gonna be Lola's boss.
It doesn't even matter if she is not directly under me—Nope, not letting my filthy brain go there, and that I'm not going to actually be changing career paths to Barwon. I still might run into her.
I'm right back where I started with this.
"I'm not planning to be an active part of Lola's life. I'm just trying to solve the situation I'm going to send you."
"Okay. Just a friendly reminder, Mr. Playing CEO. We do have actual Syndicate work coming up."
"I'm aware."
He sighs. "Fine, send it."
I hang up and, fingers flying over my phone's keyboard, I do just that.
Then I lean against the wall as I descend, a few different people coming and going on this elevator. Not as many as I assumed. Good.
I look at what she has sent me again.
The wet patch that makes me want to groan. The cotton that is bizarrely a turn-on.
Shit, I shouldn't be turned on by someone I have known for most of my life. Someone innocent and fragile I have just wanted to protect for longer than I care to remember. Someone I haven't met in years.
Then again, not having met in years doesn't mean I haven't kept tabs on her. Intervening when she might get into trouble, helping remove traces of her from anything that could put her in the public eye, even if she was innocent. Especially because she was.
If anyone found out she was linked to big money and worse, linked to big crime, then she would be fodder like so many mafia princesses end up being.
No one cared if whichever girl was innocent. They just wanted clicks and sales.
But like I promised my father, I kept my distance. Fuck, I'm honestly not sure why, other than he thought we might tangle the families.
Dad has never known the extent I have been involved in her life. He would be pissed if he even suspected half of it.
Fuck. Uncle Gino would be pissed, too.
What am I thinking?
My father wouldn't just be pissed. He would be birthing kittens and disowning me, banning me from the family.
To be honest, considering Gino got singed by her father, he might help.
I like Gino, but he is transactional, and he wouldn't be the one banning me. He would probably find a way to extract favors.
No, it is not Gino that worries me right now.
It is Dad.
Or should I say, Lyndall.
If it was Dad alone, I would happily go no contact myself. I would never talk to him or my cousins who are crawling all over each other to get in his good graces.
It would be no great loss.
But he has influence.
Certain power.
And Lyndall would be at his mercy.
My sister is not someone I ever want to hurt, especially because of my actions.
So, my father doesn't know a damn thing, which is how it is going to stay.
The person in the elevator gets off, and I continue to descend.
I look at the picture she sent of the panties in her bag to show she is still not wearing them.
There are a lot of folded papers and a book.
I can't see the name, but in my head, it is a smutty one. Any girl who sends a supposed stranger her underwear pics, demure cleavage shots, and goes commando must harbor fantasies. Things like this clearly turn her on if the wet patch is anything to go by.
I want to know her fantasies and what else turns her on.
Of course, the book could be anything.
I'm on the fourth floor when the elevator stops, and the doors ding open.
Like a secret wish or threat—I'm not sure which—has been answered, Lola suddenly hurries in and swings her large bag from where it covers her ass to her front and starts rifling through it.
I'm fascinated. I can see her panties and the spine of the book.
Then a flash of cover with a half-naked couple in a clinch. Wild Bets is the name, and I tuck it away, eager to find out what it is all about.
Lola is prettier up close. Her black hair is pulled back into a bun that looks ready to protest violently at any second and let curly wisps escape.
Her outfit should be banned.
A white shirt that is business from the collar to the cuffed wrists and a longish black pencil skirt.
Her long damned legs—
My cock throbs.
"Where is my damn lanyard?" she mutters.
Lola finds something and pulls it from her bag and then glances at the elevator as she slips it over her head. "Oh, no. I'm meant to be going up, not down."
Self-control has never been a strong suit of mine, and I really can't help myself.
"There's a lot to be said about going down."
She tries to clip on the badge. "Yes. But it's going the wrong way."
"Depends on how you look at it. From my viewpoint, going down is way more fun."
Startled, she spins to look up at me, and she smiles, her cheeks turning red.
There is not an ounce of recognition on her face, not that I would expect it. We look a whole lot different than we did as kids.
But I'm not going to be anonymous soon. The second she hears my name and discovers I'm her new boss, she will have to remember who I am. At least the name and who my family is to hers.
Lola looks like she is going to say something, but her gaze skitters, and she turns her back to me, hugging her bag, and...
Oh, damn, what a sight!
My gaze locks on her ass as I try not to laugh.
Technically, her wardrobe mishap is my fault, but it is fucking funny and beyond hot all the same.
In the world of asses, hers just might be perfect.
A snicker breaks free.
She turns, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she glares at me. "Do you have a problem?"
"Me, personally? Nope. I'm enjoying the view."
Her eyes narrow into angry, suspicious slits. "What view?"
"The view you're giving me."
"What—"
"I'm sorry, but you're the one with the problem. The... uh, hem of your skirt is stuck in the waistband."
"What!?" Her shriek fills the elevator, and I hit the stop button that makes us hang there between floors.
It is the least I can do.
Her hands frantically go behind her back as she spins and slams her back against the wall of the elevator.
I grin, my cock getting hard and throbbing, and since she is not looking at me, I make a quick adjustment and then lean in close.
Her gaze slams into mine, and her face flames red hot.
"While I'm personally loving the show, next time, you should try wearing underwear." I reach out and hit the start button.
The elevator continues its descent.
My timing is perfect.
A second later, we hit the ground floor, and the elevator doors open.
I step out and don't look back, knowing I have left one stunned Lola behind me.