Chapter 23
NICK
Every second that ticks by has my temper ratcheting higher.
Marcus convinced me against going after Riley after she ran off. To be accurate, he physically held me back from chasing her Uber down and didn’t let go of me until he had my lawyer on the phone. It was a good choice, a smart choice, but it did nothing to help the boiling rage in my gut.
Jerry will be able to strong-arm the news outlet into taking the article down, considering he has the full weight of the law and my bank account to throw at them.
Getting it pulled won’t fix the damage that’s already been done.
It won’t stop Riley from having read it in the first place.
It won’t get Riley back into my arms.
I scowl at that last thought, downing the room-temperature mouthful of scotch left in my glass before refilling it. Marcus eyes the amount of liquor I pour like he wants to say something, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut, just sighing and leaning back in the chair beside mine.
I just let the only girl who’s ever meant anything to me run off so I could deal with fucking PR.
And, yeah, sure, I know it’s deeper than that.
The allegations will hit her reputation harder than mine because the media will always go after women harder than men, and that’s why I want it kept as quiet as possible.
I don’t want this to ruin her. I don’t want it to ruin us.
Still, sitting around drinking myself blind while I wait for my lawyer to call me back feels like a mistake.
The scotch sears down my throat as I take an over-large gulp, treating it like a gas station swill rather than the several thousand dollar bottle it is.
Bruno wanders back into the dining room with a swagger in his step and a smirk on his lips, and my fingers tighten dangerously around my glass. Marcus shoots him a look somewhere in between pleading and warning, but it does about as much good as waving a red flag at a bull.
“Damn, she ran right off, didn’t she?” he guffaws, sliding his hands into his pockets, grinning smugly at me from across the table. “Guess your little bitch wasn’t—”
Before he manages to finish his sentence, my hand whips out and damn near tears Marcus’s jacket in half.
He jumps back, but not fast enough to stop me from freeing his pistol from the shoulder holster he habitually wears.
It’s been a long time since I’ve carried regularly, but I can always count on Marcus to have his piece on him.
I level it at Bruno’s head without hesitation, flicking the safety off as I drain the rest of my glass.
“Fuck off, Brucey boy,” I say, hoarse with fury. “Unless you want me to make your fucking eardrums connect.”
Ma steps into the room just as Bruno starts to laugh incredulously. I slide the safety back in place before she can even say anything. Her eyes are icy and furious as she glares between the two of us.
“Go cool off,” she snaps at me.
I snag the half-full bottle of scotch off the table and shoulder-check Bruno harshly on my way past. Ma sighs as I storm down the hallway, but I don’t let it stop me.
Instinctively, I head for the back garden.
It was always where I went when I needed to think back when this house was still home.
My feet carry me there without any conscious input.
A drop of scotch spills from the side of my mouth as I drink straight from the bottle, pacing aimlessly over the manicured grass.
I angrily wipe it away with the back of my hand.
I’ve never been more furious in my life, and I know that at least half of it is because I feel fucking helpless.
Things were going well between us. We were handling the threatening photos and Bruno’s dickish tendencies; Riley even seemed willing to accept the mafia ties that I come along with. At the very least, she came to talk to me after hearing everything from Ma instead of running off screaming.
So why did this have to happen now?
Why did it have to happen at all?
I told her I’d handle this, and instead of using everything at my disposal to get it handled, I let the cops sit around with their thumbs up their asses trying to figure it out.
I’ve lived without using any of my old mafia ties for so long.
I thought doing things by the book would work just as well here as it has in the past, but instead it lost me everything that really mattered.
My hands itch to curl into fists and turn whoever’s responsible for this into a bloody pulp, but I don’t even know who’s behind this.
I have nowhere to turn my anger. It’s starting to fester and show its true colors the longer I pace through the gardens, drowning myself in scotch.
I’m pissed, don’t get me wrong, but what I really am is guilty.
I should have done more, done better.
I should have kept Riley safe like I fucking promised.
My ringtone breaks the silence of the air, and I scrabble in my pocket for it, answering without even looking.
“Riley?” I ask breathlessly.
A beat of silence answers me before my lawyer’s voice comes through the speaker.
“Mr. D’Amico? It’s Jerry Lynch,” he says. “I have updates for you, sir.”
Fuck.
Not who I wanted, but Jerry knows better than to call me unless he has good news for me.
“Hit me with it,” I say, scowling at the bottle of scotch before shrugging and lifting it up to my lips for another drink.
“The article’s been pulled from the official website and all records of the original interview have been handed over.
I have my IT specialists ensuring all copies are scrubbed from the internet.
Marcus had your tech team send out a message to recipients of the initial link stating that it was a virus and to simply delete it. ”
My shoulders slump in relief, and I clench my jaw to stop something that feels suspiciously like a sob from falling from my lips. I’m not going to fucking cry over this.
“Good,” I say when I regain control of my voice. “Any luck tracking down who’s behind it?”
Jerry clears his throat, and I hear a bit of a scuffle before Thomas’s voice comes through, loud and clear.
“I joined Jerry’s boys when they paid the news outlet’s headquarters,” he says, cheery and lighthearted as always.
“They were plenty willing to talk after someone wound up with a broken wrist. Don’t know how that happened, but it wasn’t caught on any security cameras, so I guess it’ll remain a mystery. ”
God, I could fucking kiss him.
As much as I usually enjoy his shenanigans, or at least tolerate them, I really don’t have the patience for them at the moment.
“I’ll buy you a Lambo if you shut up and tell me a name,” I grit out.
“Contradictory,” he sing-songs. “Should I shut up or tell you?”
“Tommy.”
I don’t use that tone with him, not about anything.
Thomas isn’t someone I’ve ever genuinely threatened, but I’d cut my own arm off right now if it meant I could know whose teeth to bash in.
Or at least if I could tell Riley with certainty that the person responsible is behind bars and set to rot for the rest of their life.
“It was your annoying employee. The blonde,” he says, knowing better than to push me when I’m like this.
The mostly empty bottle of scotch falls from my fingers as my teeth grind together so hard I’m surprised my jaw doesn’t shatter.
“Sloane,” I growl.
“That’s the one,” he confirms.
The way she treated Riley in the office was enough to make me want to ruin her life, but this? She fucked with Riley’s safety.
I’m going to rip the bitch to pieces with my fucking teeth if I have to.
“Oh, and your lawyer can still hear you, so whatever you’re thinking, keep it an inside thought for now, yeah?”