Chapter Seventeen Enzo
Chapter Seventeen
Enzo
Me: Do you think I should use an enema before our date on Monday? x
Tomcat: ??
Tomcat: You do realize this is not a normal way to start a conversation.
Tomcat: And it’s NOT a date.
Me: Just answer the question. It’s my first time, I have no one to ask, and the internet is divided and frankly a little hostile about the matter.
Tomcat: Enema is not necessary, especially for someone who’s hygienically aware, like you.
Me: I’ll do one, to be on the safe side.
Me: Also: aww <3.
Tomcat: Stop.
Me: I’m debating whether or not to shave down there, too, but if it grows out before Monday your dick’s going to get third-degree carpet burns.
Tomcat: I am at a loss for words.
Me: I think the ones you are looking for are, “You are gorgeous and endlessly sexy just the way you are. Let me take you out for dinner before our date to show you how much it means to me.”
Tomcat: I’m never taking you to dinner, and if you don’t stop messaging me, there’ll be no fucking, either.
Me: Chillax, I’m just messing with you. Can’t take a goddamn joke?
Me: Have you smiled today yet?
Tomcat: I will when you stop messaging me.
Me: Know what? I think I WILL shave my ass. You deserve the carpet burns.
Tomcat: No, I don’t think I smiled today.
Me: Open the next attachment.
I send an attachment.
Tomcat: I’m not opening anything before I get some reassurances.
Tomcat: Is it a dick pic?
Me: You think that’s all I’m capable of??
Tomcat: Yes.
Me: Fair. But it’s not a dick pic (this time). Open it.
Tomcat: Okay…
Tomcat: What the fuck am I looking at?
Me: It’s me as a pumpkin for Halloween when I was 3. Cute, no?
Tomcat: You’re…
Me: Adorable?
Tomcat: Unhinged.
Me: I feel like there’s a compliment hiding behind this statement…
Tomcat: There isn’t.
Me: TELL ME YOU DIDN’T SMILE.
Tomcat: Fuck off.
Me: I was a bundle of unabashed joy.
Tomcat: Shut up.
Me: You smiled.
Tomcat: No.
Me: ADMIT IT.
Tomcat: Fine. I smiled. Goodbye, kid.
Me: Bye, daddy.
“There’s some trouble with the Russians.” Luca gazed out the wide-paned window of my mother’s mansion, his dark eyes following landscapers on golf carts across the manicured lawn.
“There’s always trouble with the Russians.
” Achilles shoved a hand into his obsidian hair, curling the ends while texting on his phone.
“Does anyone give a fuck about the fact Tier and I are supposed to be on our honeymoon in Europe right now?” He pointed at said phone.
“I just had to cancel the yacht I rented for us in Nice.”
“I do,” I said unhelpfully, eyes still glued to my exchange with Tomcat. I didn’t know why I was so transfixed on getting the man to like me, but somewhere down the line it had turned from a manageable desire to a catastrophic obsession.
I needed him to like me. My entire fucking self-esteem depended on it. Don’t ask me why.
“You’ll get your precious honeymoon just as soon as we deal with the Bratva,” Luca snarled, pinning Achilles with a glare.
“And what’s the timeline on that?” Achilles demanded. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I just got a hot tip from Federico.” Luca pushed off the window, sauntering to the chessboard, his hands in his pockets. “He’s chummy with Slava’s girlfriend, the Met curator?”
Achilles and I both shook our heads. We didn’t pay attention to whom the Russians were dating, as long as it wasn’t our women, in our territory, or both.
“Anyway, she told him the Bratva are waiting for a shipment that should be arriving at our port, here in New York, in the next few weeks.”
“A shipment of what?” I asked.
“Drugs.”
“That wasn’t cleared with me,” I said.
“Same.” Achilles flicked his thumb ring distractedly.
The three of us exchanged looks. Alex, the pakhan, had taken it upon himself to use our territory without permission. That was abominable and punishable by death.
“This is…bold,” I said after a pause.
“The Russians are moving fast after Vello’s death.” Achilles sucked his teeth. “First Jeremie sampling the don’s wife, now this.”
“He’s not sampling my wife,” Luca said tersely.
“Sure, buddy. They’re probably playing a nail-bitingly suspenseful game of Twister in that big-ass mansion. That’s all.”
Christ, I thought with Vello dead, things would get easier. Evidently, Luca and Achilles were in the mood for some familial bloodshedding.
“What’s the timeline on that shipment?” I stirred them back to the subject.
“She told Federico a few weeks.” Luca worked his tight jaw. “Could be three. Could be eight. The girlfriend didn’t press for specifics so as not to raise suspicion, but Rico’s on her ass.”
“This doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t they ask first?” I murmured around an unlit cigarette. “If they’re serious about making peace, which I assume they are, since they’re marrying off Katya.”
“Katya means jack shit,” Luca growled, a little too sharply.
He’d been slowly losing grip on his carefully controlled facade, right before our eyes.
Even though leading the Camorra was everything he’d ever wanted, ever since Sofia left their shared apartment, he hadn’t been the same.
Normally, I would be the one to offer a shoulder to cry on.
To give pep talks. To try to help. Only in recent weeks, I’d been too busy with my own shit.
Busy falling apart and succumbing to the darkness consuming me.
Busy taking steroids and lathering myself in Clobetasol propionate cream twice a day to deal with my breakouts, my body’s way of telling me I could try to bury my secrets, but they’d only end up burying me.
Busy kissing, nibbling, sucking, worshipping a certain FBI agent who wanted everybody in this room to be locked away for life.
“What do you mean?” Achilles narrowed his serpentlike eyes.
“Alex obviously thinks New York’s his new playground,” Luca ground out. “My wife, my territory, my port. Nothing’s sacred. Katya is a small sacrifice for him, a calculated bet; he knows Enzo would never hurt an innocent woman if shit goes south.”
“I told you Enzo’s sweet nature was gonna bite us in the ass.” Achilles scowled. “We should’ve given her to Tristan. He actually showed interest.”
“Tristan’s a literal bastard,” Luca clipped out. “Alex would never marry his blueblood sister to a man who isn’t even a real Ferrante.”
Originally, Dad wanted Achilles to marry Katya.
He’d refused, choosing instead to go to war in order to win Tierney back.
If Achilles would’ve married Katya, Alex wouldn’t be so cocksure.
Achilles would slit her throat without a care in the world if the pakhan as much as fucked up his coffee order. Tristan, probably, too.
Me, I’d never hurt an innocent. No matter the circumstances.
“He thinks this marriage is his insurance we won’t retaliate any territorial disputes, or he plans to cancel it altogether after he takes over New York.” Luca’s chilling detachment didn’t waver. “Either way—he’s wrong.”
“What do you want to do?” I asked. It was Luca’s first major move as the don, and I selfishly hoped he’d assert his position by breaking off my engagement and declaring a full-blown war with the Bratva.
I wasn’t worried about fighting or dying.
But I was terrified of spending the rest of my life in a loveless marriage.
“For now, we act as if we don’t know anything.
We don’t want to alert them, and the information the girlfriend tattled needs to be verified.
We’ll find out the details on the shipment, and once it arrives, I’m going to jack the goods, seize every milligram of coke, and slaughter their soldiers,” Luca decreed.
“Then I’m going to kill Jeremie and take my wife back. ”
“You’ll start a war,” Achilles said sagely.
“Yes, but I’ll have a hell of an excuse,” Luca countered. “A territorial dispute. The Camorra will be fired up. A spark is all I need to set a fire in their hearts and minds.”
It didn’t escape me that Luca could’ve used Sofia and Jeremie as an justification to start a war, but hadn’t. He wanted it under wraps. To protect whatever was left of his crumbling, nonexistent marriage.
No one knew about the situation between Sofia and Jeremie. No one but us.
Achilles ran his palm across his face. “I’m never getting that honeymoon, am I?”
“It’s only a few weeks,” I said to placate the angry fucker. My distaste for his personality aside, I adored his wife. Baby girl had been through hell and back and certainly deserved her happily ever after, even if she got it with Satan himself.
“Tell Tierney to get comfortable in New York for the time being,” Luca said. “Shouldn’t take too long.”
Achilles groaned. “Now I’ll have to make it up to her. I’m thinking a Hamptons summer house, at the bare minimum.”
“You’re pathetic.” Luca made a face.
“No, you’re just bitter my wife actually fucks me and not her bodyguard, and can stand being in the same room with me without vomiting.”
Luca launched himself at Achilles, his fist exploding in our brother’s face. They both sailed down to the floor, Luca pummeling him like a fucking madman. I had to rip the motherfucker from Achilles using all my strength, which meant something, because both Achilles and I were bigger than Luca.
Luca elbowed my eye socket as I peeled him off Achilles, awarding me with what I knew would be a nasty shiner.
“Ti stai comportando come un’idiota.” I hurled Luca’s ass to the other side of the room. “Timeout for both you motherfuckers. Jesus Christ.” I touched the skin around my eye, the burning sensation searing me to the bone. “Goddammit, motherfucker!”
Achilles was up on his feet, heaving as he pointed at Luca. “What’s the matter, I hit a nerve?”
“One more word and you’ll hit the grave.” Luca raised a finger. I’d never seen him like this. So raw, so angry. So…alive.
“Act like a little bitch all you want.” Achilles chuckled sardonically. “You lost Sofia because you chose the throne over the woman, and now you’re making all of us pay by going to war with the Bratva.”
“I did what you didn’t have the guts to do.
” Luca bared his teeth. “I made the sacrifices needed to ensure the Camorra remains the biggest crime organization in America. While you pranced around the globe chasing after Tierney like a lovesick puppy, I worked myself to the bone. I’m keeping our business alive. ”
“Yeah.” Achilles grabbed his phone, pocketing it on his way out the door. “But at what cost? Look at you. You’re already dead.”