9. Zane
NINE
ZANE
Stefan nods in approval when he sees the metal detectors. It means neither of us can take our guns into the restaurant with us, but with this guest list, we’re better off with everybody unarmed.
“Bill, stay with our stuff,” Stefan says. “I’ve got the boss.”
Bill nods. “Got it.”
Bill isn’t the only bodyguard who’s tasked with staying behind, either. I see a few familiar faces sending their guards off to wait for them.
I frown when I notice Manfred Bouchard among the guests, though. I didn’t expect him to be here, not with Keith Harrington also on the guest list. Keith’s mother is a Bouchard, but he works hard to keep the family relation discreet to appear more legitimate than he actually is.
“What’s Manfred doing here?” I hiss to Stefan.
Stefan shakes his head. “I saw the guest list. The only Bouchard listed was Keith Harrington.”
I stare into the room, though I don’t let my eyes linger on Bouchard for long.
Not that it matters, because I catch his gaze on me.
My lips purse.
Is this one of the things Fred had told him about? This has been planned for a while.
At the same time, it’s not as though this was a secret event. If this had been at Gen’s, or some other private location, I’d be wondering just how much Fred had managed to fuck me over.
I nod curtly. “Let me know if he approaches,” I tell him, even though I know it shouldn’t be necessary. Still, after how lax my security has been lately — a thought I know isn’t entirely fair and stems from paranoia — it seems worth mentioning.
Part of me considers leaving immediately, but I need to make nice with the city’s businesspeople and politicians. My business doesn’t work without greased palms.
I go over the guest list in my head, determining where to start. I’m not exactly late, but most of the guests have already arrived to begin schmoozing.
My eyes fall on Keith Harrington, and even though I have no particular fondness for him, he’s someone worth getting on my side.
He’s always struck me as a smarmy bastard.
A man like him might bluster about caring for the little man, but I know he hasn’t fallen far from the Bouchard tree. How fast he gained in popularity is proof enough of that: he used his Bouchard ties to get connections and votes to ensure that he’s one of the top contenders now.
He wants power, in any way he can get it.
His ties to the Bouchards are also bad for my business. I know who he’ll side with if it ever comes down to it.
I need leverage.
Keith has evaded my efforts to find his skeletons thus far, and I don’t like it.
I’ll simply have to try harder.
I cross over to him with a smile.
“Good evening,” I greet him.
He lifts his drink in a slight toast to me. “Zane Vilani,” he replies. “How are you doing this lovely evening?”
I chuckle. “It is at that,” I say. “I’m doing well. And you?”
We devolve into small talk, but it’s edged with something more, a feint here and there as we test the waters.
The Bouchards want me dead.
How much does Keith know about that?
Sometimes I wonder if I’m really suited to politicking, with its double talk and entendres, but it’s what my father taught me, and I will not destroy his legacy by stepping away from any part of the family business.
It doesn’t take Keith long to bring up his fundraising efforts. “Of course I’ll donate,” I lie.
I have no intention of donating, and I’m sure he knows it. I’m not going to hand the Bouchards more power in the city, especially not while I don’t know who’s put out the hit on me.
Keith smiles broadly at me. “Glad to hear it.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, and I resist throwing off his overly intimate touch.
He always makes these shows of familiarity, and if I didn’t keenly dislike being touched, I might not notice how long they linger.
Maybe I’m making assumptions because he’s openly gay, but I don’t think I’m imagining it.
I wonder what he’d be like in bed, but it isn’t a thought I truly entertain.
He’s handsome enough by some standards, with close-cropped dark hair that’s always painstakingly styled and a solid build that a suit only enhances. If it wasn’t for the cold, calculating look in his dark eyes, I might consider him attractive.
But a predator recognizes a predator… and the only predator I want anything to do with is Sin.
This isn’t the time to be thinking of him.
I’m obsessed, and I know I’m obsessed.
Who wouldn’t be after the blowjob he’d given me in the alley? Even without his hands, he’d been able to send pleasure crashing through me.
He had submitted to me.
Then there had been the fact that he hadn’t been nearly as helpless as I’d believed.
He’d been able to get free of the zipties, and when I’d retrieved them from the dirty ground, I’d seen where they were cut. He’d had another blade on him, but he hadn’t chosen to stab me with it even after slicing into me with the first one.
He hadn’t gutted me, either, which he could’ve done.
Why?
For the same reason I couldn’t bring myself to strangle him?
The wound across my stomach flares with phantom pain, reminding me of the way he’d slit my shirt and skin all at once, and I purse my lips.
The hand on my shoulder squeezes, and I startle back into the moment to see Keith watching me with a quirked brow.
“I’m not that boring, am I?” he drawls.
He is, actually.
Especially compared to—
Fucking hell.
“Of course not,” I assure him. “I’m a bit absent-minded lately, that’s all.”
“I’m sure you do have a lot on your mind,” Keith replies.
I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, and I arch a brow as I regard him.
Before I can determine what he wants from me, somebody else approaches us.
I tense when I recognize the two men as Avery Cuore and his older brother Dante.
Dante is the current head of the Cuore family.
He’s tall, dark-haired, and handsome—for a man whose single expression is mild distaste.
He took over for his father two years ago, and from what I’ve heard, he’s been ruling with an iron fist.
I’ve seen his new regime in action. The Cuore network is a lot tighter now than it was before, and they’ve been a bigger thorn in my side ever since.
“Mr. Harrington!” Avery says. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Dante holds out his hand to silence him, making Avery’s lips purse in annoyance. “Later. Your pet project can wait.”
“Good evening,” I say, keeping my voice pleasant despite my own irritation. Dealing with Keith is bad enough; adding the Cuores to the mix only makes my mood sour further.
Dante and Keith exchange what I assume are coded words. I should be paying attention, but I’m more interested in Avery Cuore right now.
He’s been stealing Jayce’s business. I’m honestly impressed that he opened his nightclub only four blocks away from Absinthe, especially with all the money Jayce threw around to prevent it from ever getting off the ground.
Avery catches me staring. “Yes?”
“I wanted to congratulate you,” I say. “I hear The Basement has been a success.”
He smiles at me with all the eagerness of a proud parent. “Thank you,” he replies. “Have you been? I’ll add you to the VIP list. Someone like you should always get the best treatment anywhere you go.”
“How generous of you.” I chuckle. “I don’t get out much, these days.”
Considering the fact that there’s no love lost between our families, the gesture is a surprise. Either he’s that excited about his pet project, or he has ulterior motives.
Likely it’s a mixture of both.
Could he be in league with Sin somehow, trying to lure me back out into the open where someone can take an easy shot at me?
Everything I’ve heard about Avery Cuore says that he’s more interested in his club than he is in mafia politics, but a Cuore is a Cuore.
“Really?” Avery gives me a shrewd look. “But weren’t you at Absinthe last week?”
My eyebrows shoot up. Maybe the Bouchards aren’t the real threat after all. Should I be looking more closely at the Cuores? “I was,” I confirm.
Who else has been selling information about my whereabouts?
Had I killed Fred too soon, before finding out about everyone he’d been dealing with? I hadn’t thought he’d be stupid enough to sell information to multiple families at the time, but now I’m not so sure.
I spot somebody else approaching us, and I fight the urge to sigh. Here we go.
“The Basement has better amenities than Absinthe,” Avery says with a bright smile. “Anything you could ever want, we’ve got it and better.”
“No, you don’t,” Jayce answers coolly from behind Avery. “The Basement barely has drinks.”
Avery’s head snaps around, his sunny expression quickly darkening with his scowl. “The Basement has better drinks than Absinthe,” he snaps. “We were in the write-up in the New Valence Times last week, you know. They couldn’t praise us enough. When was the last time you were in there?”
The rivalry between Avery and Jayce is intense enough to where I wouldn’t be surprised if it escalated.
“It’s easy to get a write-up when you pay for a puff piece,” Jayce answers. “Are you even old enough to drink? You wouldn’t know a good cocktail if it splashed all over your face.”
Avery’s cheeks redden. “At least my bartenders know how to come up with something new and different. You’re still serving the same drinks from a decade ago. Try something fresh for once.”
I wonder if I’m going to have to pull the two of them apart.
“The mojito is a classic for a reason.” Jayce sneers. “I’m not going to shame my forefathers by defiling it with hibiscus or strawberry flavoring.”
Personally, I believe Avery has the right idea if he wants to pander to a younger crowd, but I’m hardly going to tell Jayce as much.
Before I can intervene, I notice that Stefan has stepped closer to me. “Boss, I think it would be a good idea to call it a night,” he says.
I frown at him. It’s still early, and I haven’t even mingled with the right people — because the Cuore family is far from the right people, and they’re taking up as much time as Keith had.
Has he seen Sin in the crowd?
“Yes, all right,” I tell him. I smile at Jayce and Avery. “I’ll leave you two to your… discussion. Duty calls.”
As soon as I’m away from them, Stefan leans in closer. “Head for the kitchen. We go out the back.”
I have questions, but now isn’t the time to ask them. I maneuver my way through the crowd, making my way in the direction of the kitchen.
The door suddenly swings open.
A masked man steps out, holding a shotgun.
Stefan pushed me in this direction. Stefan wanted me to go to the kitchen.
The violent surge of betrayal I feel has me frozen, right up until the point where Stefan grabs me and pulls me down onto the ground.
The shotgun goes off.
The sound echoes in my ears. My heart thumps faster and faster.
People scream.
I think the sound I make is more pathetic than that.
This is hardly the first time I’ve heard the sound of a gunshot lingering in my ears.
I’m far from innocent to the ways of this world.
But the betrayal? That’s where it slices through me like Sin’s blade had, except deadlier in so many ways.
Something threatens to unravel from the inside out.
“Nobody is leaving!” the man says. “Not until we get all your valuables!”
Valuables?
They aren’t here for someone?
They aren’t here for me?
I don’t relax; how could I?
Even with my eyes open, I can still see Di Palazzo in front of me as I scream, begging him to stop even as he holds a gun to my head.
Death had stepped close that day, and I can feel the brush of its inevitability even now.
I can barely hear over the pounding of my heart.
Some badass mafia boss I am.
All around the room, the catering staff pull out guns to aim at the collected guests—around fifty of the richest and most influential people in New Valence.
Stefan positions himself between me and the man with the shotgun.
“This feels weird,” Stefan hisses to me. “Nobody carries cash or jewelry anymore. Who are they trying to rob?”
His words don’t reach me completely, not at first.
I’m sixteen years old again, bloody and broken and betrayed, and no one’s coming to save me.
Except someone does, and I wish he hadn’t.
I shake myself free of the memories. I have to stay calm. I’m always calm, always collected, and I can’t afford for Stefan to think I’m anything but.
“So, they’re here for someone in particular?” I ask, my voice steadier than my nerves.
Not me.
Please not me.
“Mr. X is going to be collecting all your cellphones. If you try something, you’re dead,” the masked ringleader says.
The catering staff have put on masks too, I realize. We’ve already seen their faces, though. How will this protect them?
Except how many of us paid attention to the caterers? I didn’t. I cling to my phone, reluctant to relinquish it, but Stefan shakes his head. “Not worth fighting right now, Boss,” he whispers.
I know that.
I know fighting is stupid.
But the idea of lying here passively brings back memories I wish I didn’t have.
Dante Cuore glares at the robber who approaches him. “You’re making a mistake,” he says to the masked man.
He’s known to be a hothead, every bit as heated as I am cool, and I wonder if he’s going to get himself shot from running his mouth.
“No,” the robber responds, his voice rough and angry. “You’re the one who fucked up, Cuore. I’m going to take him back.”
Taking who back?
I watch Dante closely, curious to see if he’s going to take the bait or if he’s going to back down.
The robber closest to me shoves me with his foot, drawing my attention to him. “Set the phone on the floor and kick it away, Vilani,” he orders me.
It shouldn’t surprise me that he knows who I am. So many people do, for better or for worse.
I reluctantly set my phone aside, my eyes flicking up to him. He’s about to step forward when he cries out, his eyes going wide in shock before he falls forward, flat onto his face.
Behind him is a tall, veiled woman, her white dress splashed in red.
No. Not a woman.
It’s Sin.
I may not be able to make out the face behind that veil, but I know it down to my core.
Was this his elaborate plan? Get gunmen involved so he can get close and finish me off personally? Or is this something else entirely?
I try to get up, but Stefan grabs my arm and forces me back down with a shake of his head.
I let out a low growl. I’m not going to be a sitting duck.
Not again.
Then one gunshot rings out, and another, then it’s like all they were waiting for was for a signal to start shooting the place up.
Fuck.
If I survive this, I owe Stefan a raise.