10. Chapter 10
Dario
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I drive through the city, past the tourist areas and toward a row of residential condos. Jasmine may not be living in a billion-dollar home, but she isn’t exactly slumming it either.
“Turn here,” she directs. The twenty-minute drive has been quiet and may be the longest I’ve gone without speaking. Instead, my brain has been reeling as I think about the woman in my casino who put her hands all over me.
I turn into a parking lot of a newly built condominium, confusing my passenger princess when I park in a freshly outlined spot. Jasmine looks over at me, then shakes her head and opens her door. She seems shocked when I do the same and make my way over to her.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I’m walking you to your door,” I reply, stating the obvious.
Jasmine looks at her building, then back to me. “That’s not necessary. Good night, Mr. Caruso.”
I grit my teeth at the formal way she says my name. We were making such great progress. “I believe it is very necessary, Miss Baker.”
She huffs and begins to walk away. I follow her into the main entrance and remain by her side as she presses the button for the elevator.
“I’m in my building. I’m safe. Goodbye.” She attempts to dismiss me again. When will she realize I’m not going anywhere?
When the elevator doors open, and I step inside with her, she glares at me. The doors close, but we don’t move. “You have to push the button to get it to go,” I explain.
Jasmine looks at the buttons and selects one. The doors open to reveal the ground floor. I remain still.
“Would you leave?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I would like to make sure you make it home safely.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m in my building. My perfectly safe building.”
“And when I walk you to your perfectly safe door and see you step inside your perfectly safe space, I’ll be happy.”
My little bull grunts and jabs the number sixteen with her thumb. The elevator doors close, and we creep upward, her radiating fire and me smiling like a fool.
When the doors open again, Jasmine steps out, and I do too, much to her dismay. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“Which door is yours?”
She rolls her eyes once more but doesn’t argue. We take a left, and she pulls out her keys to open the door at the end. “Okay, I’m here.”
“You’re not going to invite me in?” I ask cheekily.
“A resounding no,” she deadpans.
“Come on, Miss Baker. I could order us some dinner. Then we could have some—” I flick my tongue out over my lips. “Dessert.”
Jasmine pushes my chest. “Go get dessert with your handsy friend. You wanted to walk me to my door. This is my door. Now, good night, Dario.”
I capture my bull’s hands, a smile pulling at my lips. “My name sounds so good coming out of your mouth, Jasmine.”
I don’t miss the way her hazel eyes briefly flick to my lips before looking back up.
“Good night,” she says again.
“Good night, Jasmine,” I say, letting her go and stepping away. “I’ll see you around.”
“You’ll see me at the office.”
“It’s a date,” I say with a wink as I walk away.
“It’s not a date!” she shouts to my back.
Oh, it’s definitely a date.
“Talk to me,” I bark into the wireless system as soon as I get in my car. The voice from my head of security booms throughout the small space.
“Her name is Ruby De Luca. She’s been seen around town on the arm of Matty Matarazzo.”
“And the device?”
“Standard tracker.”
“Fuck!” I slam my hands against the steering wheel as I curse, but I’m thankful I didn’t keep it in my pocket and lead them straight to Jasmine. “How the hell did someone involved with the Matarazzo crew get into my casino?”
“We’re looking into it, boss,” Leo assures me. “We’ve got her in the cage. You want us to alert Luca?”
I consider his offer. “I’ll tell him. Keep some men on her in the Doom Room. Try to get her to squeal on what those fuckers are up to. In the meantime, I need you to meet me at the house with that tracker.”
I hang up and race across the city, headed to my family’s estate. Throw in my necessary rendezvous with Leo, and I’m so fucking past late, even by fashionable standards. Family dinner is about to get interesting.
Entering my father’s home, my fingers grip the round tracking device Leo met me with. I walk into the dining room where my dad sits at the head, Gio and Luca to each side of him. I’m not surprised to see my dad’s disappointment when his eyes meet mine.
“Family dinner not important to you, boy?”
“Sorry, Papa,” I say, trying to avoid an argument.
He starts in on his typical soapbox speech, and I keep my head down. Like every dinner with my dad, I’m reminded how my brothers can do no wrong, and I can do no right.
“You act like some fucking joker when you’re supposed to be a prince,” he jabs.
Salvatore Caruso, everybody. Father of the fucking year.
Gio and Luca sit wordless, knowing better than to stand up for me. Dinner has been like this for thirty-three years, but it’s been worse since my mother passed. I imagine it will continue this way until my father’s in his own grave.
His vitriol finally ceases when a member of our staff places a blackened branzino on the table. I hate fish almost as much as I hate coffee, but I refuse to tell him that.
“Did you get that new warehouse?” he barks out.
“Yes, Papa,” Gio answers dutifully. “The new shipment arrives as the ink dries. We have everything squared away.”
“My boy. My heir,” my father coos, and I hold in the urge to roll my eyes in the same manner as the buxom blonde I just left.
Luca passes me the potatoes, knowing I’m foregoing the fish. He might not say much, but he’s always taken care of me.
“Luca,” my father snarls, and I hold in a breath, afraid he’ll be reprimanded for his kindness. “Did you take care of that bastard who leaked our whereabouts?”
My quiet brother nods.
“Speak up, boy.”
“Yes, Papa. He’s gone.”
Luca’s voice is quiet, but my father seems satisfied and goes back to his dinner, granting us the reprieve of having any further conversation.
When our plates have been cleared, and another round of liquor has been poured, my old man speaks again. “Next week, the family is coming in. Every one of you’d better be here, and you’d better make me look good.” I don’t need to look up to know he’s staring at me.
We mutter our agreement, and when the man goes into a coughing fit, he retires for the night, leaving me alone with my brothers.
“Better make him look good?” Gio mocks, “Guess we need some tips from you, pretty boy. You’re the best looking out of all of us.”
I smirk as Gio tries to make me feel better. “Gonna need much longer than a week to do that.”
We laugh, and in an unusual turn of events, I’m the one who grows serious. “We have a situation,” I say, tossing the device from my pocket onto the table.
“What the fuck is this?” Gio demands.
Luca moves in to assess the small black device. He picks it up, holding it in his hands up to the light, before placing it back down. Then he brings his fist down upon it. Shards of plastic scatter, and Gio curses.
“Tracker,” Luca grunts.
“That,” I say, pointing to the shrapnel, “was planted on me inside my casino tonight.”
“Who?” Luca asks in his typical one-word way.
“Her name is Ruby De Luca, and she has been seen with Matty Matarazzo. My security team snagged her, and she’s down in your torture chamber now. They’re working on getting more information from her, but I figured if anyone could get her to turn on her boyfriend, you could.”
Luca grunts again, and when he looks to Gio, who gives a nod, he storms out of the room, and the slamming of a solid wooden door vibrates the house. The man loves a mission. Especially when it comes with the promise of pain.
Gio takes another swig from his glass, and I do the same.
We sit there for a moment, drinking and stewing on the fact that some nosy motherfucker out there sent someone into my sanctuary to fuck with us.
As soon as I see those mattress fuckers, I’m going to take that new gun of mine, and this time when I shoot a man’s nutsack off, it won’t be an accident.
“You think it’s a coincidence?” Gio finally asks, running his thumb and forefinger over the dark whiskers growing on his chin, though I can’t help but smile at the few gray ones that have recently appeared.
“Between the warehouse leak and now the tracker?” I ask, and he nods. “No fucking clue. They don’t seem to be connected, but I’m not gonna pretend I understand what goes on in the minds of those drug-smuggling idiots.”
Gio huffs, and it’s the closest to a laugh the man has gotten in years. “Why would they want to track us?”
I shake my head. “No idea, but they chose the right brother. You two motherfuckers barely leave the casino. That tracking job would be boring as hell.”
Gio doesn’t react to my comment. He can’t exactly deny it. “Have you gone anywhere of interest lately?”
I shake my head slowly, ticking my fingers as I name off each place. “Angelo. Demone. The law office.” I think about the last place I visited but consider it’s best not to bring Jasmine up right now. “I’ve been staying in my suite, so I haven’t even made it over here except tonight.”
“Maybe we should have let them track you.”
I’m surprised by my brother’s statement. “I’m third in line; you really feel the need to kill me off?”
Gio rolls his eyes, and it makes me think of my curvy goddess with a law degree. “You can hold your own.”
I’m taken aback by the compliment, but don’t speak so he can continue. “I think it would be interesting to see where they turn up.”
I snort. “Maybe I’ll get lucky, and they’ll send another babe over to feel me up and try again.”
“Yeah, maybe…” Gio’s voice trails off as his brain works like the mafia man he is. “Let’s hear from Luca and see what he finds out. We’ll keep this from Papa until we know more. Sound good?”
Keeping my father away from what’s happening in my life is the best fucking thing I’ve heard all day.