19. Adriano
Adriano
I stride into the offices of Willing-Morris Fund and gaze over my kingdom. The remaining traders and support staff pretend like they’re busy, and those that meet my stare give me the fakest smiles I’ve ever seen in my life.
These people fucking hate me.
I’m everything they were born to loathe. The traders are clever men and women from impeccable breeding. It’s not enough to go to the best schools—the WM Fund only hires those with the proper names.
And I’m the barbarian they’ve struggled so hard to keep from their gates.
It’s bad enough my money comes from illicit ventures. I deal in products: cocaine, heroin, weed, gambling, protection rackets. But it’s not the morality they despise.
It’s the crass capitalism.
These people think they float above it. They create their financial speculative assets and act as though their hands are clean.
They invest, chase an edge against the market, and go home to sleep in their overpriced beds with their overpriced spouses and their overpriced brats.
And because they’re not out on the streets with the common man, they think they’re better than everyone else.
But now they’re forced to deal with me.
And they fucking hate it.
“Good morning, traders,” I say, beaming wide now. I can’t help myself. “Are we going to have a good day?”
“Absolutely, sir,” one of the more ass-kissing traders pipes up for the whole office. “We’ll chase the alpha like always.”
I make a mental note to fire that guy.
“Good. Get to work.” I turn away and head toward my office. Formerly Pierre’s office. He’s now shoved in a smaller room down the hall from me, which clearly kills him, but he can’t do a damn thing about it.
“Good morning, Mr. Marino. Your morning meeting is waiting.” My secretary is a young woman named Jessie.
She was working at one of my clubs until I brought her over.
She’s blonde with lots of tattoos and big fake tits, the exact kind of woman who would never get a job in a place like this.
I encourage her to show off her intricately inked sleeve, if only to make the stuffy assholes on the trading floor scowl.
Despite the way she looks, Jessie’s smart and organized, and I trust her more than any of the vipers in this place.
“How long has she been in there?” We pause outside my office. The blinds are drawn, and I can’t see inside.
“Ten minutes or so. She’s asked me like twelve times already where you are. I think she’s pissed.”
“Good. Let her stew. Did you get her coffee?”
“Sure did. Made her the crappy stuff though.” Jessie grins at me.
“That’s why I hired you.” I take a deep breath and blow it out. “Bring me an espresso in ten minutes. I’m going to need something after this.”
“Good luck.”
I push into my office, and immediately I’m assaulted by Helena Willing-Morris’s absurd cloud of perfume. Her white hair is perfectly coiffed, and she’s in a light blue pantsuit today, looking like a washed-up state senator.
“Where have you been?” Helena snaps as I close the door behind me. “I was told you’d be here at nine sharp?—”
“Sit back down, Helena. We have to talk about your massive fuck-up.”
She stares at me in open astonishment. I hold her gaze and don’t blink.
This woman is not used to someone talking to her like that. She’s been taking charge and laying down the law all her life, but she doesn’t have any power in here anymore. Now that I own the fund and I’m married to her granddaughter, Helena’s influence over my life is absolutely zero.
Which is also about how much respect I have left for her.
“How dare you talk to me that way,” she says, looking furious as I head around my desk. “I don’t care who you think you are, but nobody?—”
“You fucking lied to me.”
She stops talking. Her jaw works, but her eyes narrow in thought. This woman is crafty and clever, and she’s already figuring out what I’m talking about. I sink down into my chair but remain leaning forward, taking control of the room with my body language.
“What, exactly, do you think I lied about?”
“Demir Yilmaz.”
She hesitates before sitting sharply. Her legs cross, and she considers me primly. “I told you already, my lawyers are handling that snake.”
“And I’m sure that’s true, but we both know that won’t come to anything.” I study her for a moment, considering my plan of attack. “Do you know who detonated that car bomb during my wedding to Lucy?”
The sudden change of subject catches her off guard. “The police say it was a terrorist attack.”
“But a terrorist attack by whom?”
“I don’t know. You can go ahead and ask the mayor for all I care. That has nothing to do?—”
“It was Gray Wolf,” I say, cutting her off.
Her jaw flexes. Again, she doesn’t panic. It’s almost admirable. “And who is that?” she asks, which is smart. Pretend like she doesn’t know.
“Gray Wolf is the criminal organization fronted by Demir Yilmaz. The same Demir you pretended isn’t important.
But we both know you were lying because your deal with him extends much further than a simple loan against assets.
” I press my lips together for a moment. “Unless you consider Lucy an asset.”
Helena says nothing. She drops the outraged pretense. Her face goes cold as she considers me, one manicured fingernail tapping against a gold necklace at her throat. “You really believe that man?”
“I believe the tortured and brutalized associates of his that I tossed into the river.”
Her mouth quirks. “Admitting to murder?”
“Don’t act scandalized. You know who I am. What I want to know is, why did you do it? Why did you promise Lucille to Demir only to give her away to me instead?”
I expect her to deny it. I don’t have definite proof of any deal yet. Demir says it happened, and his actions suggest it’s true, but that’s still circumstantial.
Instead, the old woman leans back in her chair.
“I did what I had to do to protect my family,” she says simply.
I let that sink in. It’s true, all of it. Helena offered her granddaughter to Demir as part of their arrangement, but she went back on her agreement to him and married the girl to me instead.
She pushed me into a war with Gray Wolf without ever saying a word.
The clever fucking bitch.
“Why would you get me involved in this? Demir’s got power and influence. If that’s all you needed, why not let Lucy marry him like you promised?”
She scowls at me like I’m the dumbest man alive. “Do you really think I’d ever let my blood get near that Turkish pig? You think I’d let my granddaughter, useless as she is, breed with that animal? You’re bad, Adriano, but your organization is nowhere near as bad as Gray Wolf.”
“This is about racism? You can’t stand the idea of your granddaughter marrying a Turkish man, so you decided to start a war?”
She barks a sharp laugh. “If only it were that simple. I don’t care about race .
This is about morality. From the outside, Gray Wolf smuggles stolen artifacts.
And that’s true; they have a stranglehold over the high-end antiques business all over the world thanks to their private auctions and their authentication services.
But they smuggle far more than just a bunch of old paintings and pottery. ”
I tilt my head. From what I know, Gray Wolf really does stick to their specialty. There are always rumors, but I’ve mostly ignored those since I don’t have any business with them.
“You’re talking about the girls.”
Her mouth twitches as she nods, eyes narrowed.
“Young girls. The younger, the better. I didn’t know about any of this when I first made the deal with Demir, but once the weight of our financial struggles began to lift thanks to the loan he gave me, I began to research my future family members. And I did not like what I found.”
She stands and drifts over to the window. Her body language is tense, but she retains her quiet dignity. I doubt this woman’s ever been out of control of herself, at least not for a very, very long time.
“Preteens from Jakarta,” she says quietly like she’s listing off items on a shipping container.
And maybe that’s what she’s doing. “Sisters from Indonesia. A dozen girls taken from an orphanage in rural China. Six more from Pakistan. More from war-torn Syria, the Philippines, every poverty-stricken corner of this world where awful people will do awful things to survive. Gray Wolf uses their smuggling network to move the girls to where they need to be. Typically to yachts anchored off various private islands. Sometimes to mansions right here in the States. Wealthy people have all sorts of tastes, Adriano, and there is always a market somewhere.”
I sit back and let it wash over me. It’s one thing to run sex workers—there are plenty of men in my position who will gladly employ dozens of OnlyFans models—but another entirely to turn girls into glorified sex slaves.
My hands curl as I try to picture all the horrors these rich fucks get away with, protected by their enormous bank accounts and their power.
While somehow, I’m the monster. I’m the man they hate.
“How did you learn about all this?” I ask finally.
“Sources inside the various operations.” She waves a hand dismissively. “I can provide proof, but I suspect you don’t need it.”
“What, you grew a conscience?”
“Don’t talk to me about a conscience,” she snaps, turning to glare at me with ice in her eyes. “I’ve done many things to protect my family, but even I have lines I won’t cross.”
I lean back and consider. “Let me understand this then. You realized you promised your granddaughter to a human trafficking piece of shit, and you panicked. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being related to those people. You went looking for someone else.”
“Not just anyone else,” she says, staring right at me now. “I needed someone with enough money to help my family, someone in need of a bride with a good name, and someone with enough power to stop Demir and Gray Wolf when they inevitably had issues with my betrayal. Which is why I chose you.”
Well, fuck me.
I hate to admit it, but I’m impressed.
The conniving old snake found a perfect patsy in me. She played it magnificently as well. Somehow, she kept her secret until after the wedding, after it was already finalized.
But she didn’t consider one thing.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t divorce Lucy right now and leave you all to the wolves?”
She shakes her head and returns to her chair. “You won’t do that.”
“I didn’t sign up for a war.”
“But you won’t let Demir take Lucy. You’re not that kind of man.”
“You don’t know me that well.”
She picks up her bag and rests it under her arm.
“You married her, Adriano. She’s your wife now.
I’m not so naive as to think you haven’t consummated the relationship.
Whatever there is between you two, I don’t think you’ll throw her away now, not knowing what’ll happen if you do.
You can hate me all you want. Blame me for this.
But you will protect Lucille. You will protect the fund and the Willing-Morris family. You have no other choice.”
I stand. A dozen thoughts rush through my head. I want to curse her. Tell her Lucy doesn’t matter to me. Nobody matters to me that much. There’s only the Marino Famiglia and nothing else.
Except it’d be a lie.
Helena Willing-Morris cornered me. She maneuvered me exactly where she wanted me, and now I’m trapped by her plan. And if I were any other man, I’d kill the old woman and leave Lucy to her fate, all to avoid a vicious confrontation with a powerful enemy.
But I’m not weak. And Lucy is mine .
“If I destroy Demir and Gray Wolf, it won’t be for you,” I tell Helena as she walks to the door.
“I don’t care why you do it, so long as you do it.”
Then she’s gone.
I slump back into my chair.
It was all true from the start. And Gray Wolf is even worse than I thought.
There’s no way in hell I’d ever let them get anywhere near Lucy.
Not my wife. Not the woman that haunts my dreams and makes me want more than I’ve ever wanted in my life.
I close my eyes and I can taste her tongue, honey sweet and heaven bright.
I can see her down on her knees, her hands behind her back.
I can feel her bare ass under my hand. Lucy swirls in me now and I can’t stop it, even if I wanted to.
I’m trapped by my own need, caught in a nightmare.
And now I’ll have to kill my way through.
There’s a light knock at the door. Jessie enters with my espresso. “Donatella’s on the phone,” she says, frowning at my expression. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, thank you.” I take a sip. It’s strong and dark, but it doesn’t wash the bad taste from my mouth. When my secretary is gone, I pick up the phone.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Adriano, but it’s your father.” Donatella sounds worried. “He’s not doing well.”
“Is it something new?”
“I can’t say exactly. He took longer to get out of bed this morning. He seems even more out of it than usual. Like he can’t remember how to wash himself.”
“Should we call the doctor?”
“Not yet.” She pauses, and I can hear the faint sound of a Western in the background. “I just wanted to keep you updated. We knew this was coming.”
I close my eyes. Just the fucking news I needed.
“If it gets worse, tell me.”
“I will. I’m sorry, Adriano. I’m doing the best I can to keep him comfortable.”
“I know you are.”
We hang up. I sit in silence and drink the espresso. I let it burn my tongue and throat.
I can already see what’s going to happen. My father’s decline. Gray Wolf’s aggression. War and death. Blood coming, thick and fast. And through it all, there’s my wife, the only beam of light in an otherwise terrible night.
A woman worth protecting.
Even at the cost of everything else I love.