Chapter 9
I’ve barely stepped into the elevator when my phone rings. “What is it?” I ask, unable to keep the annoyance from my tone.
“Sir,” Mason says. “Mr. Tadesco is requesting to speak with you.”
“What the fuck? Tell him I’ll call him later.”
“Actually, he’s not on the phone. He’s at the reception desk downstairs. Says he’s going to start talking there if you don’t agree to meet with him.”
My jaw almost cracks with how hard I’m grinding my teeth. “Cancel anything I have for the next two hours. Have security escort him to my office. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Yes sir.”
As soon as I hang up, I dial Patrick. “We have a problem.”
He blows out a breath. “Don’t tell me. The alliance is calling you back.”
“Worse. Marco Tadesco is in the building and I can’t get him out until I listen to whatever the fuck he has to say. I don’t want a scene. But once I do get him to leave, you make sure he stays the fuck out. Is that clear?”
“You want me to escort him out, or take him out? Just need you to clarify.”
I pause before replying. If it were anyone else that dared to be so fucking impertinent, I’d have given him the same treatment I did Alan Tyler. But the Tadescos, whether or not they have someone on the throne, are powerful. I must tread carefully.
“Just make sure he can’t get back into the casino again,” I tell him.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Alexander,” Mason says when I pause at his desk located just outside my office.
“Is he on the way up?”
“He’s already in your office.” He nods toward the door. “There are two security officers with him.”
“Thanks. And Mason,” I call back to him before moving on. “There’s a young woman staying in the penthouse with me. She needs a dress for tonight. Please make sure that she gets one and be discreet about it.”
“Yes sir.”
With a long sigh, I enter my office. Marco is sitting at one of the two chairs in front of my desk, the security guards flanking him.
He turns to me with a snarky grin plastered to his face, one that says he got his way.
I toss my briefcase onto the desk and take my seat. Tilting my head, I stare at him, at his beady eyes and disturbingly large mole on his left cheek. Pointing to it, I ask, “You ever get that checked?”
His smile vanishes and he subconsciously rubs at it. “It’s fine. I’ve had it since I can remember.”
“Yeah, but has it always been that big?” Now I’m the one that grins. “I’m sure it’s nothing. But you never know. Anything can kill you now a days, right?”
A grayish hue spreading over his skin, he giggles in a way that makes me cringe. He shifts in his seat. “You tryin’ to scare me?”
“Just making sure you’re being careful. Dangerous things don’t always look it.”
“You’re dangerous, Gavin.” He raises his palms in a placating gesture. “I know it as well as anyone. I know the company you keep and the things you do if they betray you.”
“Then why the fuck pester me like this?”
“If it weren’t important, I wouldn’t be here.”
I motion for my security to leave. When the door closes behind them, I say to Marco, “Well, you’ve got my attention.”
He settles deeper into his seat. “I wanted to speak with you about the alliance.”
“What about it?”
“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. It was a mistake not to join.”
“What made you change your mind? Last I recall, you didn’t like that Luca was heading up the team.”
His jaw tenses. It’s obvious he still doesn’t like the idea of Luca in control. “I’d like to take my father’s place. If I don’t, the Tadescos are through in Chicago.”
“Why come to me? You should have gone to Luca and Carina.”
“I already went to them,” he informs me, frustration visible in his expression.
“And?” I want to hear his side.
“Let’s just say, the bitch wasn’t exactly open to it. Neither was his wife.” He giggles again, his upper lip quivering.
“Careful, Marco,” I warn. “I consider them family.”
He recovers his composure quickly, but the tension in his face remains. “Sorry. It just grated my nerves that he refused to aid me after that whole speech about joining forces. Even though my Pops was the first to die at the hands of Gideon, I’m being left out in the cold.”
“What about your father’s men? Are they standing behind you?”
Shaking his head, he says, “Most are too scared. They’ve seen what the Ferryman does to anyone that tries to take control. No one is willing to stand up to him without the backing of the alliance.”
What he’s saying is true. Gideon is a looming threat to anyone that attempts to position themselves as head of one of the families that took out his father. And yet, that hasn’t stopped any of us from trying. Noah, Rowan and I have all taken the risk on our own. Our men have all been willing to stand by us. The alliance has simply provided the support needed to maintain our place.
Though I suppose in my instance, I didn’t inherit anything from my father. My position is my own. But I have kept the one and only thing my brother had a hand in open. The Red.
Marco, on the other hand, has been hiding in the shadows, too afraid to take the throne that should rightfully be his. Of course his men won’t follow him if they sense his fear.
“I’m not sure what you think I can do for you,” I tell him.
“Carina offered to put it up for vote. I want to know if I can count on you.”
I sit back and observe him. The way his right eye twitches in sync with the tapping of his index finger over his knee and the battle he seems to be doing to keep that annoying giggle at bay.
Giuseppe Tadesco ruled Chicago for almost two decades. He was a feared and respected leader. Hell, my brother chose him over family.
But strong fathers don’t always make strong sons. In Marco’s case, this couldn’t be more evident. He reeks of weakness. It rolls off him in a stench that anyone would reject. And he knows it.
If he did attempt to take over Giuseppe’s business, Gideon would make mincemeat out of him without even trying.
Marco must see the hesitation in my eyes because he sits forward. His leg shaking furiously, he says, “Come on, man. You all depend on Chicago. We’re too big to fall.”
“Chicago will be fine. Someone will rule it. But it won’t be you, Marco. I’m sorry. I cannot give you my vote.”
He stares at me long at hard, the veins in his forehead protruding as he attempts to quell his obvious anger. “You know, if it wasn’t for my Pops, your brother would have been nothing.”
“And if it was your Pops in front of me now, my answer might be different.”
“You know what? Fuck you. Fuck all of you!” He pounds a fist against my desk as he stands. “Don’t come running to me when you need something. Cause I won’t give you shit.”
“I’ll do my best not to.”
* * *
In what proves to be the longest day in history, I have an odd number of meeting cancelations, not one single theft in the casino, and other than Johnny Rusk, a gangster turned casino man himself, requesting a personal tour of The Red and the club, there’s nothing much to occupy my mind from the blonde in my home.
Even when I’m standing in front of him, I can hardly keep myself from thinking about her. Her smell. Her taste. The way she felt wrapped around my cock.
While I’m positive she wasn’t a virgin, unless her daughter is the product of some immaculate conception, she was tight. So much tighter than I expected. Does that mean she hasn’t been with a man in a long time? Or is she naturally narrower?
Both thoughts turn me on, the first, because the idea of her with any other man makes me want to erase him out of existence. If anyone is going to stretch her, mold her, it will be me. And if it’s simply that she’s got a slim fit, I’m okay with squeezing in.
“So you say you don’t own Club Voyeur?” Rusk asks.
I turn to the short man, somewhat surprised to see him standing in front of me. We came down into the club he’s finally rich enough to know about and wanted to see it. He walked around the empty, quiet space for so long, my thoughts drifted to somewhere less boring.
“The walls and everything in it is mine,” I tell him, running my hand over one of the upturned chairs set on a table. “As are fifty percent of the profits. The name, rights and client list belong to a woman from Florida. She has very tight control over the way things are run inside the club.”
“If all you get is fifty percent, what’s the appeal?”
“In order for her clients to walk through those,” I point to the double doors lined in red tufted velvet, “They have to come through mine.”
He gives me a smile full of gold teeth. “I see. I’d like to come while it’s open. And if I like it, I want you to get me in touch with this woman.”
“Tell you what. You be my guest tomorrow night. If you’re interested, I’ll give her your name. And if she’s interested, she’ll call you.”
What I don’t tell him is that Seidi Perrelli is unlikely to be interested in him or his illegal casino out in Los Angeles. Yes, he’s made a name for himself, is wealthy enough to own part of the L.A. underground and maybe even has some sway in politics. But he’s still covered in head to toe gold, diamonds and fur. He screams new money. Dirty money.
Even though Seidi deals in the immoral and sinful, she’s too fucking classy for him.
“I heard clients can perform with the cast?” Johnny asks, his brows lifting in excitement.
I look at him. “That’s for members only. Don’t forget, you’re attending as my guest. Which means you can look, but you can’t touch.”
“Ah, I see. Well, we must follow the rules, right?” Again, he gives me a gold-filled smile. “I will see you tomorrow night.”
As Gustavo escorts him out, I get a chill up my spine. There’s all sorts of bad in my world. I’m so accustomed to it I’ve become numb. Every once in a while, however, I meet someone with a little extra evil. Johnny strikes me as that.
But he’s not my problem. And if he’s smart enough, he’ll never be.