Chapter 13 #2
She is bare beneath it, all soft curves and sun-kissed skin and the faint pink marks my mouth left on her inner thighs last night.
I watch her settle onto the sunning mat, her body stretched out beside the infinity pool like an offering to the gods, and my hand moves to my belt before I consciously decide to unbuckle it.
I activate the video call and watch her eyes widen as my face appears on her phone screen, followed by the view of my hand wrapped around my cock in my darkened office.
"I want to watch you touch yourself," I say, my voice rough with need. "Show me how you like it, little dove. Let me see what makes you fall apart."
The flush that spreads across her cheeks is visible even through the phone's camera, but she does not look away. Instead, her hand drifts down her stomach with agonizing slowness, her fingers finding the wet heat between her thighs while I stroke myself in time with her movements.
We build together, her soft moans and my harsh breathing creating a symphony of need that transcends the distance between us.
I watch her back arch off the mat, watch her free hand grip the fabric beneath her as the pleasure builds, watch her lips form my name in a soundless cry as she tips over the edge and takes me with her.
"Stay there," I manage, my voice wrecked and breathless. "I am on my way up."
I clean myself with efficient movements and straighten my clothing, fully intending to join my wife on that rooftop and spend the rest of the afternoon showing her exactly how much I want her.
But when I step into the hallway, Massimo is waiting with an expression that tells me my plans are about to be made for me.
"Genesis responded," he says without preamble. "They are ready for us on the dark floor. Fiore is already there."
I pause mid-stride, surprise flickering through me before I can mask it. "That was fast. I was expecting it to take longer."
Massimo grunts his agreement. "So was I. Harlon didn’t sound happy about any of this."
I shrug. “Doesn’t change the fact that I have Persia’s willing signature and Magnus does not.”
“Do I confirm? Wouldn’t look good if we ask for an extension for no good reason.”
Massimo is right. Genesis operates on their timeline, not mine, even if I did request the meeting. I don’t want to send the wrong message to the men who hold the contracts of the underworld in their capable hands.
I take out my phone and type a message to Persia.
Something came up. I will be back soon.
Then I follow Massimo to the elevator, leaving my wife naked and waiting on a rooftop while I go to war with her father.
It takes us half an hour to get to Club Genesis.
I have to laugh, because the place has a villains-are-us vibe.
It occupies a five story exposed brick building in the heart of Chicago's wealthy district.
Its exterior screams wealth and elegance as much as the interior does with its white marble floors and red leather furniture.
It has a kind of old-money elegance that speaks of power accumulated over generations.
Club rules are enforced at the door and we are relieved of any weapons. Harlon hates cleaning up blood and I frankly can’t blame the man. Criminals are a ruthless bunch of bloodthirsty fuckers.
Massimo and I are escorted three levels up to the dark floor where contracts and deals are made.
The man leading us has dead eyes and a gun poorly concealed beneath his jacket.
He’s a Genesis runner. As I understand it, he’s one of the many employed by Genesis who sees to it that contracts are enforced or you turn up dead for his bosses.
The runner leads us through corridors that grow progressively more secure until we reach a room that exists outside the normal rules of civilization.
Harlon Constantine sits at the head of a long mahogany table, his dark hair swept back from a face that has negotiated peace treaties and death warrants with equal composure. I know because I was a part of them.
Flanking him are Cassius with his deceptively easy smile and Santi with his sharp jaw and sharper instincts. The three of them form a tribunal that has destroyed empires and built new ones from the ashes.
I know this too, because Redthorn is one such empire.
And sitting across from them, looking diminished in a way that brings me deep satisfaction, is Governor Barret Fiore.
Persia's father looks like he has aged a decade in the weeks since I crashed his daughter's wedding.
His round spectacles sit crooked on his nose, and his hands tremble slightly where they rest on the table in front of him.
The arrogance that once defined his every movement has been replaced by something closer to fear, and I find myself wondering if he has any idea what his greed has cost him.
"Milano." Harlon's voice is smooth as aged whiskey, giving nothing away.
“Harlon. Men. Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”
Harlon inclines his head. “It’s my understanding the Governor was eager to resolve this matter. We are here to make negotiations easy."
“And with few to no bodies.” Santi shoots me a wink that says but he doesn’t mind a few if it’s called for.
I settle into the chair opposite Fiore and let the silence stretch between us, watching the older man squirm beneath the weight of my attention.
"The contract, please." I extend my hand toward Massimo without breaking eye contact with the man who sold his daughter like livestock. "Let us make this official and be done. I have a wife to get back to."
That shoots a blast of red into the Governor’s aging cheeks.
Massimo produces the documents Persia signed last night, and lays it on the table with the careful precision of a man who understands the gravity of what we are doing.
“The terms are straightforward. Persia belongs to me now, legal and binding in the eyes of the underworld, and in exchange I will keep the evidence of Barret Fiore's sins buried deep enough that they never see the light of day.”
Without a word Harlon picks up the contract and moves it toward Fiore.
“I have backup copies so if you try to rip this copy up, it won’t do anything but irritate me.”
Fiore reads through the contract with lips pressed into a thin line, his pen hovering over the signature space for a long moment before he finally scratches his name across the page.
"You have her," he says, his voice carrying a bitterness that makes my hands curl into fists beneath the table. "But you will have to deal with my friend.”
I turn to the man who owns Genesis. “Harlon. Would you like to address the issue with Magnus’ contract with Fiore?”
“Hm. Yes. About that.”
Harlon turns a hard look at the defeated Governor. “Did your daughter sign the contract with Magnus of her own free will?”
He stammers before answering, most likely because Fiore can’t find it in himself to think a woman would have the mind to do anything of her own free will. “She’s my daughter and I have control over everything she does. I have the sole right to marry her off as I see fit.”
“Actually, you don’t.”
Fiore’s face is a glowing ball of red. “I promised her to Magnus before you decided to interfere."
The laugh that escapes my throat is dark and utterly without humor. “Your friend is a pussy who starts fires in basements instead of facing his enemies like a man. Tell him if he lights another match in my building, I will burn his entire empire to ash in a single night."
Harlon shifts in his chair, and I feel the weight of his attention settle over me like a physical force. "If there is a problem between you and Sterling, we expect you to keep it civil. Too many people could get hurt if this escalates beyond reason."
I meet his gaze without flinching, letting him see the violence that lives just beneath the surface of my carefully constructed control.
"I am not a man who seeks violence for its own sake, Constantine.
But I protect what is mine with everything I have.
I will pay whatever dues you require if blood spills, but I will not be controlled or told to hold back when someone threatens my family. "
The room goes still, the air thick with tension and the particular silence that precedes either violence or understanding.
Harlon studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes calculating odds and outcomes with the precision of a man who has survived in this world by knowing exactly when to push and when to yield.
"Understood," he says finally, and I hear the warning in the single word, accept it for what it is.
Harlon takes the contract and puts the Genesis seal on it.
It’s final. Persia is safe.
Fiore pushes back from the table, the contract now bearing both our signatures. "You have what you wanted. The contract and my daughter." His voice carries a coldness that makes my jaw clench with barely contained fury. "I expect not to hear from you again."
I rise to my feet slowly, letting the movement speak of the power I hold over this broken man.
"I never took you for a cold, callous man, Governor.
But if you truly never want to see your daughter again, that is fine by me.
We are a package deal. She will never be in the same room with you again without protection. "
"That is not what I meant."
"Then let me be clear." I lean forward, planting my hands on the table and bringing my face close enough to his that he can see the murder in my eyes.
"I will never let you traumatize her again.
You have done enough damage to that woman when all she ever wanted was to make you happy.
Why else do you think she walked down that aisle to begin with, instead of fleeing the night you forced her hand? "
Fiore has nothing to say to that, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
"You were supposed to protect her," I continue, each word landing like a blow. "Not use her as currency to cover your own ass like she’s nothing more than a body to use. You make my stomach churn."
"And what have you done?" The question comes out strangled, desperate. "If not the same thing?"
I straighten to my full height and look down at the man who destroyed his own daughter's spirit through years of abuse and manipulation.
"I took her away from men who wanted nothing more than to play her as a pawn.
What happens from here on out is not up to you.
You will never have that control over her again. "
Something shifts in Fiore's expression, fear giving way to something that looks almost like satisfaction.
"I might be weak compared to you, Milano.
But my best friend does not share my constitution.
Magnus lacks control and he hates losing.
" Fiore pauses, letting the words settle into the space between us.
"You stole from him, and he will do the collecting. "
The threat hangs in the air as I turn and walk out of the room, Massimo falling into step beside me as we navigate the corridors back toward the entrance.
Harlon steps out with us and I turn on him. “You need to get your house in order. If I hadn’t stepped in, that man would have ruined a woman’s life and you would have never known that contract was against Genesis rules from conception.”
Harlon considers me a minute and I know if it comes to blows I will have to go toe to toe with a man I can take, but not without pain.
His shoulders pinned back but he’s not posturing. He’s intent on being heard, but he’s also listening.
“Don’t let this happen again. You need permission before stepping on other people’s deals, whether they're legal in the eyes of Genesis or not. Understood?”
“It won’t. I already have what I want. I don’t need another bride. I have Persia.”
Harlon turns and leaves us to find our own way out.
"That was a warning," Massimo says once we are clear of Genesis ears.
"I know."
"Magnus is not going to let this go either."
"I know that too."
I need something on those three to get them to back the fuck off. But that will have to be after I get the Governor and his BFF under control. One beast at a time.
We step into the late afternoon sunlight, and I reach for my phone to text Persia that I am on my way back when Massimo stops me with a hand on my arm.
"There is something else." He pulls out his own phone and shows me a message that makes my blood run cold and hot at the same time.
"We have buyers coming in for the art pieces we are moving through the Gilded Key Society in New Orleans.
One hundred forty million on the table, and they have a three-hour window before they leave the country. "
I shake my head, already moving toward the car. "Tell them it has to wait. Persia has been alone all day."
"It cannot wait, brother." Massimo's voice carries an urgency that makes me pause. "But that is not the interesting part. They say they have information you will want. About Harlon."
That stops me cold. “You’re kidding.”
I turn to face my legal counsel, searching his expression for any sign of deception. "What kind of information?"
"The kind that could make the men of Genesis back off your heels permanently." Massimo shrugs one broad shoulder. "He says he has dirt on a man who used to be part of their trio."
My mind races through the implications, cataloging everything I know about the three men who just witnessed my contract with Fiore. "There is a fourth guy?"
"Apparently." Massimo's smile carries no warmth. "And a dead wife."
I stand there in the fading afternoon light, torn between the woman waiting for me in my penthouse and the opportunity to gain leverage over the organization that has been circling my empire like sharks scenting blood.
"Tell them we will be there this evening," I say finally, hating myself for the decision even as I make it.
I pull out my phone and check the security feed one more time, watching Persia move through the penthouse with a restlessness that mirrors my own.
She has dressed since our video call, wearing a flowing skirt and one of those thin blouses that make her look like something out of a summer dream, and the sight of her makes my chest ache with a longing I do not have words for.
I want to show her that I am not like her father. Not like Magnus. I want to prove that she is more than a contract and a signature and a means to an end.
And so I type out a message that I hope will be the first step toward becoming the man she deserves.
On my way to pick you up. Put on the red dress and those diamond earrings. We have a date in New Orleans.