4. Adriano
Chapter four
Adriano
A loud crack of thunder booms across the sky, followed by slashes of lightning. My eyes snap open, beads of perspiration trailing down my neck, down to my spine.
Fucking nightmare.
They’ve been a part of my nightly routine since the massacre. The shots always echo first, then I wake up with my jaw locked, teeth aching, and heart beating like it wants out of my chest.
My nightmares always start the same way. My mother is welcoming me home from my business trip in New York. And then gunshots. Followed by screams.
My chest tightens as I remember how the life left her eyes when the bastard shot her right between them. Mother was beautiful, full of life. She was the only reason I strived to keep the shred of morality I had left in this godforsaken world.
Now that she’s gone… It’s gone.
I’ve always known peace isn’t for men like me. But fuck do I crave even a semblance of it when I finally have my revenge. Shooting a glance at the calendar on my nightstand, I release a deep breath. It’s almost time.
Four years ago, I began laying the foundations to rebuild my father’s mafia with the few brethren who weren’t present during the attack. By the time I’d gathered enough intel, I had infiltrated the Rossi territory as a low-level guard.
Then, when I became part of Enzo’s security detail two years ago, I began gathering whatever info I could to cripple the Rossis financially. Who they had bad blood with, their major suppliers, routes…anything valuable.
I gathered enough to ease the job for when the time comes. Except for one piece. The offshore accounts. Dean had been smart enough to only let two people in on sensitive details about the offshore accounts. Enzo… and the family’s consigliere (consultant)—the anonymous consigliere.
Enzo, of course, would die before he reveals that knowledge, but if I can find this consigliere… with some leverage, they might be willing to talk.
Either way, siphoning the Rossis’ funds will be the last move I’ll make… after I’ve ruined them all.
And now, to top it all, I have exclusive access to the Don’s most cherished item. Perhaps I could repay him in the exact same coin that he paid my mother.
***
We’re outside tonight for one of Elena’s functions, some social class parade disguised as a charity gala. Everything’s going on at once around us. The hushed whispers of expensive gossip, cocktails clinking, and cameras flashing.
Elena stands near the center of the courtyard, weight shifting subtly from one heel to the other, the slightest tension in her posture betraying her boredom as she speaks to a couple.
I remain three steps behind her by both habit and design. The couple leaves, then she resumes greeting donors, touching arms of familiar faces and laughing a little too loudly at both compliments and jokes until a man stops to greet her.
He looks to be in his mid-forties, dressed in a tailored suit, a wedding band gleaming on his finger. He’s staring down at her, his pupils dilating every time he makes her laugh.
His posture is relaxed, pulse steady, and demeanor calm. He’s in no position to be called a threat; still, when he takes a fractionally closer step, my jaw locks.
I feel the insatiable urge to break his jaw.
She’s in a fire-red gown that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, her beautiful blonde hair pinned up just enough to expose the slender nape of her neck, her bare shoulders catching the glow of streetlights.
It takes far more restraint to keep my eyes where they belong, and even more to ignore the men who don’t even bother trying to hide their stares.
My chest tightens as I scan the crowd for signs of anything suspicious. Assignments like this make me itch. The noise, the movement, the unpredictability; I thrive on it. And fuck do my fingers itch for some action, but the professional side of me knows that a quiet night is a successful one.
Apart from Elena herself, one downside to this job is that there’s barely any fun. Being in Enzo’s security detail still allowed some flexibility where I killed… unleashed the monster locked inside me. But here I just have to deal with… her.
The man she’d been speaking with finally excuses himself. She waits a beat, then approaches me.
“I need to use the restroom,” she says sweetly. Too sweetly that my senses are on high alert. I swear if she’s up to something…
She starts to walk, and I follow closely. Somewhere between scanning the crowd and her, my gaze slides to the high slit cutting up her dress, stopping around her mid-thigh. She’s model-tall and lean, but her ass still holds enough flesh to make my dick twitch.
And though I shouldn’t, I can’t help but imagine fucking her again.
Suddenly, she stops and spins on her heel, lips squeezing into a frown.
“You’re not following me to the restroom, are you?”
I inhale sharply, thankful it’s a bit dark, and no one can see the fucking hard-on in my pants.
“Behave, Elena.”
She gasps dramatically, eyes wide. “You pervert.”
I don’t reply, and half expect her to pull the ‘I’ll tell Enzo’ card when she scoffs and walks away. Before she turns, I catch a mischievous glint in her eyes. And the next thing I know, she bolts, speed walking through the crowd to cut a corner up ahead.
My jaw tightens as I push through the crowd without breaking stride, ignoring the irritation bubbling in my chest. When I cut the corner, she disappears around a marble pillar, her heels clicking even faster against the marble now.
I initially thought she could be leverage or an asset, but she’s just a fucking headache.
I catch up to her near the private garden entrance, fingers closing around her wrist before she can slip further away. She spins, lips parted in a mischievous smile that tells me she expected this.
“Let go of me,” she says lightly, like we’re flirting and not one bad second away from a security breach.
I lean in, barely restraining my temper. “Do you have a death wish, or are you just bored?”
“Wanted to give you a run for your money.” She shrugs casually, and I almost drive my head into a wall when she tries to do a spin below my hand as if we’re dancing.
Doesn’t she understand the severity of her actions?
“You don’t walk ahead of me.” My nostrils flare in annoyance. “You don’t walk alone. You move when I move.”
She leans closer and sneers. “I don’t think so.”
I almost laugh in her face. “Tell me no again and watch how fast the word dies on your tongue.”
She freezes for a split second. I’m satisfied with the silence that eats the space between us until she swallows and rolls her eyes. “Oh, I’m scared,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
My jaw clenches. “Your little games can get you killed.”
“Good. Because your attitude can get you fired,” she retorts with distaste, her red-painted lips pouting into a frown as she struggles to pry away from my grip.
Fuck.
I don’t let her. My thumb presses into the inside of her wrist with just enough pressure to remind her I’m not one of her admirers.
“There are four exits I haven’t cleared. Two faces I don’t recognize, and one man who’s been staring at you like he wants to strip you naked with his eyes,” I growl, voice low and hard. “Don’t fucking test my patience, Elena.”
Her gaze flicks briefly past me, then back, defiance sparking yet again. “You’ve forgotten once more, you do not get to control me.”
Something hot and reckless coils low in my gut.
This is the moment. The point where instinct takes over, where I want to haul her closer and silence her with my mouth, bruise her lips until she understands exactly who’s holding the reins.
I don’t.
I force my grip to loosen, fingers sliding from her wrist, even though every muscle in my body screams at me to do the opposite.
“Defy me again and I become the devil you swear you don’t believe in,” I say tightly.
Her lips fold into a sneer. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
I can. And I fucking will.
I straighten and dig my hands into my pockets. “If you intend to live longer to sell more glorified air fresheners, then you fucking stick with me.”
For a second, something shifts in her expression. And I can see the wheels spinning in her head, like she’s conjuring some annoying response. Then a smirk spreads across her face.
“Seems I unlocked the sarcastic Adrian. I thought you were all muscles and shit.”
I clench my teeth but don’t respond. And she doesn’t fucking drop it.
“Tell me,” she begins in a sweet voice. “What other tricks do you have up your sleeve? Since you’re being chauvinistic now.”
“Back to the gala, Elena,” I deadpan.
“Thought you wanted me to stick with you?” She smirks.
Then she can be my fucking guest. When I don’t respond, she huffs and steps back into the crowd.
It’s just day three, and she’s starting to drive me crazy. Heck, she makes me feel something other than cold efficiency, and that’s dangerous territory.
It’s been only thirty minutes since we arrived at the party, yet my phone keeps vibrating with text messages. Sighing, I pull it out. I shouldn’t be distracted by my phone when I have my hands full with Elena.
The sender stills me immediately. It’s Enzo. He’s never sent a text himself before. It’s only four words: My office, 9 p.m.
I glance at my wristwatch and lift my eyes to Elena, who’s laughing with a glass of champagne in hand. Unfortunately, the Don needs us out of here. I don't care about ruining her night.
“Come on,” I grunt into her ear. “The Don needs me back in his office.”
She turns to me with a mischievous smile, dropping her glass into a tray held by one of the waiters. I just know she’s going to piss me off. “You and the Don can kiss my ass.”
Not in the mood for any more bullshit, I lower myself, scoop her up by the thighs, and hoist her over my shoulder. She thrashes, punching my back, but I pay no attention to her—and the few onlookers—as I move toward the exit, only dropping her when we reach the car.
She wrenches herself from my grasp with a scowl, but doesn’t object as I hold the door to the limo open for her.
Surprisingly, the ride back is silent as she taps away on her phone, smiling. A quick glance at the screen and I see she’s texting Bella. Her twin sister. The one married to Dominic Moretti, the Don we used to do business with… until Mother got sick and I suddenly had to leave New York.
***
Enzo’s office smells like espresso and leather, an all-too-familiar scent that brings memories of my father to mind. He sits behind his desk, fingers steepled, eyes sharp. If the devil walked the earth, he’d do it with Enzo’s composure.
“You did well on the Harlem run,” he says, not looking up from the file in his hand.
“C’è stata una resistenza minima, Capo (There was minimal resistance, Boss),” I reply. “They didn’t expect us that early.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “I Rossi non si aspettano mai (The Rossis are never expected).”
That mission was supposed to be reconnaissance, but it turned into disruption. All the warehouses were burnt, and all their assets were seized. One of their lieutenants would never walk straight again. That’s if he ever ends up walking.
Enzo finally meets my gaze. “How’s Elena holding up?”
“She’s still alive,” I say, averting my eyes. I may have years of hatred against the man, but I’ve been taught to respect a mafia don no matter what.
He studies me for a long moment. “She makes it difficult?”
“For a civilian, yes.”
“Per te (For you)?”
I hesitate, knowing that he’s not just looking at me but scrutinizing every single word, every action, and every mannerism. He’d get his answers from my body language faster than he’d get it from my mouth.
I can’t let it slip that I’d fucked her only a couple of days ago.
“So come gestirla (I know how to handle her).”
His expression softens, but not by much. “She’s very important to me, to this family, and everything we’re building. Dean left behind a fractured empire, and with it, both of his daughters. I lost the chance to protect my own daughter years ago. I won’t lose this one, too.
“…So I want you on the team tracking the people after her.”
My pulse kicks up. First, I have to run around Manhattan with her, and now I’d also be on the team searching for her attackers? Fuck! My jaw clenches tightly.
“Sì, Capo.”
This leaves me almost no time to pursue my revenge plans.
“And Adrian?”
“Yes, Capo.”
“…Protect her with your life.”
I nod. “Understood.”
As I leave his office, the weight of the assignment dawns on me. Elena Rossi has become more of a problem than an asset. It’d be best to take care of whoever wants her dead before she becomes an expensive distraction I can’t afford to indulge in.
Meanwhile, I have only a few minutes until someone suspects I’m up to no good.
I have to meet with one of my father’s most loyal men, who was away in Sicily during the massacre.
He’s been my shadow, walking in places time hasn’t permitted me to walk in, collecting both information and ammunition needed for Operation Rossi. He’s been my ‘Source’.
If I don’t see him tonight, I may have to forfeit phase one of my plans. The last thing I’m going to be is a failure on this mission.
It’s either I win, or I win. There’s no other option. Period.