The Beast I Can’t Tame: Brooklyn Kings, Book 3

by L. K. Shaw

  She smiles that crooked smile of hers that, at one time, probably made her pretty. But time and hard living have taken their toll. I almost feel sorry for her. “What’s life without risk? Pretty boring if you ask me.”

  “I won’t save you,” I caution her. I can’t.

  “Now who’s the one being dramatic?” She rolls her eyes, not taking me seriously. I truly hope it doesn’t come down to me having to follow through with my threat.

  “Is that all you came here for?” I ask. “To show off this knowledge you’ve managed to gain?”

  The less time I spend in her presence, the better. For both of us.

  Beatrice leans forward and props her elbows on her knees. “Have you given any more thought to what we talked about last time?”

  “If you’re still under the delusion that I’m going to usurp Jacob’s position, then you might as well leave, because there’s nothing to discuss. I already told you I have no interest in ruling the syndicate. When are you going to believe me?”

  “But what about her?” she asks.

  “Francesca doesn’t care what position I hold, either.”

  “But—“

  “Stop.” I hold up my hand. “Just stop. It’s never going to happen. Ever. Now, I think it’s time for you to go.”

  I move to the door and open it keeping my gaze averted. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long for Beatrice to rise. She crosses the small space and pauses right in front of me, but I still can’t look at her. The scent of booze drifts off her breath.

  “You ran away when you were fifteen because you wanted to make something of yourself. I held you back, with the drugs and alcohol. I know that.” She sighs with resignation. “And I accept the fact that you no doubt hate me. But this is your chance to be somebody, Giovanni. The somebody you always wanted to be. All you have to do is reach out and take it.”

  Beatrice gently pats my chest before heading down the hallway and into the elevator. I finally let out the breath I’ve been holding and close the door. It takes a few more seconds before I can move again, her words ringing loudly in my ear.

  I pick up my phone and hit the speed dial.

  “Ricci,” Jacob answers.

  “Beatrice just left my place.”

  “Why was she there?”

  “You mean besides to irritate me? Let’s see,” I sigh. “She’s still on this mission of hers wanting me to take your place. Tried to persuade me by appealing to my need for validation, apparently. More importantly, she talked to me about things she should have no idea about.”

  Even without being in his presence, I can almost feel Jacob come fully alert, sitting upright in that black, throne-like office chair of his.

  “Explain,” he barks.

  “She knew about the date Francesca and I had the other night. When I left Empire after the meeting with your officer friend,” I tell him. “A meeting she also knew about. As well as the trouble you had with our two associates.”

  “What?” Jacob bellows.

  “She also shared with me about some charity event happening this weekend run by Francesca’s mother.”

  “Goddamn it. How is she getting this intel?”

  “I have no idea. But when I confronted her about who she was screwing to get it, she denied there was anyone.”

  Jacob blows out a gruff breath. “Do you believe her?”

  I think for a moment. She seemed too amused by my assumption. “Yeah, I think she’s actually telling the truth.”

  He curses again.

  “I think that unless she’s threatened with bodily harm, and maybe not even then, she’s not going to divulge her source. She’s having too much fucking with us.” I hate to admit that despite my threat to not save her, I’m not sure if I could allow harm to come to her. That’s how much her parting words messed with my head.

  “And what if it comes to that?” he asks, as though he can read my thoughts. “Where does your loyalty lie?”

  Beatrice cares only about herself. She’s shown me that my entire life. But she’s still my mother. Maybe at first, she tried to be better. Maybe this is her way of making up for everything. By wanting me to get the things she thinks I want. The crest inked into my chest almost heats like it’s sending me a reminder of what I swore allegiance to. Who I swore allegiance to. For a brief instance, I almost want to scrape the symbol off my skin. Obliterate it as though it never existed so I don’t have to choose. Because when it comes down to it, the choice is obvious.

  “My loyalty lies with the syndicate,” I finally say. “I understand you’ll do whatever you have to, to ensure that our secrets remain secret and that no one, no matter who they are, betrays them.”

  Jacob is silent for a moment. “If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t take pleasure in whatever I need to do if it comes down to it.”

  It doesn’t, but then again, everything about this situation is fucked up. There are consequences to actions. It’s something my mother may learn the hard way before long.

  Chapter 19

  Francesca

  * * *

  I’m at our normal meeting spot inside the park, with my camera this time, taking pictures of flowers while I wait for Gio. A shadow crosses in front of me, and I glance up. God, that smile of his makes me weak and makes my heart race. I could look at it every single day and never get tired of it. I snag his hand and pull him over to what I consider our bench.

  “How did your meeting with the Irish go?” I ask, softly, once we’re seated.

  Gio hesitates, his expression torn with indecision.

  “I’m not asking you to tell me specifically what you talked about. Just that you guys have a plan to help those women.”

  “Nothing concrete yet, but I promise, we really are doing our best,” he admits. “That’s all I can say.”

  I nod, not pushing any further. As hard as it is, I’m going to have to trust my family and Brenna’s to do what they can. It’s her grandfather that worries me the most. From what she’s said about him, I doubt he cares about the plight of innocent women.

  “How are things with you? Class still going well?”

  “It is.” I worry my bottom lip. “I sort of had a favor. It feels awkward to ask, though.”

  “Sounds intriguing.” Gio waggles his eyebrows, and I smack his arm.

  “Not like that,” I pause. “Well, maybe a little like that. One of our assignments is to start working on photographing a live subject. I was wondering if you’d be interested in being my model?”

  “Clothed or unclothed?” he jokes.

  “Clothed!” I exclaim loudly drawing the attention of several people walking by. I duck my head and lower my voice. “Clothed.”

  “What a shame,” Gio teases.

  I’m sure my cheeks flush even darker. “I’m not sure I’m ready for you to be naked. Not yet anyway,” I say with a little wink, trying to cover my nerves.

  He leans back against the wooden bench. “Let me know whenever you are ready. I’m happy to oblige.”

  I shift in my seat. Our little banter shouldn’t make me this aroused. “Anyway,” I redirect. “The studio is going to be open for us during certain hours next week. There are different back drops and lighting we’re allowed to use. I think there are even some costumes.”

  Giovanni puts his hands up. “That’s where I draw the line. I’m either wearing my own clothes or I’m going naked.”

  I bite back a smirk and try the innocent look on him. “What? You mean you don’t want to dress up in the black feather boa I saw in one of the chests? I think you’d look interesting in the cowboy hat in there. Get you some chaps and a wooden stick horse and you’d be all set.”

  For a moment he pretends to be intrigued. “Are they ass-less chaps? Because I might reconsider my stance if they are.”

  “You’re determined to embarrass me, aren’t you?” I say, but not with anger.

  “I’ll admit to enjoying making you squirm a little, but I hope you know it’s only meant in fu
n,” Giovanni rushes to reassure me.

  “Maybe I need to figure out what will make you squirm. It’s only fair that if you’re going to make me blush, then I do the same,” I say.

  He tries not to laugh. “Feel free to give it your best shot.”

  “Does that mean you’ll do it? You’ll pose for me?”

  “Yes, of course I will. You tell me when and where I need to be.”

  I throw my arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Gio gently squeezes me back. His scent fills my nose, and I burrow it further into his neck, breathing more of him in. His muscles are a bit rigid like he’s fighting against himself to hold me tighter or let me escape.

  It’s him that pulls back, but he doesn’t release me completely. My arms are still looped around his neck. He pushes back the few strands of hair covering my cheek, his fingers lightly caressing my skin. I can’t help but lean into his touch.

  Giovanni lowers his lips to mine. The kiss is just as good as the first two we shared. I open to him, my tongue shyly gliding against his. His flavor is like a sharp burst of my favorite dessert. I could easily become addicted to it.

  He keeps the kiss soft and gentle. A whistle and cat call from nearby breaks us apart. It makes me want to kill whoever interrupted us, but I manage to harness the anger. We both sit back, but our thighs remain touching. He clears his throat.

  “It looks like my mom is taking a page out of your mom’s playbook,” Gio says.

  “Oh?”

  “She showed up at my apartment unannounced the other day. A fact that really irritated me, because she shouldn’t even know where I live.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Gio shakes his head. “I wish I were. Knocks on the door and strolls in like she owns the place.”

  “What did she want?” I ask.

  “She’s on a mission of me taking over the syndicate. Besides the drugs, it’s the only thing I’ve ever seen her so single-minded on. To make it worse, she also shared with me details of things going on in my life she shouldn’t know,” he emphasizes. “Even more weird, she knew things about you. Like the fact that your mom invited you to that charity thing.”

  “Whoa, that is weird. Did she tell you where she heard it?”

  Gio shakes his head. “No. Found it hilarious that she wasn’t going to tell me, in fact. Like this is a game.”

  This isn’t good. Outsiders shouldn’t have insider information regarding things the organization are involved in. I’m pretty sure the luncheon is an exclusive, and expensive, invite-only event. So unless someone is a donor or club member, or knows someone who is, they wouldn’t know about it.

  “Have you told Jacob?” I ask.

  “I called him right after she left.”

  I feel bad for what feels like tattling, but family business is family business. That is something drilled into every family member’s head from the time we’re little. Don’t share information with outsiders. It’s nearly sacrilegious to do so. That means, though, that someone had to have. Otherwise, how would Gio’s mom know?

  “She’s going to get herself into a situation I won’t be able to get her out of.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and his gaze turns distant. “I’m not sure I want to, either.”

  My heart breaks for the guilt in his voice. Regardless of what she’s done over the years, she’s still his mother.

  “Will you tell me about her?” I ask.

  Gio slowly turns his head to stare at me with resignation. I almost regret asking. It’s clearly a painful topic. Finally, he sits back, keeping his gaze turned forward overlooking the park. “Most of what I remember is being hungry all the time. There was never any food, because she spent all her money on drugs and alcohol. There was this teacher who bought me lunch a few times a week, because my mom would forget to put money on my card.”

  He pauses a moment, his profile rigid. “I wore clothes that were dirty and too small because there wasn’t any money for new ones. I couldn’t invite friends over. And none of their parents wanted me coming over, because they didn’t want people to know their children were associating with Beatrice Saccone’s kid.”

  My heart aches even more for the lonely little boy. There’s so much bitterness in Gio’s tone. It’s sharp and tangy.

  “Everyone knew about the men that my mother associated with. Our neighborhood was small. People talked. I had to stop telling her about parent teacher conferences, because the one time she managed to stumble into one, she propositioned my teacher, as well as a couple of the fathers. It was non-stop until I was fifteen.”

  “What happened then?” I ask.

  He’s quiet again, so I wait until he’s ready to share.

  “I woke up to find one of the men my mother invited to the apartment standing over my bed. He was,”—Gio take a deep breath and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing—“stroking himself. I screamed at him to get the fuck out of my room. He left, but I spent the rest of the night wide awake. The next day, I ran away.”

  Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. His pain is palpable. I grab his hand, threading my fingers through his, and holding it tight. I scoot close and rest my head on his shoulder, pulling our joined hands into my lap. Gio’s whole body is tense. After several beats of silence, his muscles slowly loosen.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say.

  He lifts the opposite shoulder than the one I’m resting on, his entire frame shifting with the movement.

  “It’s in the past, and I’ve come a long way from that kid. There are times I want to forgive her. Shouldn’t kids forgive their mothers? I understand her addiction is a disease. But then I think about that night, and all the others before it, and I can’t find it in myself to forgive her. I just can’t,” Gio says firmly.

  I don’t blame him. In fact, I could hate his mother for what she did. “Thank you for trusting me with your story. This may seem hateful, something I try not to be, but whatever choices she made, they are on her. She’ll have to face the consequences of her actions. I won’t feel bad, and neither should you.”

  Gio seems to relax even further under my cheek, as though relieved that I’m not judging him for not caring more about what happens to his mother. I appreciate his willingness to be open and vulnerable. To share his secrets. He’s stronger than me. I want to keep mine locked up tight. The only person who knows everything about my time in captivity is Theresa. The thought of spilling the ugly truth to Giovanni makes me sick to my stomach. So I’ll hold on to them a little longer.

  Chapter 20

  Giovanni

  * * *

  I’ve gotten used to the ride up the elevator at Empire. My stomach doesn’t lurch anymore as it comes to a stop on the twentieth floor. The view still amazes me, though. Same with the pure luxury that surrounds me. To think that I can be part of all this wealth after growing up practically on the streets blows my mind.

  I make my way toward the conference room midway down the hall and let myself in. Raucous noise from the large group of men gathered inside hits me and then comes to almost an abrupt halt. Eyes swing in my direction before gazes drift and the chatter begins again.

  As usual, Jacob stands near his massive desk with Pierce not far from his side. The two men are talking to Brenna’s father and surprisingly, her grandfather, who doesn’t look thrilled to be here. In fact, his sneer of disdain seems to say that he’d rather be anywhere but here.

  “Gio,” Jacob greets me with a steely gaze.

  Not yet comfortable mingling with the rest of the men, I head over to the foursome.

  “Da, this is Giovanni,” Cormac introduces me. “He’s the one who brought up the idea of taking over the waterfront properties in Greenpoint.”

  I’m surprised Brenna’s father is offering the credit to me. Not with how his father feels about Jacob. Donnelly studies me with a shrewd stare.

  “As much as it pains me to take advice from an Italian, I’ll admit that it’s a sound strategy,”
he says with obvious reluctance. The glare he tosses Jacob’s way would be amusing coming from any other man, but the stories about Donnelly’s ruthlessness are enough to stifle it.

  “Thank you, sir,” is all I say.

  “Okay, let’s get down to business,” Jacob calls out.

  Voices dim and everyone turns to focus on those of us in the front. I’m sure most, if not, all the men’s attention is on their boss, but my skin tingles with awareness that I’m also probably under scrutiny. I keep my head up and spine straight.

  “Giovanni came up with a solid plan to cripple the Polish and potentially rescue the women they’re trafficking. The Irish will be moving forward from here with it,” he says. “The only snag we’ve come across is that Wójcik is not only buying women, but selling them to the Armenians.”

  “What will we be doing while the Irish are warring with the Polish?” Dino, one of Jacob’s captains asks.

  “We take out the Armenians, if need be,” Pierce growls.

  “There is no neutrality agreement in place with them,” Jacob notes. “If it comes down to it, we’ll raid their arms storage units. Destroy every opportunity with them. We will make sure they get the message that we won’t tolerate them doing business any longer with the Polish.”

  War with the Armenians means fewer resources to use against the Russians. Even while they scramble to recover their losses from our most recent attacks, they’re still not an enemy we should underestimate.

  “We need to find out where the women are held, and rescue them,” Cormac says.

  Nods of agreement come from some of the men and whispers of assent begin to rumble through the crowd as they all get on board with the plan.

  “We haven’t had any luck so far, though. People aren’t talking,” Jack adds with obvious frustration.

  I have an idea, but Pierce is going to flip his shit.

  “I think we need to talk to Mila’s sister,” I pipe up, turning my gaze to the man in question.