by Soraya Naomi
“Adriano and I are overseeing the drug deal this Saturday,” Luca informs them.
“That still leaves us with a one point seven million dollar gap for now. Or at least one million, assuming you’ll get the seven hundred thousand on Saturday,” Jeffrey says while closing his notebook. “And that’s a problem at the moment because we’re being audited.”
I wait for him to continue, because our books are reviewed often.
“By a newly appointed accountant that is not on my list of Syndicate associates,” he clarifies.
“That’s odd.” Usually we’re audited by associates who work for us and are paid for their discretion. “So what does this mean?”
“It means that the one point seven million needs to be in the company account before she comes in next week.”
“It’s a she?” I ask.
“Yes. I researched her. She’s hot,” he mentions with a grin. “But we need at least the one million to avoid raising suspicion.”
“We need to cough it up...” I let the words trail off and address Luca, “That’s a lot. I’ll need to access dozens of accounts to even come up with half.”
“First, I’ll have to move money around. Then I’ll deposit it to Salvatore’s account for payment,” Luca ponders out loud.
“We both give Salvatore half?” I suggest, already itemizing which accounts I’ll need to access.
Luca nods his approval.
“Jeffrey, you need to make a ghost invoice stating that the payment came in late. Take care of the financial details with Salvatore so it all seems perfectly legit,” I order him.
“Of course. Salvatore can call me as soon as he has your money.”
Luca adds, “While you wait for Salvatore’s call, investigate why the new accountant was assigned to us. Find out who assigned her to this company.”
“Janey has already been instructed to find that out,” he answers.
“Any other issues?” I ask.
“No. That was it.”
“We’re going to transfer the money today,” Luca says and gestures for me to head out with him.
“Where are we going?” I follow into step beside him.
“The warehouse. We’re going to send Fat Sal a message,” he replies in a sinister tone.
***
I throw open the door to Christopher’s cell in the warehouse where he’s now on a cot, chained to an old, defective radiator. We didn’t leave him hanging on a bar for a week. But when we were notified Capo John had vanished after the latest drug delivery to Fat Sal’s team, we did keep Sal’s first soldier a prisoner. Investigation led to nothing, no lead to John’s whereabouts. He isn’t in police custody, hasn’t been admitted to any hospitals, and his phone goes directly to voicemail. He’s either dead or has been taken captive by Sal. And by now, Sal has figured out that we extracted the tracking device from Cam because the device has been left in one spot: James’s desk drawer.
However, there hasn’t been a ransom call, which is usually the case when one of us is taken. This isn’t the first time this has happened. We have numerous enemies. In this world, you actually only have enemies. If you do have friends, you’re either very lucky or incredibly naive. My only friend is Luca. The only one I trust with the lives of my family is Luca – no one else.
“Christopher, what’s up?” I smile as he glares at me with long strands of his hair plastered around his filthy face.
“Fuck you!”
“So touchy, man,” I tease.
Loosening his cuffs, I haul him up by his collar and force him to lie face-down on the concrete floor beside the cot. His body is fragile and limp. His arms and legs barely protest.
One arm’s cuffed, and the other’s restrained beside the length of his body by Luca, who’s on his haunches.
After grabbing my knife out of my pocket, I flick it open and tear his t-shirt in half, baring his back. I slide the tip of the blade down his spine, leaving an angry red trail.
“Wait! St...stop,” he stutters, jerking against us. “What are you doing?”
“Time for talking is over,” Luca answers and nods to me.
I press my knife into his shoulder blade, causing him to howl in misery while crimson spills down his side. I carve letters: W then an E. His skin tears open, and blood streams out while I use his back as my canvas. My knife is razor sharp, and I clench my jaw in concentration.
His screams jump around in the desolate room while I finish carving two words into his back, cramming my knees into his lower back to keep him somewhat still.
I inspect my handiwork proudly, presenting it to Luca with a wave of my hand.
“Perfect, Rembrandt,” he mocks, eyeing my words, WE KNOW, then fisting Christopher’s hair, stretching his neck as he pulls his head back in one swift tug.
Saliva dribbles down his chin as he splutters his objection.
“Tell Sal we know that he has John,” Luca says through clamped teeth. “That he has our money and our drugs. That he abused Camilla. That he implanted a device in her.”
I lean down to Christopher and add, “Tell him he’s made an enemy of the Chicago Syndicate and that when I finally deal with him – when he’s worthy of me and my men’s time, I’ll destroy him and anyone he cares about. I’ll fucking gut his wife and kids in front of him, and I’ll make him eat their insides. He’s pushed us too far.”
Luca cocks his head, displaying an entertained expression. He always laughs at my talent for the dramatic, and I motion for him to knock Christopher unconscious because his pathetic wails are aggravating me.
He wraps his fingers around his gun that’s stashed in the back of his pants and hits Christopher’s temple twice with its butt. Instantly, he’s out.
“We’re taking care of this personally, not the lower ranking soldiers. It’s war now,” Luca comments as we rise.
“Then we need another car. I’m guessing you want to drop him off at the back entrance of Club 7?”
“Do we have any cars here now?” he asks.
“We have one with tinted windows. We’ll take that one.”
“I’ll park my car in the warehouse and pick it up later. Let’s load this fucker into the back seat.” Luca points to Christopher’s shoulders for me to grab him as he picks up his legs.
***
Luca speeds the car down the street toward Club 7 in the Loop with me in the back seat. The tires screech against the curb, coming to a stop right in front of the colossal doors at the back entrance of the club.
Still out cold, Christopher’s stashed behind the passenger seat.
I take the edges of the black ski mask and pull it over my head.
“The entrance is clearing,” Luca speaks hurriedly.
I look up to see it sliding open, and I throw open the door of the vehicle, kicking Christopher out so his body rolls onto the sidewalk, bumping to a stop at the step in front of the entrance.
“Go!” I yank the door shut before the person behind the entrance notices us, and Luca hits the gas.
The car swerves on the road, causing me to skate over the sleek leather seat.
“Rallenta!” Slow down!
I snatch the mask off and grip the handle attached to the roof of the car as Luca races out of the Loop.
We’ve just instigated the official commencement of the war between Chicago’s drug syndicate and Chicago’s sex cartel.
***
Friday night, I’m in my tuxedo, complete with black tie and a new haircut. They’ve cut it short on the sides, and the top is still long and messy because I’m used to raking my hands through my hair.
I’m required to attend one of Alessa’s elaborate parties tonight. Rosalia is turning twenty-one, and it’s being celebrated at the Plaza. Alessa and James always demand Luca and me to be present, but it’s also a business opportunity for Security Simplicity to get introduced to new investors and a beneficial media event. We need to find new legitimate companies to purchase our security software, especially now with the financ
ial difficulties plaguing SS.
The driver Alessa arranges for me picks me up at my loft at seven p.m. A beautiful Spanish model is accompanying me. We’ve been together at these events before, and I did fuck her once. Or twice? I don’t remember. She’s lovely but an airhead. And her name is Milla – which is short for Camilla in Italian, but it’s actually her full name. Everything always comes back to Cam.
It’s been five days since I last saw Cam in the kitchen at headquarters, but I’ve known her exact itinerary the entire time. When I haven’t seen her for too long, I get restless beyond reason. Although her face and her voice are embedded in my memory, locked in a part only she has access to, my body can’t handle knowing where she is and not being able to lay eyes on her or speak to her.
Karma’s a bitch. When I had Cam, I did everything to push her away, but she still wanted me. Now I want her, and she wants me, but it’s forbidden, making it even more intolerable to resist. The forbidden is what a man covets most – especially when he’s already had a taste.
***
Holding open the door for my date, I motion for her to exit the limo as I light a cigarette. She smiles seductively and offers her hand. Reluctantly, I accept it, and we walk the red carpet.
Camera flashes blind us, and I can hear a journalist screaming, “Here’s our favorite entrepreneurial bad boy, Adriano Montesi! The only one allowed to smoke on the red carpet. Who’s your date, Adriano?”
My cig hangs off my lips as I pull my date to my side and whisper, “Introduce yourself.” And I wink at the reporter as the model starts rattling away.
Scanning the people behind us, I search for familiar faces and lock eyes with Cam’s brown ones as she steps from a limousine. Suddenly, noise around me is muted. My breath is robbed from me. My jaw hangs open, and the cig almost falls off my lip before I take it between my forefinger and thumb. Looking away isn’t an option when she’s an absolute knockout in a backless white silk gala dress that’s tied around her neck and drapes behind her on the ground – she’s close enough that I can see she’s comfortable in her own skin. Her scars on her lower back are hidden. She’s unbelievably tall, so she must be wearing fuckable stiletto heels, and I swear my dick jumps to attention instantly. She’s a Greek goddess with so much bare skin showing, her arms, back, and neck exposed. A sleek auburn bob that’s tucked tightly behind her ears gives her a sophisticated look. Absent of layers of makeup like most of the women here are wearing, she’s the most dazzling person at this event.
Of course, she’s with a date too. But why the fuck is she with Wade? Former Detective Wade, Fallon’s friend, who’s single. Why is Luca consenting to this? And why the hell didn’t he tell me? I’m going to strangle Luca.
Cam arcs a perfectly plucked brow as I inhale a draw from the cigarette and throw the butt to the side. Wade’s hand slithers to Cam’s lower back, and I’m tempted to aim my gun at this dude. She breaks from our stare and turns to him as he says something into her ear. And I’m pulled by the hand to move along the line.
Inside, we’re escorted to the grand dining room. First, there’s an intimate dinner and then a party at nine. Intimate dinner among Italians is never intimate. The room is filled with dozens of people seated at rectangular tables covered in white cloths. Black drapings and centerpieces finish the decorations. The dress code is black and white to match the venue.
“Adriano, we’re seated near the front,” Milla says, and I already see James and the family.
James, Alessa, and Rosalia sit next to each other at the front. Across from Milla and me are Luca and Fallon.
I tilt my head to the side at Luca as I scoot Milla’s chair back and mouth, “Wade?”
Luca throws a scowl at Fallon. Evidently, they had words about this.
Cam and Wade also join us and sit next to Fallon.
Much to my chagrin, Milla comments radiantly while motioning at Wade and Cam, “That couple looks so beautiful.”
I just stare at her blankly and then turn my head away in agitation.
Dinner is a strained glaring contest between Luca, Fallon, Cam, and me.
Wade and Cam are talking much too closely, and I want to fucking punch the smile off his baby face while Milla keeps babbling on and on about her boring modeling gigs.
When Fallon whispers something to Cam and both their gazes land on me, I see Cam’s eyes filling with tears. Then she gives me an appalled look and excuses herself with Wade trailing after her, to my utmost annoyance.
I watch her movement with irritation, and Luca warns me with a shake of his head to stop being so obvious.
I can’t go after her, and as the minutes pass, she seems to have been gone forever.
What the hell is Cam doing? Why isn’t she back?
CHAPTER 21
Camilla
The venue is spectacular, but enjoying dinner isn’t possible with Adriano across from Wade and me with a gorgeous model sitting next to him.
I’ve poked and prodded Fallon to find out about Adriano’s daily life. Fallon, in turn, hasn’t seen much of him either, but she does drill Luca, who’s tight-lipped as always.
Wade and I met at Fallon’s penthouse a couple of days ago – he’s a close friend of hers. He’s a former detective and good-looking with his blondish brown hair and blue eyes. Luca and he don’t get along, but Luca accepts Wade for Fallon’s sake. He’s protective of Fallon like an older brother, and somewhere, I think Luca does trust him or else he wouldn’t condone the friendship.
After a talk with Wade, I learned he works as a private investigator now. This made him interesting to me – he might come in handy, so when I received a formal invitation to Rosalia’s birthday and saw that it was with a plus one, I invited him to accompany me, especially since attending alone supposedly isn’t done.
With much resistance from Luca, he agreed, and now I’m on the receiving end of Adriano’s foul mood.
The first thing I did when I got out of the limo earlier was search for Adriano, and the first person I saw was him, looking distinguished in his neatly pressed black tux and with his freshly cut hair.
When he looks at me, my nipples harden, and he always makes tingles flare to life in my lower stomach. I’ve been losing my determination to get him back with every rejection; however, the moment I see him, I want his hands exploring my skin.
I can overhear bits and pieces of Fallon and Luca’s heated murmuring, and I eavesdrop while pretending to listen to Wade.
“So where has he been? I can tell you’re hiding something from me,” Fallon states.
“I’m not. You don’t want to know.”
“Tell me, Luca,” Fallon insists.
“At headquarters, the club. Now let it go. I won’t discuss him with you now,” Luca warns in a low voice, and Fallon rears back then slightly toward me in her seat.
“Adriano’s been sleeping in the strip club this week,” she reveals with an empathetic expression.
I feel as if someone has slapped me across the face. While I’ve been pining for him, he’s found entertainment with other women?
We both glance at him, and a wrinkle crosses his forehead when he catches us.
“Do you know if he stayed with one of the girls?” I ask her.
She lifts her shoulders in denial as the corners of her mouth pull down.
Adriano’s model puts her arm around him as she says something, but his eyes are transfixed on me.
You want distance? Fine! Let’s see how long you’ll last, ass.
And I decide it’s time to rebel against him. I can’t let it go back to the way it was. Don’t I deserve better?
I hold Adriano’s dark stare and murmur to Wade, “Come with me.”
Everyone looks up as we stand, and I can feel Adriano’s eyes boring holes into my back.
“Is everything okay?” Wade asks, concerned.
“Just needed to get out of that suffocating room.”
He chuckles. “It’s a stiff affair.”
“Want
to have some fun?”
“What did you have in mind? Nothing illegal,” he warns, the old cop in him peeking through.
“No. Just messing with someone.”
“Hmmm...Possibly Adriano?”
I stop, and he collides against my back, both his hands on my shoulders. “Was it that obvious?”
“Unless you’re blind, yes,” he teases and urges me forward. “What are you going to do, Cam?”
“Make him a little jealous? After I annoy him.” I grab the chef’s arm as he passes me. “See the guy on the left at the front? He prefers nuts in his starters, main course, and dessert, please. He likes the bite.”
Wade rolls his eyes and laughs at me.
“Yes, ma’am,” the chef replies agreeably and starts shouting orders to his kitchen staff.
“Now”—I entwine our fingers and point one at the dining room—“flirt with me in there.”
Wade groans and brings me to a standstill. “I’m not up for this.”
“I’ll owe you.”
“You do realize you just said that to a P.I.?” he retorts with an arched brow.
“I’ll owe you,” I confirm. “Come on.”
He lets out another groan, yet relents. “Only because you amuse me, and maybe this will liven up this party.”
And for a man who wasn’t up for it, he’s a surprisingly good actor.
We return to our seats and gradually scoot closer together while we’re seemingly in an interesting conversation, but he’s just talking nonsense, and I’m trying to focus on Adriano from the corner of my eye. His lips are set in a hard, thin line.
Salads are being served, and Adriano’s absorbed with his food. “I’m starving.” He picks up his utensils and shifts greens and nuts around. “It’s filled with nuts,” he complains to no one in particular and waves over a waiter.
I’m concentrated on him until he catches it. Then I bite a piece of lettuce off my fork.
Adriano slouches back in his chair, sliding the plate away, and then the waiter comes up, and they have words.
“Never mind,” Adriano utters, “I’ll wait for the next course.”
Wade and I touch shoulders, and he mumbles, “Never mess with a man and his food.”