Stefano looked around again and still felt zip. Something that was becoming more and more common when he came here lately. Alone, so no one knew he still “obsessed,” as his shrink would call it. Gone was the rage and bitterness that had consumed him when he and Furio used to hang out here and deliberate how best to fuck up Gabriel for what he’d done. It was actually right here, in what was left of this room, where they’d found Adrianna Perilli’s remains. Sexy, alluring Adrianna. Her mischievous dark eyes and seductive smile floated through his mind. He would have married her had Gabriel not done his part in ruining things. His brother hadn’t only taken a young woman’s life that night; he’d taken the opportunity for Stefano to break free from Albert Moretti’s contempt and make a place for himself within the Perilli family.
As the memories came, so did the rancid emotions.
He remembered it as if it were yesterday. Sitting in his mother’s kitchen, his stomach growling at the sight of the fresh manicotti sitting on the stove going to waste.
Feeling too uncomfortable in his own house to help himself.
“What’s wrong, Pop?” he’d asked the clearly agitated boss, making sure the insecurity he always felt in the old man’s presence couldn’t be heard in his voice. “Something going on that I should know about?”
“Not yet,” the old man had answered.
Not yet. Stefano had ignored the hurt that socked him in the chest. No doubt Gabriel knew what was up. The usual rush of humiliation rolled in at the thought. Everyone knew Albert Moretti favored his second born over his first. They just didn’t know why.
Stefano certainly did.
Everyone also knew the cold prick was about to hand down the reins. Reins that should rightfully be placed into the eldest son’s hands.
And they were.
Because Gabriel was the boss’s oldest and youngest son. His only son.
Stefano was just his wife’s bastard.
The old man’s words verbatim. Spoken when Stefano was only eight. And repeated too many times to count since.
When he’d asked his mother about his father’s statement, she’d never answered, never explained why. And she sure as hell had never taken up for him against his father’s tirades. Just told him to respect the man of the house and try to stay out of his way. He’d been more than happy to oblige. But forcing himself to be invisible had left scars.
So Gabe would get it all. But didn’t want it. Couldn’t handle it. How could the old man think Gabriel was capable of commanding the respect of their men when he went soft every time he had to deal with the dark side of their business? Stefano had lost count of how many times he’d walked in on the idiot brooding and stalling over sending a message to the enemy. That shit was unacceptable. Once someone crossed the family they should be put down. No questions. No second chances.
His gut had tightened when he imagined the look on the old man’s face when Stefano made his announcement. When news of his engagement to Adrianna came out, everything would change. He had wondered if the prick would even pretend regret when Stefano walked away. He’d doubted it.
Stefano looked out a hole in the wall of the factory that was covered by a tarp, the corner of which kept flapping in the slight garbage-tainted breeze. That announcement had never been made, because Albert Moretti had kicked Stefano out on his ass that night.
It’s time you left my house, Stefano. You’re old enough to fend for yourself. You’ve never been a part of this family, and I think it’s time we stopped pretending that you are. You will no longer have any contact with my son. My wife you can see at her discretion.
Remembering the boss’s harsh words still made Stefano’s skin crawl with humiliation. Still made him feel like nothing more than a useless piece of shit.
That unyielding sonofabitch had then told him how Stefano had made things difficult for Gabriel by existing at all—by tainting Gabriel’s life with a hatred the younger boy had never understood. Albert Moretti had said Stefano had hurt his boy, and his boy’s mother, in the process.
He couldn’t find fault in the accusation. He had made Gabriel’s life difficult. Had the kid deserved it back then? No. But Gabe had had enough support to get through it without too many tears, Stefano thought derisively, remembering when he’d asked his father, “Where is Gabe now?”
His father had looked down on him with disdain. “He is no longer Gabe to you. As of tonight, you will call him Don.”
The title of boss to the Moretti crime family. Now Gabriel’s. But that news hadn’t even been the worst of it. Stefano hadn’t thought his father’s eyes could get any colder—that he could strike a lower blow. But he had.
My son is more a man than you will ever be, Stefano. He is more concerned for his family and those around him than himself. He took care of business tonight, which destroyed your chance at easily succeeding outside of this family. Yes. I knew of your plans to move on. But the business that was the backbone of my enemy’s organization is now gone, and so is your fresh start. Ruined by the delivery Gabriel made only minutes ago.
And that’s when Stefano had known. If the textiles factory Adrianna’s father ran was no longer functional, could no longer be used as a front to move their product, gone, too, was any prospect of success.
The daughter you were going to use to tie yourself to Giovanni Perilli? Gone. Gabriel took care of her as well. She was in the building when it went.
Stefano toed the flapping tarp, his heart ice-cold. After Albert Moretti had delivered his death blow, Stefano had stumbled from the room. Though, instead of leaving the house as he’d been ordered to do, he’d gone to his mother’s bedroom to demand some answers. For her own reasons, she’d always refused his requests for information. Until that night.
He’d been cut from the Moretti family. She must have known it was coming and there was no longer a need for secrecy.
He’d learned the truth about his creation and felt nothing but pain for his own lost childhood. He hadn’t even been able to feel sympathy for Maria Moretti when she’d admitted to having been raped by some lowlife who’d died a few years later while serving a life sentence for murder. Apparently, Albert Moretti had stepped in when Maria had found out she was pregnant and they’d gotten married, the big hero saying he’d raise her unborn child as his own. That had lasted until Gabriel—his own flesh and blood—had been born. Henceforth, his father had referred to Stefano as “your son” when speaking to his wife about their eldest. Never “our son,” as he’d forever referred to Gabriel.
The hard-hearted patriarch had paid for that, and more, later that night when Stefano and Furio had returned to end the sonofabitch before any formal announcement could be made on Gabriel’s behalf. They’d entered the Moretti family home, Stefano heading down to the basement in search of Gabriel. With no luck, he’d joined Furio in the brownstone’s master bedroom, and the old man had already been taken out. And, unfortunately, Furio had gotten carried away and added Maria Moretti’s corpse to the pile. So mortally wounded by the truths the woman had revealed only hours earlier, Stefano had walked out without feeling much more sympathy than he’d have felt for a stranger who’d received the same treatment.
The following day, it had come to light that the Perilli family had retaliated by taking out Don Moretti and his wife, and, with no one the wiser, Stefano—being next in line to the throne—had stepped in to take over the family biz. After that final meeting in that reeking warehouse, Gabriel had made the transition all the easier by trying to go legit and leaving Stefano to run the organization the way he saw fit.
Now, five years later, nothing was forgotten. Nothing forgiven.
Turning away from the filthy mess marking up his spotless Ferragamos, Stefano made his way toward the door, bitterness churning like acid in his gut. He really should just waste the fucker. But why should he let Gabriel off so easy? No way. He was going to make him suffer. By making him live out the rest of his days knowing that his and his father�
�s actions were to blame for the hell Eva Jacobs was about to endure at Stefano’s hand.
The ride to the Crown Jewel took mere minutes, and in no time they were approaching a door marked PRIVATE in the underground car park. Two men stood off to the side, smoking. After nods of greeting were exchanged, Quan asked, “Everything quiet, boys?”
“S’all good,” replied the one who reminded Eva of a bulldog.
Quan inclined his head and motioned her and Gabriel into a mirrored elevator before he and Alek joined them.
“Tell me about your friend’s husband,” Gabriel asked as the doors slid closed. He hit the button marked thirty-five—top floor, naturally—before leaning against the wall, eyes down, hands buried in the front pockets of his pants, his expression tight.
“He’s not a very nice person?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. I got that part.”
Eva looked from Gabriel, to Quan, and then at Alek. All three of them had their heads down and were sort of slumped into themselves. Nervous as she was, she almost giggled at the picture they made. She cleared her throat and looked up to try to get over her amusement. That’s when she spotted two blinking red lights, the little flashes attached to cameras mounted conspicuously in opposite corners of the elevator.
“Eyes everywhere,” Gabriel murmured as though he knew what she was looking at.
“And you’re camera shy?” she asked sardonically. “In your own place?”
The bell dinged and the doors swished open. “Something like that.” He beckoned her out into the long, softly lit corridor.
She got back on topic. “You asked about Kevin. He’s nothing but an immature jerk who treats Nika like garbage.” Her heels clicked on the gray-and-white marble tile. No short nappy carpets for this hallway.
A hallway she just now realized she’d be traveling tomorrow morning, but in the opposite direction, a different person. The deed done.
And the two men strolling alongside her and Gabriel knew that as well. Not the part about her being a virgin, but they had to be aware she and Gabriel were about to have sex. Oh, God.
Her cheeks flamed.
“Uh, Kevin and I have never gotten along.” Sorry, Nika, she said silently, needing something to talk about and using her friend’s personal life as a topic. “Nika won’t say what’s going on, but I’m pretty sure she told me tonight that she wants to leave him. Said something about following me to New York.” Goddammit, she was nervous now. And chatty. Probably annoying. “Oh, guess what? I got that job. I start tomorrow.”
Gabriel smiled down at her and she almost tripped. “Congratulations, sweetheart. That’s great news. When did you find out?”
She took a second and enjoyed that “sweetheart.” “This morning.”
Alek and Quan stopped in front of two suites, one on each side of the hallway. “It was nice to meet you, Eva. Good night,” Quan said with a friendly smile.
“A pleasure, Eva,” Alek added.
“Good night,” she murmured as they opened their doors.
“Quan? Hold on.” Gabriel’s voice sliced through the air. She looked inquiringly at him when he held his hand out to her.
“Keys. Quan will have your car picked up and brought to the hotel’s parking garage.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay,” she hurried out, shaking her head, which had to have looked like a big red tomato. “It’s fine where it is. He doesn’t have to go to the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all, Eva,” Quan offered.
She waffled for a second, not wanting to make an issue out of something neither man seemed to think anything of. But she wasn’t used to having people around to do things for her.
“Well, if you’re sure.”
Gabriel made an impatient motion with his fingers that had her raising her eyebrows at him.
His brow rose back at her, an arrogant expression on his face making her want to laugh as she brought up her purse to dig out her keys.
In protest of his bullying attitude, she bypassed his open palm and gave them directly to Quan. “Thank you, Quan. I appreciate it.”
He nodded and headed back the way they’d come.
She and Gabriel were alone.
She glanced up at him to see him smiling down at her. She’d amused him, obviously.
They were going to have sex.
Would he be amused when he found out just how inexperienced she was in the bedroom?
Her nerves returned. Along with anticipation.
With his hand on the small of her back, she was guided to the end of the corridor, where Gabriel swiped a key into the oversize door of the corner suite. He waved her forward.
She entered a spacious foyer—more marble and low-placed lighting—and stopped at the opening to the main room. It was easily big enough to fit her entire house, every inch expensive elegance and luxury. But impersonal. A huge flat screen was suspended above an elaborate gas fireplace, the one and only concession to any sort of downtime Gabriel might indulge in. Farther to the right, separated by a pair of what looked to be sliding glass doors, was a lovely solid wood dining table surrounded by eight chairs covered in the same soft leather as the living room furniture.
What was she doing here with this man who was so far out of her league?
No one could accuse her of aiming low; that was for certain. Losing her virginity?
Sure. Show me a bazillionaire and I’ll give it up.
Telling herself to shut up, she bit her lip, torn between intimidation and sympathy. Sure, the suite was opulent, but there was no life here. Nowhere, not on any surface was there anything of a personal nature. No books or magazines. No mementos or memories. No framed photographs of family or friends. Not even an iPad or a Men’s Health magazine or . . . anything. Just pricey sculptures and bowls and vases filled with fresh flowers. The place was empty, even when furnished so beautifully.
Gabriel may have been living in a hotel room, but that didn’t mean the room had to be void of every personal item.
She heard the door close behind her, the click of the bolt registering like a bomb in the quiet. Had he been watching her study his home? Would he see the sympathy she felt reflected back at him if she were to look at him right now?
Her gaze settled on what looked to be an exact replica of Constantin Brancusi’s Bird in Space. She swallowed nervously. It had better be a replica, because she remembered reading somewhere that the authentic sculpture had sold for more than twenty-seven million dollars at a Christie’s auction well over five years ago.
“That’s fake, right?” she blurted like a redneck, pointing at it carefully, as if the breeze from her finger might topple it.
He chuckled. “No.”
That deep, smooth voice, even when uttering only one word, rippled hotly down her exposed spine. She exhaled sharply and stared at the gold sculpture, contemplating what to do next.
If this was going to happen, should she wait for him to make the first move? Or was he waiting for her? Did he expect some conversation first, or would he rather get right down and dirty? Maybe she should just leave. Dammit. She was totally out of her element here. Didn’t have a clue.
She turned slowly to see Gabriel propped against the door, arms casually folded across that wide chest she so badly wanted to explore. His chunky platinum watch glinted in the light.
God, he was a beautiful specimen, and he made her ache. Everywhere. Her breasts tightened, her nipples pressed against the fabric of her dress, her stomach fluttered. Strange what arousal could do to a body, she thought with wonder. “How long have you lived here?” she asked with a dry throat. The bland question most likely crossed some invisible we’re-here-to-have-sex-not-get-to-know-one-another line, but it was either that or talk about the weather.
“Almost four years. I moved in after the renos were completed.”
Her eyes widened before she could stop them. “Four years? But . . . it looks like any other hotel room. I mean . . .” Sh
e faltered and bit her lip. “Not any room, because obviously this is more impressive than the average hotel.” She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and took a breath. And went with honesty because that usually worked for her. “Your wealth is freaking me out. I’ve never been with anyone so . . .” She waved her hand to encompass the room behind her. “I don’t know what to call it without sounding ignorant. Your home looks like something from a magazine.” Impersonal. And pretentious. And grandiose, she finished silently.
Gabriel shrugged, looking stiff all of a sudden. “The men you’ve been with have been blue-collar?”
She cringed. “No. God, no. Not that there’s anything wrong with blue-collar. Or no collar for that matter. That wasn’t what I meant. I was referring to my friends at Columbia. Even the rich ones weren’t in your bracket.”
He nodded, and then he didn’t look as though he was thinking about it anymore as his gaze traveled the length of her body, making her skin tingle. “As cliché as it sounds, it is only money, Eva. My office, where I spend most of my time, is more personal than this place. Anything with any real meaning is at my house in New York. I didn’t see the sense in carting it across the country when I knew I’d eventually return there.”
“Last night you said you grew up in Queens. Do you have family there?” There was something about his mouth that drew her, and she watched, liking the way his lips moved as he talked.
“My parents are both gone. One brother still there.”
Because she was so engrossed in him, she noticed how his expression and tone changed. There was a mix of sorrow and bitterness in his voice.
“Do you see your brother often?”
His features hardened. “No.”
Uncomfortable when he reverted to this glacial demeanor, she blurted, “I’ll bet your other women love all this, huh?” She hadn’t meant to put voice to the thought.
He gave a wry expression. “I’ve never brought another woman up here, sweetheart.”
She doubted that, but after the tension she’d caused asking about his brother, she decided not to challenge him.
A Love of Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 1) Page 12