Carlyle
Staring through narrowed eyes at the screen, I tightened my grip on the back of the tech’s chair and scowled.
“What thefuckis this?” Mine was a stupid question. This video was a warning and an artfully crafted warning at that. The leather chair creaked faintly as my knuckles ached, and the tech guy played the video back from the beginning. “Where’d this come from, Jerry?”
Jerry was, as I suspected, taking care of his elderly mom— how stereotypical— and I turned to his replacement and forced my fingernails out of the leather. This guy was just as good, but I liked Jerry, I had more experience with Jerry, and he simply shrugged stupidly.
“Can’t track it down. I can search the actual footage itself, but it’s probably proofed against anything distinct or recognizable.” True, there wasn’t even a person in the video, just a cinder block wall, and I started to pace as my mind whirled viciously. “From what I was able to understand from Jerry before he went to Washington, I’d guess your best bet would be to ask the maids. They seem to know everything.”
“The only person who knew about it was Illya.” Waving my hand dismissively, I raked my fingers through my hair roughly as my thoughts dug ruts into my brain. “Not a single other person knew about it. Play it again.”
“Mr. Syndicate. I know what you’re going to do on Friday. A little word of advice . . . don’t.”That was all this shitty, five-second long video said, nothing more— no flicker of light, just electric snow.
“Can you figure out the original voice, at least?” The guy sat back, stroking his goatee as he hung his arm over the back of the chair, and I resumed my pacing. “That could mean anything. Word has already spread about that crusty old bitch’s proposal. I wouldn’t put it past him to lie about my reaction. This is absurd!”
“You mean you’renotgonna marry her? That’s what literally everyone is saying.” Guffawing in disgust, I shook my head, and he gave a little ‘huh’ as if it was surprising. “Well, I did also hear she’s a raging bitch with a golden spoon shoved up her ass.”
“The gossip mill here is worse than an office building of bored, middle-aged receptionists.” Rubbing my temple as bitterness dribbled from my mouth, I leaned on the wall to blow out a stabilizing breath. “So, everyone thinks I’m going to propose to her and get the Italians on my side. That’s not really cause enough to send me a threat directly.”
“If it was me, I’d marry her, kill the old man, and take over.”
“Like fuck, I’m going to put myself through that for something I was already planning to do anyway.” My snap only earned me another shrug, and agitation tightened my chest now that I was standing still. Tapping my foot as my mind buzzed behind my eyes, I shuttered my lids and scrunched up my face with a groan. “Let me know if anything else comes through. I have to talk to my father.”
Leaving the security room, I scoffed loudly as I made my way out into the lobby. Most of my employees lived off-site, and I propped my elbow on the secretary’s desk to hold my cheek on my fist. Watching them all scurry around, trying to leave and beat traffic, my eyes narrowed into slits.
Who the absolute fuck thought they could get away with threateningme- me!
“This wasn’t the kind of excitement I wanted.” My grumbling was lost under two dozen feet, and I straightened to heave a massive breath. Heading to the elevator, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and surprise furrowed my brows as the notification light blinked enticingly.
Valerie: That’s a super vague answer, but ok. Keep your mysteries.
“What am I supposed to say, huh?” My cheek twitched as I stepped into the metal box, and I pressed my back against the wall to slump. Valerie started texted me faster than I’d expected, which was a pleasant surprise, and I closed my eyes to let her distract me from my current problem. I’d seen many a beautiful woman, but there was something about her that made me want to peel back those thin shirts and unzip that skirt.
Flopping my head down, I circled my thumbs over the screen of my phone as I thought up a reply.
Carlyle: What else am I supposed to say? I own a business. There’s not much else to say. I just manage everyone.
Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I waited for the doors to open again, and Theo stood across the threshold. Before he could scowl nastily at me, I gestured to follow, and my brief, digital exchange faded to the background of my mind for the moment.
“I have a job for you.” Crossing the bridge to push open my office door, I sat on my desk and rubbed my face as stress tingled my fingers and palms. “Go to New York City and tell Fabuccino that I accept his offer, and to expect it on Friday. He’ll know what I mean.”
“Why not get one of your liaisons to do that?”How much should I tell Theo?Frowning under furrowed brows as the question circled in my head, I watched him roll his eyes with a scoff. “I don’t give a fuck why just tell me anyway.”
“Someone sent me a threat to not do whatever I’m going to do on Friday.” Theo and I were not friends, no matter how much I enjoyed picking on him and how much he enjoyed being an asshole to me. His brows furrowed gravely, and I cupped my chin as I slumped a little over my desk. “I want you to go because I want you associated with agreeing, so when I snatch and bag her, it’d be easier to make it look like she just ran away. It’s going around that I’ll propose to her and get the Italians in my corner, which I don’t need her to do that. That crusty, old bastard is more delusional than senile at this point.”
“No one knows about your plan to kill her, but Illya, though, I thought. That was the whole point of having me bag her after Illya drugged her.” My cheek twitched at that, and I nodded as Theo rocked back on his heels to bluster a breath. “Were you able to get anything from the video? Assuming these guys have the balls to threaten you, it’s probably not traceable.”
“Jerry’s working on it.” I frowned under the thick crease between my brows, training my gaze on a carpet fiber as I thought on it a little more. “You know, this might not be a bad thing. If everyone expects me to marry this bitch, and she ‘runs away’ . . . ”
“What did the guy call you in the threat?” The question threw me for a loop even as I answered, and Theo cocked his head to show off his shiny scar ripping down the side of his face. Truly, I was glad Mateo didsomethingthat benefited me, even though he was still frumping and grumbling around his apartment. I didn’t have a moment to get distracted, though, when Theo opened his mouth. “Why’d he call you that?”
“It’s fucking obvious, Theo— because I run the show here.” He didn’t flinch at my snap, and frustration boiled my lungs as I inhaled sharply through my nose.
“You run the showhere. How do you know that isn’t a threat directed at your father?” That caught my attention, and I arched my brows quizzically as Theo grunted to himself like an ape. “He’s here, and he knows everything, right? Nothing goes on without his eye on it, supposedly. What if the threats directed at him? Which means he’s got something in motion that you don’t know about, Carlyle. I think you two need to get on the same page before you start doing damage control.”
“Alright. Let’s go have a chat with Dear Old Dad, then.” Standing on my feet, I left my office with Theo in tow, and the possibilities suddenly seemed too many. I’d been too pissed off to consider that the threat wasn’t aimed at me, and I raked my hand viciously through my hair.
My father had his hands full with Mateo’s sulking ass, and bitterness clung to my ribs like sticky, hot tar. If the old man could feel anything for anyone, it was Mateo . . . to a certain point. That little shit was the youngest, and although far from infallible, he always got off light.
Scratching my cheek, I frowned against my palm and wished my phone would buzz . . . but it didn’t.
