She’s going to have me.
And I’m definitely going to have her when I get back into the city.
Passing the threshold of the door, I step inside a small office that is impressively basic, typical, and alluding to money lost.
Of money not being made.
I’ve done my research on the Giordano mob, and it’s failing.
It’s falling.
It’s losing power, prestige, and it has a hell of a lot of problems with other groups trying to come in and seize its influence.
Honestly, I’m unimpressed at Bobby’s lack of research. If he was going to pull this kind of shit, do it with someone who isn’t just as desperate as shit for money.
Franco Giordano sits behind a rickety old wooden desk, puffing on a cigar like a train that’s bringing shit to town.
He analyzes me with zero interest, leaning back with a black suit and tie, appearing tired and worn out with life itself.
“Bobby,” he drones. “I thought we talked about this.”
Clueless and lack of fucks given for that comment, I impart, “Meirna Stetson isn’t your payday for whatever funds my brother owes you. Whatever plans you had to steal my million dollars, I suggest you backtrack that real quick.”
His bushy brows clip together as he leans forward in his brown chair. “Excuse me?”
“My money,” I say slowly, already feeling my temper rise. “I find it missing, I’ll take this whole fuckin’ block.”
He blinks several times, clearly puzzled, before his little mafia boss shit kicks in and he glowers at me. “The fuck do you think you are, Harding? Comin’ into my office and posing threats?—”
“Bronte Vasiliou,” I cut in because, obviously, I’m going to need to explain some things. “Bobby is my twin brother.”
“Twin brother,” he clips out. “Bullshit.”
“Look it up and use your insiders to figure it out,” I encourage, like I’m speaking to a child who needs a bit of encouragement. “Bobby isn’t my problem, and he’s no longer my family. Meirna Stetson ismywife…and I’m not about to play games with a failing crime organization. Whatever it is you need to do with Bobby, it is not my problem. However, I’m going to feel a certain type of way if you steal from me.”
“Steal from you?” he balks with a twisted expression. “What kind of game are you trying to play here?”
“It’ll be Monopoly except I don’t play with fake money. I’ll buy every block you roll down and make this mob look like a squad of cheerleaders if I have to deal with you again.” He continues to stare at me like I’m a fucking Looney Tune. “I find you near my wife, I’ll come back and kill you myself.”
I turn on my heels, but that’s when his bodyguard steps in my way like we’re going to do this Giordano’s way and not mine.
“Listen here, you little prick,” I hear him growl out at my spine. “I don’t know who or what the fuck you think you’re doing, but no motherfucker is waltzing into my piece of business issuing threats.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” I spin to face him again. “I’m not Bobby. Clearly, you’ve seen that already. We may look the same, but he’s highly impressionable, and I’m not above fucking your future up the ass. I’ve worked hard to be where I am. And I’m not going to let my brother and some washed-up mob boss takefrom me. If you think that’s a threat, then it’s one. We speak again…your eyes are going to be rolling in the back of your head.”
He pins me with another glare that does nothing to spark a shred of anxiety, and I’m able to push past his muscle and leave the small Italian diner.
Little does he know, I have a realtor on standby to put offers in to secure his downfall. I hear his name again, he’s dead, and his legacy will become a Chuck E Cheese.”
Chapter 27
Meirna
“You don’t look married. Are you married?”
“I dunno, sweetheart. You should have a glow about you.”
“She does. However, she looks different.”
