Marco and I got lucky since Giovanni’s men had figured out our first money situation and found the ones who’d cleared our checking accounts. The two dipshits were connected to the Americans. I was sure Mason was involved. I knew they were still stealing from me, but they were getting creative now, less obvious. They were bribing my men, turning them against me.
I couldn’t afford it, and unfortunately, loyalty could not be bought.
“Mikhail and I will deal with the rat before it becomes more of a problem. We need to get this unloaded and stored before dawn,” I demanded.
Mikhail moved to join Matteo, while Monique and I approached the gangway of the ship.
“Start unloading,” I ordered. “We’ll take the crates to the warehouse. Matteo, I want you and your men to handle the transport. Quietly, and with no mistakes.”
Matteo nodded, signaling to his team. They began to move quickly, lifting the heavy crates and carrying them up to the deck. Outside, the trucks waited, engines idling softly in the dark.
For the next two and a half hours, we sorted through everything.
I was watching the last of the crates, making sure they were carefully loaded onto the trucks, when my phone rang. I picked it up, startled by the loud music crashing through the speaker.
“You might want to get here.”
“Can you handle whatever it is, Sean? I have a rat to deal with,” I replied, annoyance creeping into my tone.
“I would, but Rosalie and Sloane are both here, and things are getting out of hand.”
“Here? Where the hell are you?” I demanded, my irritation growing.
“Valentina threw Rosalie a bachelorette party in the city.”
Valentina always acted impulsively, constantly making my life harder than it needed to be.
“What’s the situation?”
“Some of the girls are pretty wasted, and there’s been a bit of a scuffle with a few men on the floor. They crashed into Rosalie. Nothing serious yet, but it’s drawing attention. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath before hanging up and directing my attention to Monique. “Keep your eyes and ears open. Coordinate with the drivers. I want those crates stored and hidden before dawn. I don’t need the Feds on my ass. Once this is done, we regroup at Diego’s.” Then, with an exhausted sigh, I turned to Mikhail, who was already deep in conversation with Matteo and Nikolai.
“Mikhail,” I called out, my voice cutting through theirs.
He gave me a questioning look.
“A word?”
Mikhail nodded and followed me to the car. While we walked, I filled him in on the situation. He seemed to share my irritation—or was that anger I felt? It seemed like a mix of both. I was irritated with Rosalie for doing something I’d specifically told her not to do, and I was angry with Valentina for ... well, being Valentina.
The club was a twenty-minute drive away, and every passing second tested my patience, just like my foot tested the gas pedal. My mind raced. I didn’t have the time to handle this—not with the stakes as high as they were. Valentina’s decision to throw Rosalie a bachelorette party in the heart of the city was reckless and something I didn’t have time for.
Once we’d finally arrived at the club, the bouncer stepped aside without a word. Inside, lights flashed everywhere, and the music pounded in my ears. I scanned the room quickly, spotting Sean near the bar trying to keep an eye on the girls. When he saw us, relief took over his look of worry.
“Max! Mikhail!” Even calling for us, his voice was barely audible above the music. “They’re upstairs,” he said, jerking his thumb toward a private section overlooking the main floor.
We pushed our way through, finally reaching a set of roped-off stairs. I spotted Rosalie almost immediately. She was walking down the long bar counter with a glass in her hand, while Sloane was busy trying to mediate an argument between two drunken men.
As the room started to notice our presence, conversations tapered off, and Rosalie glanced up at the door where I stood. Her perfectly arched eyebrow rose in silent disapproval. She lifted her cup: a martini, her drink of choice. Classy and bitter, much like her. She didn’t look happy to see me. Then again, she never really did.
For the first time in a while, I wasn’t happy to see her either. The damn woman couldn’t follow basic instructions. It was infuriating, really, how someone so sharp could be so deliberately obtuse.
I didn’t have anything to say to her. What could I say that hadn’t already been said a hundred times over?
Behind me, the sound of high heels clicking on the floor crept closer. Valentina sidled up next to me.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, turning to face her, my tone sharp with rising anger.
