Several years ago, when the city tried to shut down his gym, I offered to become Lucian’s partner. After renovating it and bringing it up to code, the city not only left him alone, but he also started to bring in more money. If the city thinks they’re going to fuck with this place, they have another thing coming.
After showering, I check my phone and see a few missed texts from Dominick—nothing dire—and one from Lorenzo.
I stick my earbud in and click play.
Russo: I need your guy to run a check on Henry Thomas. Go as deep as you can go. His family has a business here in Harbor Point. The fucker married my sister.
My thoughts go to Daniella. When we were younger, Lorenzo and I played on the same football team. I started calling him Russo since it was plastered across his back, and it just kind of stuck. So, naturally, Daniella’s nickname became Little Russo as a joke because when I would hang out at their house, she’d follow him aroundeverywhere. But he didn’t care because despite the twelve-year age difference, Daniella is the most important person in Lorenzo’s world.
I haven’t called her by her nickname in years, mostly because she was shipped off to boarding school and then college and I never saw her.
Not until her parents’ funeral, where the little girl I’d last seen was no longer little. She was in fact a grown fucking woman with a beautiful heart-shaped face, bright and expressive green eyes, silky brown hair, and curves for fucking days. And not the fake curves. I’m talking the real deal. The kind you can grab in bed and hold on to. I’d bet my life she could take a good pounding.
And that last thought was why I used the nickname Little Russo when I asked her how she was doing—to remind myself that she was my best friend’s little sister and off-limits.
Her being married shouldn’t affect me in any way, but for some reason, it does. It’s not like I was going to marry the girl, but she’s always seemed so out of reach. Like she’s above the rest of us mere mortals.
I’ve listened to Lorenzo talk about her our entire life. Straight A’s, works hard, president of her sorority. She’s dated a few guys over the years, but none of them lasted because, according to Lorenzo, they weren’t good enough for her—his words, not hers.
So, to hear that she’s gotten married since I saw her at their parents’ funeral is hard to believe, but kind of a relief. When Lorenzo told me she was planning to move home to learn the family business, my first thought was what it would be like to bend her over the desk and fuck her brains out, and that wouldn’t be good for my friendship or business relationship with Lorenzo. But since she’s married, she’s off-limits.
Me: On it.
After forwarding the text to Eddy, our IT guy, I head down to the docks to check on things. Recently, we’ve had a few issues withshipments, but ever since my sister, Brielle, killed Anthony—when he came after Dominick’s son, wanting revenge on Andrey fortakingthe Rothschild heir when he forced my sister to have an abortion several years ago—they’ve stopped, which tells us that it was him causing the issues, despite the fact that he didn’t have the money or resources. And the final words he spoke before he took his last breath were that we had no idea what we were in for and that we hadn’t won. Whatever the fuck that meant.
Afterward, I check on my guys who are handling shit in South Harbor Point, and thankfully, everything is quiet. Protection payments are being made, nobody is fucking with the businesses, and the waterfront expansion project is still on track.
Once I’m home, I call my contact, who works for the city, regarding the bullshit citations Lucian’s Gym received, then order myself dinner.
With my condo being so quiet, I can’t help but think about how much things have changed so quickly.
One minute, Brielle was in Russia, mourning the loss of her boyfriend, who had been killed by Andrey, and her unborn baby, who might’ve been her boyfriend’s or Anthony’s; our mom was traveling the world to help her get past Andrey’s death and find herself once again; and Dominick and I were working our asses off to expand Antonov Enterprises and do damage control, thanks to the shit show Andrey had left us.
And the next minute, Dominick found out he had a three-year-old son named Damien and was falling in love with Damien’s mom, Peyton. My brother had gone from a perpetual bachelor to a family man in the blink of an eye, complete with a new wife, son, and twins on the way.
Wanting to give my brother and his family some privacy and wanting a bit of my own, I insisted on moving into one of the condos we owned.
For the most part, I don’t regret getting my own place when wemade the decision to sell our family home, but sometimes, I miss the chaos.
My nephew running through the house with cookies in his hands. My sister talking shit. My brother fawning over his wife. I’d imagine it’s only gotten worse since she gave birth to their twins.
I consider calling Lorenzo, but he’s probably settled in for the night with his fiancée, who I can’t stand. I might not be able to prove it, but I know she’s up to something, and once I figure out what it is, it’s game on with that bitch.
I click through the shows on Netflix while I eat, unable to pick anything to watch, and when I can’t take the silence anymore, I go to bed. It’s only ten fucking p.m. What the hell has my life become?
Maybe I’ll go visit my brother in the morning. Remind myself why I wanted my own place.
Eddy:On March 14, Henry Thomas married Daniella Russo, which is fucking strange since, the last time I checked, dead men can’t get married.
Using the text-to-speech feature, I replay the text, stunned at what he just implied.
Me: Spell it out for me, man. This is Russo’s little sister.
Eddy: He stole someone’s identity. I don’t know who she married, but it wasn’t Henry Thomas. He died several years ago from cancer.
Fuck. This isn’t good.
I consider texting Lorenzo to tell him, but this isn’t something you text.
