He smacks down his glass on the coffee table harder than seems necessary, and I scowl at him. “What did you think was gonna happen? I laugh it off, make him promise not to do it again?”
“Yes,” he snaps. “As yourlawyer, that isexactlywhat I want you to tell me is going to happen. Anything you tell me about your plans for future crimes isnotcovered by attorney-client privilege, Fontana, and IknowI’ve explained this to you before. Besides which, you don’t know it’s a man,” he finishes, his voice dropping in volume, “and frankly, watching one person die in front of me is enough. I sure don’t want to hear about your psycho-killer plans forthisunfortunate.”
I go to the bar and pour myself another drink, biting my tongue the whole way. “Next time,” I say softly, and only once I’ve had another swallow of bourbon, “if you’re so mad about it, I’ll just let the guy kill you instead.”
“You do that,” he says, and stands with a determined air. “Anyway. I don’t know who sent that, and neither do you. But there’s no proof it’s about—about what happened, either. You do a lot of bad shit, based on the number of times I’ve been called in to talk you out of charges. Like today, for example—”
“Today was bullshit, and you know it.” He’s pissing me off, but in a weird way that scratches some itch I have. Bianchi and I have been messing around much longer than I usually mess around with a man. Even now, I’d like to take him to bed and enjoy him again, make him use that mouth for things other than bitching at me.
“Suspected drug dealing is not bullshit,” he counters. “You were just lucky they had nothing concrete.”
“They had nothing at all, because I don’t fuck with drugs—none of the Morellis do, and you damn well knowthat, too.” I stalk closer to him, and he puts his glass down on the coffee table, then squares up to me.
“Nowthat’sbullshit,” he says, and he gives me that asshole smile. “Maybe your territory’s been cut into by all the other gangs in this city, but you can’t expect me to believe the Morellis aren’t trying to claw it back.”
I study his face, wondering if he really doesn’t know. “We don’t involve ourselves in that business,” I insist, and take a step closer. “Not under Tino, and not under Luca.” He’s close enough that I can feel his breath flutter against my chin.
“Just because Don Morelli’s husband—”
“It’s not because of Finch,” I tell him softly. Fuck it. I reach up to hold his chin in my fingers, watching his mouth as it parts. “The Giulianos and the Clemenzas like to bring down their neighborhoods with that shit. The rest of us don’t. And if Luca thought any one of us was running drugs, he’d take care of us on the spot.Bang.” He flinches at the last word, but I hold his face steady. “You know why?”
“Why?” he whispers.
“Because drugs are a weakness for enemies to exploit.”
He lets out a little huff. “Isn’t it the fundamental rule of drug dealers—don’t get high on your own supply?”
“How many Cees and Gees you see get twitchy this weekend?”
His mouth twists into a side-on smile and I want to kiss him. “Fair point. So no drugs for the Morellis, huh?”
“Not around the Boss. Noteverif you’re smart. Is that driver of yours gonna wait around all afternoon for you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because we need to figure out a plan. And I do my best planning in bed.”
Look, it’s not my best line ever, but it works. Carlo’s pupils go wide, his tongue flicks out across his lower lip, and he gives a shrug. “It’s his job to wait on me. So let him wait.”
“Sure?” I’m not talking about the driver, and he knows it.
“Sure.”
He makes the first move, pulling off that stupid silk tie and throwing it to the side. I yank his jacket down roughly, catching his arms behind his back before pulling his mouth up to mine. He’s on his toes, struggling to keep his balance, so I wrap him up in my arms and devour him like I’ve been dying to for the last two weeks.
Every minute I wasn’t worrying about the dead guy in the ocean off the Hamptons, I was thinking about Carlo Bianchi. It’s been a tough two weeks at work, let me tell you. Luca even told me to pick up my game yesterday, and today I got rounded up in a drug raid like a sucker.
Ineedto get Bianchi out of my system.
Chapter Sixteen
Nick
Ilet Carlo go, but only so he can get naked, and he obliges faster than I could ever get those clothes off him. I pull off my own, down to my underwear, and when he’s down to skin, he throws himself back at me. I lift him bodily, turn, and press him against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. My room is upstairs, but I’m so greedy for him I can’t move except to grind harder against him. His legs are around my waist, his hot cock pressed against my belly with only thin cotton between us.
He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get moving any time soon, so I peel him off the wall and start staggering up the damn stairs with him. He grabs my neck a little harder, wraps his legs a little tighter. He’s not exactly a lightweight, but he moans his approval at my show of strength, and that makes it easier. I’m a big guy. And I like throwing this arrogant son of a bitch around. All the way up he sucks at my neck, kisses me all over my face, whispers at me about how hot he is for me, what he wants me to do to him, how much he’s been dying to do this the last two weeks.
At least we’re on the same page there.
