There’s a pause followed by the chink of ice in a glass.
“Let me guess, you saw something at home you didn’t like and snapped the old one or threw it at your wall?” Does he have eyes on me? Surely not. I sweep the place daily in case the FBI has someone on the inside. Dad’s paranoia infected me from a young age, and there are very few people I trust.
My inner circle is, and will remain, small by necessity.
“How did you know?” I ask curiously, shoving the ruined phone in my desk drawer for the time being.
“Because you go through at least two phones a month.” My friend sighs. “I’m in the area, so I’ll meet you at your apartment in thirty minutes.”
He hangs up. I lean back in my chair, thinking for a moment. Why has Luka turned up at the mansion? He rarely shows his face when he knows I’m around. We don’t exactly get along. I sign off on his credit card bills and leave him alone; it’s a strategy that works for both of us.
If he had shown any interest in the business, I would have given him a job, but he seems happier doing his own thing. I feel guilty he doesn’t get involved in our lives more, but our father has made it clear Luka isn’t welcome at family events or his house.
Kane arrives with my new phone. He hands it over with a scowl.
“Please try to avoid destroying this one so fast. It takes time to set them up so they’re secure.”
“Are you angling for a pay rise?” I snipe.
“No, but not working 24/7 would be good.”
I ignore his bitching. We both know he doesn’t mean it. Like me, the fucker has no life. Yes, he has a few women he sees from time to time, but there is nobody special. Our lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to relationships.
Which is ironic given I have a fucking wife to deal with.
“How’s married life treating you?” Kane asks as he helps himself to a glass of my very expensive tequila.
“Fine.” I scroll through my new phone, logging into the security cams at home again. This time, I see only Luka. My shoulders relax, although by rights I shouldn’t give a damn if myasshole brother feels like being nice to the woman who wants to slit my throat.
She has no one else to talk to. The staff is under strict instructions to be polite and nothing more. I don’t want her to turn any of them against me.
“Really? Has the hellcat not tried to murder you yet?” He sinks into my favorite chair, ignoring my glare.
“I’ve not been home since the night she spat in my face.” If it had been anyone else spitting in my face, I’d have fucking gutted them. She’s damn lucky I don’t hurt women. Even if they deserve it sometimes.
Kane bursts out laughing. “She what? Fuck me, I’d have paid good money to see that. I hope you saved a copy of the video in the cloud.”
“Fuck off.”
He snorts and drains his glass. “That woman’s going to keep you on your toes, my friend. Give it a few months and you’ll wish your dear old pa had picked a sweet young virgin from Sicily to pop out a few babies.”
“Sadly for me, Dad fell for Vivian’s bullshit that Chiara was a shy, submissive girl who would make a great mafia wife.” We both snort at that.
The moment I realized she’d knocked the poor maid out and stolen both her uniform and security ID, I knew I was in trouble.
“That woman is about as far from submissive as it’s possible to get.”
“She’ll settle once she’s pregnant with my child,” I say. Not that I actually believe my bullshit. Chiara has made it quite clear she isn’t interested in producing the next Di Rossi heir.
Short of forcing her or threatening those she cares about, I’m all out of ideas. Unlike my father, I don’t believe in abusing the women in my life. Physically or otherwise.
“Good luck with that,” comes Kane’s succinct response. “You should have cut your losses a year ago.”
He’s right, of course, but Dad refuses to write off the money he’s paid Vivian Farucci. He could have killed her and retrieved the money via less conventional ways, but the bitch announced her engagement to Tim Remington the day before the wedding.
How she snagged him is a mystery. He usually prefers young women in their twenties who put up and shut up. While Vivian is still a very attractive woman, she’s pushing forty now and not his usual type at all. But perhaps they’re in love, I muse, before swallowing a laugh.
But that’s not important, so I push all thoughts of Vivian Farucci aside and focus on how I’m going to tame her stubborn minx of a stepdaughter.
